Gareth and Phil
The flight to Cairo was stressful; at least the tedious checking in at Heathrow and clearing immigration in Cairo were tedious, extremely so in fact. I’d read about the more and more stringent checking-in procedures at airports, particularly Arab-country bound ones, but they’d never really impacted on me until today. We were stopped and questioned at least five times in England before boarding the aircraft, and four more times before leaving Cairo airport. Thankfully the flight itself was OK apart from one amusing incident.
Gareth and I were travelling ‘Club Class’, thanks to a generous employer and had plenty of space and good food to eat. Although we were both tired, we were too excited to sleep properly and cat-napped in between reading and eating. At one point, Gareth nudged me in the ribs and nodded down to the obvious erection tenting out his jeans. I grinned at him and whispered in his ear, “It’s the vibrations do that. It always happens to me when I’m driving!” This remark, something we used to joke about in our early days, made him giggle. It wasn’t long before he excused himself and headed off to the toilet. Ten minutes later he was back, slightly flushed – hopefully I was the only one who knew why.
I grinned at him as he sat down again, but said nothing except, “Better now?”
Completely unfazed with my comment, he leaned over and cupping my ear in his cupped hands
whispered, “I’ve just joined the mile-high club. Or at least the half-mile one anyway, you weren’t there! Does it count if I was thinking of you?”
I stifled a laugh, took a quick look round to check if anyone was watching and gave his now soft
erection a firm rub through his jeans. “Now it counts.”
Gareth folded the table down in front of me and placed an opened magazine on it. He then moved as close to me as the seats permitted and slid his hand between my thighs. We pretended to be reading the magazine together just in case anyone should look at us. Within seconds he had my zip down and my flaccid dick out. I kept my eyes peeled for any approaching trouble as he started to jerk me off under the table. It wasn’t long before I shuddered in my seat, bit my lip trying to stifle a moan and shot my load into Gareth’s hand. Giving me an evil leer, he slowly brought his hand back and very slowly cleaned himself up with a paper napkin. I fastened my zip and stuck my tongue out at him slightly, grinning.
“That’s two half-milers,” he said smiling.
“Go for broke, why don’t you?” I whispered. “I’m sure he’d help you out anytime.” I nodded in the direction of a steward who we both noticed had been eyeing Gareth up ever since we left London. He wasn’t unattractive, but not my type and I knew Gareth wasn’t interested in other men in the slightest. But he surprised me by getting out of his seat and approaching the steward. They had a brief conversation, of which I never heard a single word, but I saw the steward colour up and with trembling fingers adjust his tie. A few seconds later, Gareth returned to his seat, grinning broadly and a visibly disturbed steward disappear into the galley.
“What the hell did you say to him?” I asked.
“Nothing much,” he giggled. “I just asked him how high we were flying.”
“And?” I replied, now feeling slightly nervous having half an idea what was coming next.
“He said 33 000 feet, and I asked him how many miles that was. He said about six. That’s all.”
I raised my eyebrows questioningly; there had to be more.
“Well. There was just one more thing I asked him.” Gareth giggled and even had the grace to blush slightly. “I asked him what I had to do to qualify for the Mile High Club friends had told me about, and did I get a certificate for it.”
No wonder the steward had taken off: I could just imagine Gareth’s angelic innocence as he asked the questions, supposedly not having a clue what he was talking about.
The remainder of the flight was thankfully uneventful, in fact we dozed for most of it having not had a great deal of sleep the night before. We were rudely awoken however when we landed. The heat of Egypt could be felt even before the ‘planes doors were opened, and when they were the instantaneous rise in air temperature hit us like a blast furnace. Even the ride to the terminal in the service bus was incredibly hot – the thing wasn’t even air-conditioned, and a hundred or so sweating bodies trapped in a closed bus was hell, even for the ten-minute journey to the terminal buildings.
It took over an hour to clear the airport: more baggage checks, more visa and passport checks, and even a body search. To add insult to injury we even had to pay ten dollars airport tax for the privilege! The other shock we had was that all the soldiers and policemen knocking about the place were wandering around in pairs, more often than not holding hands, with their rifles conveniently slung nonchalantly over opposing shoulders. Assuming that they weren’t all gay, I guessed rightly that it was accepted practice in this part of the world. Gareth saw them at the same time as I did, gave me a nervous smile and edged closer to me. I decided not to hold his hand.
