It was a long and tiring drive to Kandahar, and on the way we passed through many check points and several burnt out tanks. The Taliban commander, Samir, drove. He hated being chauffered anywhere and though the car reeked of leeking petrol he smoked continuously, stopping only to lecture his passengers.

“Only fat bourjois Arabian bitches have chauffeurs. No Yemeni man allows himself to be driven anywhere.”

Samir embarked on a monologue about the historical superiority of Yemen. It might now be the poorest Arab nation on earth but at one time it had been the centre of the world trade in exotic spices, silks, scents and slave boys with a military strength that had defeated both the Romans and the Egyptians.

“Nasser, What do you think about him ?” He asked, looking pointedly at me in the driving mirror.

“I am too young to know,” I said tactfully, noticing a look of desire in the Major’s eyes.

“Well, he was certainly a lot more handsome than Mubarak. God, I don’t know what Suzanne must think every time she wakes up staring into that pig like face.”

Everyone laughed, but the major’s quips bored the arse off me and I soon fell asleep, woken just once when an officer knocked on the car window at yet another check point. It must have been atleast six hours later that I was shaken awake by Samir. Everyone else had obviously already been dropped off because I was the only remaining passenger. It was night time but there was the faint light of approaching dawn in the east. And silhoutted against the dim half light, stood a large building with several outhouses.

The entrance was guarded by two Taliban soldiers. They recognised the major immediately and didn’t even ask to check our papers, but Samir paused for a few moments to exchange a few pleasantries.

Then I followed Samir down a poorly lit corridor and up a worn stone staircase smelling strongly of urine. A few more steps took us to a door with the words “Major Samir Mohamed” scrawled on it in chalk.

He turned on the light, bolted the steel door behind him and showed me a map already laid out across a large table. He asked me to study the area of Northern Alliance troop positions north of Jalalabad. Since I was standing on the “west side” of the table, and Jalalabad is in North East Afghanistan, and because the “north eastern corner” of the table had been shoved tight against the walls, this involved me bending over and stretching across Afghanistan, exposing my behind.

I felt his hand give the cheeks of my bottom a gentle pinch, squeezing the tight flesh between his sweaty fingers.

“Teazak asal” [Your buttocks are like honey] he said excitedly, as I scrambled to get upright and into a more defendable position.

“Afghan prostitutes have such fat flabby off-putting behinds,” he declared as he watched me coldly. “You seem a little shocked but I am afraid you are going to have to get used to a few informalities around here,” Samir continued. “I am going to have to test your bir [well] to see if it’s going to be wide and deep enough.”

“You will have to kill me first,” I protested.

“That’s just the point I feared I would have to make,” Samir confessed. “I have three witnesses who will swear they saw you being fucked in the arse. You will be too lucky to suffer a simple execution for such a sordid crime. You will be forced to wear a Burqa and the crowds will stone you until you beg Allah for a quick death. However a doctor will be at hand to prevent any such easy escape.”

“When you recover consciousness you will be whipped until you are almost dead. As soon as you are partially recovered you will have a hot iron repeatedly inserted up your rectum. The next day you will have your genitals electrified until they burn and then after a few further days of unbearable torture you will be taken to the stadium in Kabul where you will again be stoned by an angry mob – this time until you die. May be, I’ve got some of the punishments in the wrong order for which I pray Allah will forgive me and I may have forgotten a few other indignities but you get my point.”

“I will tell them that you tried to fuck me,” I protested.

“Why will they care ? Anyone can excuse a man from wanting to pleasure his penis who takes advantage of whatever is to hand but a man who pleasures himself by allowing another man’s cock to enter his hole – there can be no forgiveness for him. He is worse than a Shia prostitute. And no one will believe a word such a worthless sharmurt [male prostitute] says. I apologize for being so frank, Ahmed. Now be a good soldier and bend over the table.”

I knew I had no alternative if I wanted to live. I slowly took off my gallibaya and bent over the map table, my nose touching kabul and my exposed behind lying somewhere on the Iranian border.

I felt his limp somewhat cold cock touch my right buttock cheek. Was he nervous I wondered or was he just having difficulties imagining I was a woman ? He gently moved his member from side to side and slowly, very slowly, it inflated and he began to ease it into my hole. I relaxed my buttocks and this time I discovered that it went in with surprisingly little pain.