It was Gareth who spotted our driver at the barrier, a swarthy unshaven man holding up a crudely hand-written piece of paper with my name on it. Wisely, we were to stay in a hotel for a couple of days until we’d re-orientated ourselves and got acclimatised.
Cairo has a fair number of international-standard hotels, most of which are new and it was to one of those that Gareth and I were taken. Surprisingly, it was way across the other side of the city, about an hours fast drive away. The driver explained in broken English that apart from it being one of the best hotels Cairo has to offer, it was chosen mainly because it was convenient to the office I was to work in.
The Mena House-Oberoi Hotel is magnificent. From the outside it looks like an enormous Indian
palace, set under the pyramids at Giza. The wide sweep of the drive from the gated entrance wound round an enormous ornamental fountain before curving past the entrance. There was a flight of marble steps leading into a beautiful glittering foyer, milling with liveried staff and expensively dressed guests. Gareth and I felt definitely out of place as we checked in and couldn’t wait to get to our room and change. Fortunately the formalities didn’t take long and within five minutes we were being led to our room.
The room was just as ornate as the rest of the hotel, once again Indian-style. It was also air-conditioned which was a relief. The only slight problem was that there was only one bed, albeit an enormous one, but only the one nevertheless. I couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it, and the bell-boy didn’t seem to notice the problem so I let it go. Gareth and I were simply pleased to be able to cool down and gather our thoughts.
The first thing we wanted was a shower and a change of clothes, and after exploring the room for a minute or two, unpacked our suitcases and searched out some more comfortable attire before heading for the bathroom. In keeping with the rest of the building, it was enormous and well-appointed, gleaming with imitation gold fittings and ornate décor. Gareth and I stripped off and hit the shower together, wallowing under the jets of lovely hot water. I don’t know who planned the facilities, but I must admit he did a good job – there was enough room in the shower for an entire family, never mind just the two of us, and we took full advantage of it. Once refreshed we lay on the bed and dozed for a while, catching up on some much-needed rest.
The time difference of two hours didn’t affect us too much, and it was two hungry men who appeared in the restaurant at what would have been more or less our dinner time in the UK anyway. There were of course several choices of meals: we elected to eat Indian, postponing the delicacies of the Egyptian food until we were sure what it was we were eating! It was, as you would expect, a delicious meal, served in admirable surroundings with an attentive staff. It was one of the best meals we’d ever had we decided, Egypt was definitely looking OK. It was even better when we took a stroll round the area after dinner and explored the pyramids, just a short hundred yard walk up the hill behind the hotel.
Even in the moonlight, they were spectacular and must be even more so in daylight. We were
dissuaded from venturing too far into the area though by a bevy of armed policemen who appeared from nowhere, and although they never actually said anything, made it quite clear that we weren’t too welcome at that time of day. The temperature hadn’t seemed to change in the slightest, Gareth and I noticed – it was a characteristic of the local climate we were to find out later that the day-time and night-time temperatures didn’t change very much. Feeling a little tacky again, we returned to the hotel and the coolness of our room.
Once more we stripped off and lay on the bed together, this time watching the in-house film as we relaxed. It was late by the time it finished, but neither of us were especially tired as we’d been cat-napping all day. Whilst we were waiting for the start of the next film, Gareth moved across the bed and cuddled up alongside me. I put an arm round him and kissed him on the forehead.
“What do you think of it so far?” I said.
“S’OK. Bloody hot though isn’t it.” he replied.
“Yeah, but I suppose we’ll get used to it eventually.”
“Hope so,” he answered.
I turned over to face him and looked him up and down, stroking his hair as I did so.
He smiled at me gently and said, “What you doin’?”
“Nothing. Just looking at you.”
He smiled again, slightly embarrassed. He knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. Even after all the time we’d been together I still couldn’t believe that he and I – well, you know. I still found him incredibly attractive and never tired of just looking at him, especially when he was naked.
“Piss off, you’re just jealous of my body!”
I leaned over him, grasped his hitherto soft prick and balls in my hand and kissed him deeply. He
responded by giving me his tongue and wrapping his arms round me, forcing us closer together.
“Mmmmmm,” he mumbled as his cock started to harden.
Once more the video was forgotten as we concentrated on each other: we’d spent what seemed a
lifetime travelling today, and although we’d been together all the time, there had been very little time by ourselves. I sighed as I made myself more comfortable and nestled as close as I could to him.
“That’s much better,” I said as I kissed him again.
He returned the kiss and gently held my tool as he too sprawled out on the bed with me.
As we caressed and fondled each other I explained what I knew of our immediate future. Firstly I was being picked up sometime tomorrow to go into work and meet the other staff, and also to go and have a look at the flat they’d provided for us. I wasn’t at all sure where Gareth would fit in to these plans, I hoped that he would be able to spend the day with me, but that was very much down to the manager. Gareth said that he didn’t mind being left alone too much, as long as he knew I wasn’t too far away. In any case we had our mobile ‘phones.
“Do they work here?” Gareth asked.
I hadn’t thought of that: I just assumed they would. We paused for a while whilst we rang each other; fortunately they worked and we breathed a sigh of relief: that was one problem less.
“Enough of that!” Gareth grinned as he dropped the phone on the floor, “Kiss me!”
We resumed our comfortable positions and took up from where we left off. It wasn’t long before
Gareth took my cock in his mouth and started to give me a tender, loving BJ. When I tried to return the favour, he glanced up at me and shook his head: “Later,” he said hurriedly and went back to my cock. I could tell he was in a good mood as he settled down to enjoy himself. I reached down and grasped his erection in my hand, feeling its warm and silky softness. As he swirled his tongue lasciviously in and around my foreskin, I closed my eyes and let myself be exquisitely pleasured.
He was good at this, mainly because he enjoyed giving BJ’s as much as getting them and it wasn’t long before I was thrashing about the bed as he tickled the most sensitive area of my now throbbing cock. He had one hand massaging the base of my dick and the other lightly fingering my balls: the combination of his delicate hands and his wonderful tongue soon brought me to the precipice. Gareth sensed that I was about to blow when he sat up and put his legs either side of me. With the barest pause, he pressed my saliva and pre-cum lubricated tool against his waiting hole and pushed himself down.
“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” he exhaled. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth, he slowly sank down until he was sat on my groin, my dick buried deep inside him.
I started to fuck him. But he pressed down on my chest with his hands and whispered, “No, wait. Let’s wait a bit.”
He toyed with my nipples, tweaking and twisting them erotically until they were just as hard as our pricks. Once in a while he would clench his but cheeks together and lift up just the slightest bit, giving me the most incredible feeling ever. It got even better when he wriggled about a bit, pressing my dick against his prostate and producing an ecstatic moan from my lover. Reaching round I grasped his leaking cock in my fingers and very slowly started to wank him off. There was no objection this time and I concentrated on trying to give him as much pleasure as he was giving me. I swiped a bit of his pre-cum up with my fingers and licked it off. A second swipe I offered to him, which he took greedily, grinning at me all the while.
My whole body seemed to be on fire as he started to fuck me, lifting up and sliding down delightfully slowly at first, but as he got more and more excited, speeding up. Opening his eyes he locked his gaze on mine and we looked deep into each other’s eyes as he began to work himself up and down the full length of my shaft. As he got faster I worked his beautiful cock at the same time, feeling its pulsating shaft under my fingers but not taking my eyes away from his for a second.
He shook his head, throwing his hair out of his eyes and flicking beads of sweat off his forehead, then began to buck and thrust desperately. He’d managed to restrain himself so far but now he’d past the point of no return and was frantically clenching his butt cheeks against my cock, bouncing up and down on my groin, and somehow or other even managing to thrust his well-swollen dick in and out of my fist. His eyes were now closed and his face contorted in a mask of sheer sexual lust.
Three – four – five times he moaned out loud before he stiffened up and shot as big a load as I’d ever seen him do: with a force that would have done credit to a fire hose, he ejaculated bullets of cum which shot over my head somewhere. I’d no idea where they landed for by now I was in the throes of a massive cum myself, forcing my dick as hard and deep into him as I could, my love-tool ejecting my cum achingly powerfully into his guts.