Just then we heard a knock on the door.

“Hara” [shit], Samir swore, as he extracted his cock and quickly adjusted his gallibaya. I was equally quick in putting mine back on.

Samir unbolted the door and to my suprise there was a woman dressed in a black burqa. She smelt srongly of perfume more reminiscent of an Italian or French woman, than any Afghan women I had ever met. And why had she come on her own without a male escort ? Why had she not been arrested ? She was certainly extraordinarily indiscreet.

Samir laughed, and looking at me, issued a somewhat unorthodox order.

“Get your dick out Ahmed, let this woman have a bit of fun.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. I threw off my gallibaya and my penis sprang upwards as I closed on the woman, who was already on her knees. Her right hand greedily grabbed my penis while her left hand passed through my pubic hair and caressed my right leg.

I noticed that, somewhat bizarely, she had had a hole slit for her mouth in her burqa, and she moved my penis towards it, her hands now gripping my buttocks. Then I eased my penis into her mouth but I was totally unprepared for what I discovered.

A beard under the burqa. A beard tickling my cock. I heard another laugh from Samir. And now the man in the burqa stopped caressing me, shuffled backwards and lifted his burqa off.

The next moment was the most astonishing of my life. For looking down at the now naked man kneeling in front of me I instantly recognised him. I can’t express my surprise sufficiently without explaining to the reader that for us Taliban soldiers Allah and Osama were a sort of holy duality. To see him on his knees in such an uncompromisingly self-indulgent submissive position was for those first few moments truly shocking. Sensing my deep embarassment, Samir edged closer to me.

“Don’t worry, our great Osama isn’t gay. It’s an experiment he likes to make to see whether a new recruit likes women. He hates queers. He only likes to fuck straight boys and I guess, judging by that huge hard on you had, he’s more than happy with you. From now on, he will be fucking you every day. You will be one of his boy wifes.”

As soon as Samir finished, He who I was sure knew every word that Samir had just uttered, began examining me, running one hand over my shoulder muscles. They had grown considerably during my constant trips to the gymn in my first and only student year in Cairo. He gently touched my penis and played with it gently so that it grew and then stretching his fingers calculated it’s approximate length and complemented Samir on accomplishing his mission.

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Scott and Anthony walked arm in arm along the beach, headed back to their hotel. Everything about this holiday had turned out to be wonderful, the beach, the Bosporus sea, the clubs and nightlife in Istanbul. They had spent days exploring palaces and the Grand Bazaar, bought some marvelous cloth and rugs to take home and decorate, but most of all, they were enjoying the time to be together.

Back home in the States, each of them had a career that was very important to them. Unfortunately, both of them worked in a field where their sexual orientation could have caused them to lose career, reputation, everything. Never even mind the interracial angle. And so their relationship always had to be a secret. They had separate apartments, separate lives, and were lucky to steal a few hours together deep in the night, always hiding and worrying.

The vacation had been years in the planning, but it had been done, and had proven well worth it.

Two marvelous weeks of going places together openly, holding hands, kissing, relaxing at the Hamam, dancing at the Douche Club, sampling the exotic wares in the Bazaar, but probably the best times of all were the times alone in their hotel room with no pressure and no worries.

They laughed together and joked about it being their honeymoon.

And tonight was their last night.

They walked together in companionable silence, hands intertwined, the moon shining down on them like a blessing, the waves shushing all thoughts and worries about tomorrow and the days to follow.

Entering their motel room, Scott dimmed the lights and turned to take Anthony in his arms for a lingering kiss. Slowly, they undressed each other in silence, as if words might break the fragile spell that kept them in this fantasyland. The smell of exotic spices drifted in the window and mixed with the scent of male musk that rose from them as they explored each others bodies as if for the first time.

Anthony lingered over Scott’s chest and arms as he slowly slid the shirt back to expose them. He had always loved the glossy black curls that covered Scott’s muscular chest and held the scent of him. Burying his nose in them he savored the scent that was Scott, male perfume mixed with heady spices, he rubbed his face against the full curves of Scott’s pecs, reaching out a long tongue to give the nipples a quick, teasing swipe, watching them grow hard and listening to Scott’s heartbeat quicken.