With a last almost despairing moan and a guttural scream, he shot his last pellet of cum and collapsed. Immediately he began to shake and shiver once again, his eyes glazed and his brow dripping with perspiration. For nearly five minutes he shuddered and jerked in my arms as he worked himself through his fit. Lovingly I held on to him, stroking his back and face as he breathed raggedly, his now moist but soft dick pressing into my stomach.
He was OK I knew, but I couldn’t help but be concerned for him until he opened his eyes slightly, gave up the attempt to focus on me and smiled weakly instead.
“That was fucking good!” he managed to breath out, “Fucking marvellous!”
I was relieved to hear him speak and kissed him softly on the lips, giving him a comforting squeeze at the same time. He smiled at me again, kissed me in return and closed his eyes once more. Nestling into my side, head on my chest, he stuck a thumb into his mouth and with a last, satisfied smile dozed off. I lay for a few minutes, still caressing his adorable body, and thanking the gods for giving me such a cute, wonderful companion. I could easily have wept with happiness.
The following day went quite well all things considered. Gareth and I were collected by the manager and taken to the office which was on the ground floor of an office block on the main road between Cairo and the pyramids. Once I’d met the staff, which I discovered was about half and half British/Egyptian, the manager, Dave, took us to our flat.
It was enormous, and well furnished I was glad to note, even down to the HiFi system and television. Dave explained that the flat was rented fully furnished, which locally meant everything except the bedding, and there was even some of that just in case we hadn’t brought any, which of course we hadn’t. It was lunch-time by then, and Dave had a slight surprise for us. He told us that in Egypt most businesses closed down for the afternoon, from about two o’clock, and re-opened early evening until about eight or nine o’clock. My first thought was that I didn’t like that idea very much, my second being that I guess I have to get used to it. He went on to explain that he would look after things in the evenings if I would agree to ‘just be on site’ during the afternoons. I readily agreed to this, thanking him.
For lunch, we went to a local hotel, sort of. It was purely Egyptian, well off the tourist route. I think ‘informal’ would be the best way to describe it. Certainly cleanliness wasn’t a priority, but the food and drink proved to be good and cheap. Dave smiled as he said that we’d better get used to the local food as quickly as possible as we’d be eating a lot of it! I looked at him sideways as he told me that undoubtedly Gareth and I would undergo a period of “Gyppy Tummy” before we became used to the change in diet, but once we’d overcome the ‘problem’, we’d be alright. Gareth and I looked at each other, Gareth saying that the food couldn’t possibly be worse than my cooking, especially when we were camping!
After we’d eaten, Dave took us back to the flat and left us to sort ourselves out. His last words before departing were that he would collect us from the Mena House the following morning and bring us back here to unpack.
We explored our new home together. It was a roof-top flat with a big patio and bar-b-cue stand, three bedrooms, large living room/lounge, bathroom and kitchen. The place wasn’t air-conditioned, but Dave had pointed out that in many ways it was better not as we then became acclimatised to the local weather much better. His belief was that constantly going in and out of air-conditioned buildings into the heat of Cairo day after day made one ill, or at least susceptible to colds and so on. On reflection, I had to agree he was probably right.
Anyway, Gareth and I made ourselves a hot drink as we re-arranged the furniture slightly to suit
“What about the bedrooms?” Gareth asked looking at me blankly, not giving me a clue as to what he was thinking.
Unlike Dover, I reasoned, we were free now to do just as we wished in that respect. We were unlikely to have many visitors here who would question our sleeping arrangements, much less our relationship. I looked at him and asked him what he would like to do.
“Dunno really,” he said. “I don’t want to be by myself, at least not yet anyway, and I think it’ll be too hot sleeping together in one bed, won’t it?” There was just a hint of the old, nervous Gareth there as he said this, which I could fully understand.
“OK, then. How about putting two single beds in one room?” I suggested.
He grinned broadly at me and replied that that was just he was thinking.
I gave him a knowing look and winked. “So be it then.”
Once more we re-arranged the furniture to our taste and took a good look round the apartment. The more I looked, the more I liked it. Deciding that we’d done as much as we could here for the time being, we locked the door and went in search of a taxi to take us back to our hotel.
It was late afternoon by now and we were hot and sticky again. It was Gareth who spotted the sign pointing out the way to the hotel swimming pool, and dashed off to explore. I waited in the cafe with a cup of coffee for his return, watching the world go by and thinking about the future. Ten minutes later and he came bouncing through the doors to the cafe, his face wreathed in smiles.
“It’s brilliant!” he gasped out, “Come and see!” Leaving my unfinished coffee, I followed as he
retraced his steps back to the pool. He was right: it was good. It was half indoors and half out,
appeared to be of Olympic size, with loads of palms trees and other plants surrounding it as well as a cafeteria along one side. There were about twenty people using it, and there was still masses of room to spare. Mostly they were children of various ages, with just the occasional adult. There was also a life-guard I was pleased to note.
“Can we?” Gareth said excitedly, his eyes shining bright.
“Of course, let’s go change.”
Minutes later we were back on the pool-side, staring longingly at the water. Before I could do anything about getting in, Gareth gave me a slight push on the back and I was in, closely followed by my tormentor. The water was perfect and we swam a few lengths before sitting down on the edge of the pool watching the others enjoy themselves. Gareth, unlike me, seemed to have boundless energy, and was soon back in the water burning off some of his excess energy. Leaving him to his own devices, I let my eyes wander round the pool. Of the other kids in the water, I guessed that most of them were hotel residents, but there were a few who were obviously local as their colour and language demonstrated. And they were all boys, aged from about seven or eight up to 16 or so I judged. Two of them in particular attracted my attention. Olive-skinned, black-haired and about 13 or 14 years old, they had magnificent bodies, heightened by their very brief Speedo-type costumes. They were playing tag in the shallow end, the water lapping up to their groins. I couldn’t help but stare at their packages: both were well-endowed, with bulges that seemed enormous compared with the brevity of their costumes. They weren’t in the slightest bit embarrassed when they caught me staring at them, even gave me a little wave and smile before returning to their game. I continued to gaze at them, fascinated.
“Boywatching, huh?” Gareth said as he sat beside me. I looked at him, blushing. He dropped a towel in my lap and said quietly, “You’d better keep that there until it goes down.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I was just watching them for something to do.”
“Liar!” he grinned, “I know just what you were thinking.” Then, after a pause he added thoughtfully, “Wonder if they do or don’t?”
I was about to ask him what he meant, when it suddenly dawned on me what he meant. I gave him a wry grin and offered him my towel. “Need this?”
“Naah, Not yet anyway. Nice looking boys aren’t they,” he said as he surreptitiously adjusted his slightly swollen cock.
For the next half-hour we boy-watched, comparing notes as we picked one boy out and then another and trying to guess whether they ‘did or didn’t’. We had to stop eventually though as we both got boners which were more prominent that was proper and had to get into the water to hide them. Gareth was in a playful mood however, and after the third time he grabbed my balls I had to give his quite a hard squeeze before asking him to give it a rest. Without apology, he swam across to the other side of the pool and stared at me, poking his tongue out at me once in a while and nodding in the direction of some boy or other. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long, and he knew it. He rejoined me once I’d grinned back at him.
“Jake would love it here,” he said wistfully, his thoughts obviously following the same track as mine. He held my hand for a moment and gave it a quick squeeze.
“It’ll be OK, promise,” I said. “You’ll soon make friends once we’ve settled down.”
What with one thing and another we were very busy for the next ten days: at least I was anyway. I was getting used to the country, settling in to the new job and getting the flat organised. Gareth was busy exploring Cairo. At first I was worried about him wandering about the city alone, but once we’d established a few ground rules about when and where he went, about what he did and so on, it seemed to work out. He discovered two things which were important as far as he was concerned: firstly that the British Council offered a variety of educational courses which he was interested in, and also that most ex-patriates belonged to ‘Sporting Clubs’. These were really hang-overs from the old days when Cairo was host to a big community of foreign workers and each had a club which catered for their particular sports and other interests. Nowadays, although the foreigners were not as numerous, the clubs still remained and offered a wide range of activities, including restaurants and shops for the families of ex-patriate residents. One big advantage they had was that parents could be sure that their offspring could be left there in complete safety and security whilst they were are work. They could also meet friends there and spend the day swimming or playing tennis or something like. I enrolled Gareth and I at the nearest one to us, the Cairo Racing Club. In years gone by, it was the horse racing track, but that had long since disappeared, to be replaced by one of the newer and better clubs.