He stepped away slightly and Scott ran his hands up under his polo shirt, drawing it off over Anthony’s head and up his arms to the wrists, then using it as a bit of light bondage, drawing Anthony’s arms behind his back, twisted and caught in the fabric. Anthony caught his breath and put his head back, eyes closed with pleasure as Scott’s sharp teeth nipped at his tits, the tiny pinpoints of pain lancing through him to make his cock tingle with desire. Scott’s hot breath teased his sensitive skin as he slowly knelt down in front of him, kissing him lightly over his deep chocolate six pack, working his way with tiny licks and nips to the ticklish spot right below his navel.

Anthony giggled and tried to twist away, starting a gentle wrestling match that wound up with them falling onto the bed, Scott wrapped around his back and nuzzling his neck. The gentle tickling resolved into a tingle that started a deep warmth in Anthony’s groin, especially as his wiggling butt brought an answering heat and the swelling of Scott’s big cock through his slacks.

Rubbing his hard dick against Anthony’s hard ass, Scott worked his hands beneath his ebony lover and slid them down the front of his pants to tease and stroke with just the tips of his pale fingers the hard on now raging for release.

Anthony managed to roll over beneath him, and quickly unfastened Scotts slacks and jerked them down to release that massive pale prick, throbbing hot pink from desire. He smiled and took it in his dark hand for a few quick strokes before Scott sat up on Anthonys legs and trapped him so he could do the same, unfastening and pulling Anthonys pants down to his thighs. An equally massive black cock stood proud and rock hard as Scotts pale hand surrounded it.

Moaning with pleasure, Anthony managed to recapture Scotts pole with one hand, squeezing his balls with the other and began stroking it slowly, teasing, running his thumb over the head to spread the first drop of precum, bringing Scotts prick to maximum distention, its color darkening to almost purple as the blood rushed in.

Scott rolled away, reaching and scrabbling around in the bedside table drawer for the anal lube. Anthony rolled with him and slid down the bed so he could wrap full, dark lips around that pale prick. A shuddering groan of passion escaped from Scotts broad chest as he dropped the lube and rested both hands in Anthonys short, dense black hair and twisted his fingers in it.

“Oh God,” he moaned, “you’re going to make me cum!”

Anthony chuckled around a mouthful of hard cock and the vibrations only served to excite Scott even more. Involuntarily his butt flexed, thrusting the hard prick deeper into Anthony’s greedy mouth. Anthony hummed with pleasure.

The vibrations traveling down his shaft into his balls were the final straw and Scott felt the cum rush up from inside of him, his dick exploding in Anthonys warm, sucking mouth, draining him until he felt as if he were turning inside out, he couldn’t stop himself from shoving Anthony down on him as his hips thrust hard at his black lovers face.

Pleasure and pain became an unbearable combination as Anthony continued to suck him until his dick helplessly responded by becoming aroused and rock hard yet again. Then, at last, Anthony released him from his mouth, and looked up at him, white teeth flashing in his face in a satisfied smile.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” Scott asked, teasing.

“Almost…”

Anthony replied, then picked up the anal lube where it was sitting on the floor and began coating Scotts screamingly sensitive prick with it, stroking him to throbbing passion again, before, with a smile, slowly and carefully lowering his tight black ass over that shuddering pale cock, engulfing it into the hot, tight, slick dark cave.

Scott closed his eyes and moaned, then reached down and captured that black, throbbing prick, squeezing and stroking to bring a few drops of precum to the head, then spreading them as they dribbled down the shaft. He cupped Anthonys dark balls as Anthony slowly, carefully began to ride the pale dick, sliding himself up and down, spreading his ass cheeks to take Scott deep inside him, his eyes closed and head tilted back, looking like an African Prince. Scott never got enough of looking at his beautiful lover and marveling that this man was his.

As Scott began stroking that big black cock, harder and faster, Anthony increased his speed, ramming himself down on Scott’s hard dick, a moaning beginning deep in his throat as he ground his hard ass against Scott’s balls, sucking that hard white dick into his tight anus while Scott stroked his black cock harder and faster and now thrust himself up into him. Their rhythm and heat increased until Anthony cried out in orgasm, his creamy cum shooting high into the air and coating Scott’s hand and chest.

Anthony freed one hand and rubbed his own cum into Scott’s chest hairs as Scott began spasming, pouring yet another load of hot cum into Anthony’s hard ass, grabbing him by the hips and slamming him down as he thrust as deep as he could inside of the dark cave of pleasure.

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