I was lucky enough to be earning what in local terms was a very good salary, and this had several
distinct advantages. Firstly it meant that we ate out most of the time, usually in a nearby bar, or at the club. The meals weren’t first class of course, but they were wholesome and plentiful: and it meant that neither Gareth or I would be subjected to our own cooking, which left a great deal to be desired, even at the best of times. The second thing it meant was that we could afford to employ a sort of maid-cum-housekeeper. For only a few pounds a week she would take care of the pair of us, cleaning, washing and so on, and even making the odd meal once in a while for us. She even spoke a little basic English which made our lives a damn sight easier!
One of the odd things which took some getting used to was the split week-end. Egypt, being an Islamic country of course, took its holiday on Fridays. There was also another holiday on Sundays as a large proportion of the population was Christian. Hence the working week was from Monday to Thursday, and Saturday. Strange in some ways, but good when you got used to it. I relaxed a lot more when Gareth enrolled at the British Council for some art and language courses. He was a good artist and took full advantage of the facilities they offered. He even enrolled on an Arabic course, which whilst hard work, proved to be a good one which we both benefited from.
The patio was a God-send. We were high enough not to be overlooked by anyone and once we’d got the domestic situation properly set up, moved one of the spare beds out there and used it as a lounger. We had some very pleasant evenings barbecuing out there and sharing a beer or two. As I mentioned before, the temperature between day and night never varied much, and we even slept out there several times when it got too hot to be indoors. It was Gareth of course who introduced another activity. I came home from work one afternoon to find no Gareth. I assumed he was out somewhere and wasn’t unduly concerned so I picked up a cold Seven-Up and went on the patio. To my surprise, Gareth was already out there working, his art books spread out on the table. It wasn’t the fact that he was working which took me by surprise, it was the fact that he was naked apart from his underwear. It hadn’t occurred to me before that this was an ideal place to sunbathe. He’d even moved the big electric fan out there to keep him cool!
“Hiya, Tiger! Comfortable?” I grinned as I stripped off my shirt.
“Yeah, thanks,” he smiled back at me. “You OK?”
“Yeah. Want a drink?” I asked, waving my bottle at him.
“Yes, please.” he said, closing his books.
When I got back with the drink, he picked up a big art book and came to sit with me on the
bed/lounger. The book was one about Greek sculpture, obviously connected with his course work, and we skimmed through it together as we drank.
“I wish I could do that,” he said, pointing at a beautifully carved statute of some Greek god or other. “Must’ve taken years to do that.”
He was right of course, the work was brilliant and even looked good two thousand years after it was done. Most of the statues were nude of course, and mostly male.
“You know when we studied Greek sculpture at school, all the statutes had fig leaves or something over their bits,” he put his finger on a god’s penis to emphasise his point,” and I always thought that’s the way they were made. It says here, though, that they were put on by the Victorians when they took them to England so’s not to offend anybody! I didn’t know that”
“Neither did I,” I admitted. “What are the other books?”
“Oh, paintings and so on. Wanna see?”
He collected another big book and opened it. They were Greek and Roman friezes and paintings,
much the same as the sculptures, but being in colour were more interesting.
“They seem to have a thing about nudity,” I grinned, “And men.”
“Yeah. Good aren’t they. Not very lifelike though. Most of them have got real small ones”
“No they’re not small,” I said, “You’re just lucky in the people you’ve met.”
He grinned at me and stuck his tongue out. “I was sunbathing just before you came in,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. I can see.” I took the elastic of his undies and gave them a little twang.
“Without anything on.” he added quietly, looking straight at me.
Automatically I stared around the building, and breathed a sigh of relief when I confirmed that no one could see us.
“I hope you used sun block, a sunburnt Gareth Junior would be very painful I imagine,” I laughed, resting a hand on his manhood. He winced.
“You’re joking!” I laughed, managing to half-stifle it.
He didn’t smile. “It’s bloody sore!” he said, “I gotta take these off before I die!”
He dropped his pants just as fast as he could and stood there in front of me, the cause of his problem blindingly obvious. From his waist down to the top of his thighs was bright, glowing red. It looked extremely raw and tender, and funny. Experimentally I touched his thigh with a finger-tip. He winced again as I made contact.
“Dickhead!” I grinned, “You should’ve known better. That bit of you hasn’t seen sunlight in years, it’s gotta be sensitive!”
“Well. I never thought. It seemed a good idea at the time.” He managed a slight smile this time, but was in distinct pain nevertheless.
I told him to wait there whilst I fetched the sunburn crème. “You gonna do it or shall I?”
“You do it.” he said.
Spreading a copious amount on my hand, I started to smooth the ointment in, starting at his waist and covering every square inch of his brightness.
“Turn round,” I asked as I took some more crème. I moved to his butt cheeks, which weren’t
anywhere near as burnt as his front – he must’ve been laying on his back, I mused as I finished the job. Playfully I stuck a couple of creamed fingers into his butt and wriggled them about. “How deep shall I go?” I giggled.
“Piss off!” he said, feeling better already. “Leave it alone.”
“OK, then. Turn round.”
He turned to face me and put his hands on my shoulders waiting for me to start. Once again I started at his waist, worked down his legs and left the ‘delicate’ bits until last.
I put one last splodge of crème on my fingers and wiped it down his semi-hard dick.
“This’s gonna be interesting,” I said, smiling up at him as I started to rub the crème in.
He close his eyes and bit his lips as I started. I felt him take a deep breath and hold it as I massaged his dick: he was trying his damnedest not to get hard, and succeeded for the most part. At least he did until I got to his balls, then he gave up. I watched as his tool expanded more and more as I deliberately rubbed more and more crème into him.
“This’s gonna be out of action for a few days,” I said, trying to be as serious as I could, but failing miserably and giving his tender member a very slight squeeze.
“Bollocks!” he said. He was smiling slightly, but knew it was true.
He lay down on the lounger beside me and was just about to put his head in my lap when he stood up again, grabbed me by the wrists and said, “Come on, your turn.”
I looked at him questioningly. “What?”
“Sunbathing. Like me.”
“No way, Jose,” I said, “I don’t want my meat to be roasted!”
“Please?” he begged, “I’ll put some sunblock on for you.”
That, of course was why he wanted me to join him. I only made a slight gesture of annoyance with him: he knew I’d give in sooner or later anyway, who could resist?
I stripped off as he retrieved the block and was laid back when he returned.
“Back first,” he commanded, so I turned over.
I must admit, the sensation was truly fantastic. I’d only ever been massaged properly a couple of times in my life, and never as sensuously as this. Alternately using his fingers lightly and his palms with more pressure he spread the crème all round my butt and thighs.
“Turn over,” he said at last.
I did so, my boner springing up immediately.
He never said a word, he didn’t need to. A wicked leer spread across his face as he squeezed crème onto his hand.
“We’re gonna enjoy this,” he giggled as he knelt down by my side.
My God! Did I enjoy it! The combination of the cooling, silky smooth crème, his fingers flitting about my groin and the sight of his still erect cock was way too much for me. I moaned as he made sure I was well and truly sun-blocked, going over each area a good more times than was needed, but who was I to object? He gazed at my swollen dick and balls lovingly as he administered the crème, fondling them as much as anything else. He replaced the cap on the bottle, set it on one side and continued with the massage, his face getting closer and closer to my cock.
‘Go on, go on,’ I thought to myself, ‘Don’t stop now. Go on’.
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, wishing that he would either take my cock in his mouth now or give up playing with me. For a full five minutes he teased me, sometimes taking his hand away, leaving my dick waving and pulsating in the air like a thing possessed, then grasping it again and holding it firmly as he moved his hand slowly up and down.
‘Bastard!’ I thought, ‘He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. I’ll kill him!’.
Just as I was about to scream out with frustration, he suddenly took my dick it his mouth and sucked as hard as he could, using his fingers to masturbate me at the same time. I was already near to bursting point before he started, and once I felt his tongue round my shaft, I lost it completely. With desperate, frustrated thrusts I lifted off the bed and sank my dick as far down his throat as I could, instantly spewing out a massive load of love juice down his gullet. It was wonderfully releasing for me and I dug my fingers into his hair as I forced him down as much as I could. Manfully he swallowed almost every drop of what must have been a gallon of cum, even squeezing my dick and balls to get at the last precious drops. Still he kept sucking, licking my now softening dick until I had to ease his head away: it was getting painful. I turned to look at him, hardly breathing. He was in a sort of daze, still holding my dick and staring at it. Down on the floor under his cock was a pool of his cum: he’d orgasmed himself whilst sucking me off!
“Jesus!” I sighed, falling back.
“Yeah!” he said, now smiling at me. “That was bloody amazing!”
“Mmmmmm,” I agreed. “Now come up here.”
He stood up, and for a moment Gareth was standing in full sunlight directly in front of me, his bronzed skin glistening, his cock now soft and nestled against his balls. Instantly a picture of the statutes we’d been looking at flashed into my mind. He was truly my Adonis, my David, and looked it just for that split second. I understood the pre-occupation the ancients had with naked males and empathised with them completely. Gareth lay alongside me, shaking slightly to my surprise, and rested his head on my chest, sticking his thumb in his mouth.
I was still in something of a state of shock still, seeing Gareth in this new light, and stroked his hair, thinking.
“Do me a favour will you?” I asked quietly.
He twisted round to look quizzically at me, his thumb still in his mouth.
“Draw me a picture?”
“What of?” he said, his brows now furrowed with curiosity.
“That picture of the boy David in your book. One of you, just like it.”
He smiled at the thought and nodded. “OK!” he grinned and moved up to kiss me. Without warning he suddenly jumped up and raced off into the flat, returning a couple of minutes later with his photograph album. “Remember this?” he said indicating one of the pictures.
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. It was the one I’d taken of him in his swimming costume, complete with
erection. “One like that I’d like, but as you are now.” I meant one of him at his current age, not one of him a couple of years ago, but he looked down at his body and grinned. I wouldn’t object to that either. He lay down again, reached over and kissed me, which is what we were still doing an hour later when hunger drove us out in search of food.
The following day, being Friday, was a holiday and we stayed out late that night. The bars and hotels in Cairo stay open as long as there are customers, and even at half past one in the morning, the local pub we were in was still busy. Gareth and I had had a few beers by then, and although not drunk by any means, were in a happy frame of mind. Just in passing, it is worthwhile noting that although a Muslim country, Egypt does produce and sell beer. Fortunately it is quite weak and you can drink a lot of it before getting drunk, which is useful in a hot climate such as this.
The main reason that we’d stayed late was because we’d met another Englishman who was living in Cairo. He was an engineer working on some major building project in downtown Cairo. Mike was about ten years older than me and told us that he’d been here for three years already and loved it. To my surprise, he also said that he’d got his son with him. We learned that he and his wife had separated soon after they’d arrived: she couldn’t stand the people or the country was her excuse, but Mike guessed that it was him she couldn’t stand any longer. Whatever the reason though, she’d gone back home and left Mike with their son, which suited them both nicely as it turned out.
We arranged to meet the following day in the club when he would bring his son, Peter, with him.
Gareth’s eyes lit up immediately. “How old is he?” Gareth asked.
“Thirteen, going on thirty,” Mike smiled. “He’s had to grow up fast and it shows! He can be a little … err … pain sometimes.” He looked at me and grinned, adding, “If you know what I mean.”
I nodded and looked sidelong at Gareth, who responded with one of his ‘Me? I’m perfect!’ looks.
We slept outside that night, dropping off almost as soon as our heads hit the cushions. Apart from being quite tired, the beer helped as well and it was mid-morning before we eventually came to.
Lazily I stared at the open sky and stretched, inadvertently rousing Gareth as moved.
“Morning,” he yawned, curling up into a ball, and closing his eyes again.
“Morning Tiger,” I replied. “Time we made a move.”
I slapped him on his bare butt to wake him up properly.
“Go ‘way,” he sighed, “I’m too comfortable to move.”
I rolled him over onto his back and tickled him under the arms, which did the trick. Opening his eyes he pulled a face at me and said, “Sod you, I gotta go to the toilet now!”
We showered, had a quick breakfast and headed off to the club to meet Mike and Peter for lunch.
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