Gay Erotic Stories

“That was my driver; he has just crossed the George Washington Bridge.” Fazzi said as he put down the telephone, “We still have time, but I think it would be nice if we were there to greet Worthington when he arrives. We will take your car Yussef, and since I know where the cafe is, I will drive. Wait for me in the hall; I want to say good night to Mary before we leave.”

Fazzi found both his wife and Kassie in the kitchen and told them that they were about to leave the house, and not to wait up, as they would be very late. The women came out into the hallway to say good-bye to Joseph.

“Don’t wait up for us. Your father has a big evening planned and I just might have to return to base right away.” Joseph said after kissing Kassie and saying good night to her mother. As they left the house Joseph handed Fazzi the keys and they got in, and drove off.

As they left the estate, Fazzi turned to Joseph and said, “You look very handsome tonight Yussef. I am tempted to forget about this meeting and find a hotel or motel and just spend the evening making love to you.”

Joseph placed his hand on Fazzi’s leg and playfully ran his fingers up and down the older man’s thigh. Then he leaned over, nuzzled Fazzi’s ear and whispered, “Business first, my hot blooded Arab lover. Perhaps later I will have a long, hard, hot treat for you to enjoy.” Then running his hand to Fazzi’s groin, his fingers caressed the Arab’s hardening penis.

“OHHHHHHHHH, Stop! You are such a naughty boy tonight! You will cause me to crash us up if you keep that up,” the astonished Arab said as he tried to keep the car from swerving off the road. “Yussef, I can not believe this. Are you telling me that you are beginning to enjoy our ‘playtime’?”

“Don’t you want it to be true?” he asked withdrawing his hand from Fazzi’s crotch, “or were you just playing with me, leading me on? Was I to be just another one of your numerous conquests, and then you would throw me over for someone else? Was that all that our ‘playtime’, as you call it, meant to you???”

“NO! NO! It was not like that at all!” the Arab said as he pulled the car out of traffic and onto the shoulder of the road. Turning to Joseph he reached out for him and took him into his arms and kissed him. “Please do not ever even think that,” he said breaking the kiss. “I want you to know that I loved you from the first time I set eyes upon you. Yes, I have to confess that for a very short time it was all about sex. I looked at you and saw a vision of Paradise. Your virgin, blond, handsome naked body, covered in different colored silky veils spread out before me. My fingers wanted to reach out and remove one veil at a time revealing your body to me. That was all I wanted, just your body, nothing else. As Allah is my witness, I admit it. Then something changed. Without your doing anything, you made me want to expose my true self to you. It was weird and strange to me. I found myself forced to look upon you in a different way. I still wanted you! However, now I wanted your soul first and then your body. This kind of want was something new to me. I had always wanted the bodies of my lovers, never even thought of their wants, or their feelings. It was then that I decided that I had to have you and would do whatever I had to do to get you.” Fazzi said as the tears now streamed down his cheeks. “I just never dared to even dream you would want me, not me, with this old used up body of mine.”

Reaching into the glove compartment of the car, Joseph pulled out some tissues and wiped Fazzi’s tears away and said, “Here, dry your eyes, it would not look good if Worthington was to see you all red eyed. You and I have work to do tonight. We can talk about this later. Perhaps after the meeting if we have time. We can relax and let our feelings come out into the open. Dry your eyes now,” he said, kissing his eyes and lips, “and let’s get to that meeting. I’m getting hungry.”

Fazzi got himself together and shifted the car into drive and they continued on to the cafe. They arrived, parked, got out of the car and gave the keys to the parking valet. Standing there Fazzi heard his cell phone ring. He answered and said into the phone, “Excellent timing, we have just arrived ourselves. We will be waiting outside.” Then he said to Joseph, “The car will be here in a minute or two. Please, you greet him and make the introductions. Do I look all right? I am so nervous.”

“You look wonderful, relax ‘habibi’. Richard is a regular guy, you will like him and I’m sure he will like you.” Joseph said, just as the limo pulled up to the curb. The driver got out and opened the door for Worthington.

Richard senior got out of the car and Joseph extended his hand to him and after exchanging greetings he introduced him to Fazzi. “I am pleased to meet you at last Mr. Muhammad, Yussef, as you call him has told me a lot of nice things about you.”

“He has always spoken most highly of you, too.” Fazzi said. “Please, call me Fazzi. When people call me ‘Mr.’ I think they are talking to my father. Was the ride comfortable?”

“Most comfortable and your driver was excellent.” Richard said taking Fazzi’s extended hand and shaking it, “and please, call me Richard.”

With Fazzi leading the way, they passed a doorman dressed in flowing robes and a turban, who had opened an ornately decorated heavy door for them. As they passed by him he bowed and touched his fingers to his heart, lips and forehead and wished them ‘Marhaba, Mesaa El Kair’, Hello, Good evening gentlemen, welcome to the 'Cafe Casablanca'.”

As soon as they were inside, they were greeted by the owner of the establishment, Mr. Amoz, who in formal Arabic bowed and said, “Ahaaaaa, Sheikh Muhammad, welcome to my humble establishment. It is so nice to see you again, my lord. It has been too long since we have had the honor of serving you. May I assist you with your coats?” After checking their coats, the owner directed them to a low table surrounded by comfortable high cushions and saw to their comfort and seating.

“Who is going to dance tonight?” Fazzi asked the host in Arabic.

“Dina, a young and most talented dancer from Egypt.” The owner said.

“I think I have heard of her. She is one of the best. Do you also have a male dancer tonight?”

“We usually do have a male dancer, however tonight, he is sick and can not perform. I’m sure that Dina will more than entertain your party tonight. I will see to it that she dances for your table above all others.”

“That is most unfortunate indeed I so looked forward to proving to my friends that there was such a thing as a male belly dancer.’ Fazzi said, and then turning to Richard, he apologized for using Arabic, “I’m sorry but the owner’s English is…. is... is…Yussef what is the word…?”

“Limited?”

“Yes. Limited.” The Arab said turning to the owner, he asked, “What do you recommend that we eat this evening? These two gentlemen are very important friends and businessmen that I am trying to impress.”

“Sheikh, for you and your friends, only the best will do, and you shall have it. May I suggest our shi-ka-bob? It is made with lamb that has been marinated for 12 hours then impaled on metal swords with fresh vegetables and roasted to perfection and served over steaming couscous. However, everything else on the menu is also excellent and I will personally make sure the cook treats your order with the utmost respect and care.” The owner assured them. He then signaled a waiter to bring the menu. “This young man, Amir, will be your waiter. His English is much better than mine, and he will see to your order. Have a pleasant evening and if you need me–I will be available. Just feel free to call on me.” Then in heavily accented English he turned toward Joseph and Richard and said, “I hope you enjoy the evening and that I will have the pleasure and opportunity to see and serve you gentlemen again and often. When you do come in again, please remind me that you are friends of Mr. Muhammad and I will consider it an honor to personally see to your comfort.”

“Thank you. And we will be sure to remind you.” They both said.

The waiter came over and recited a long list of specials. When asked about certain dishes he responded that they were all very good and any would please your pallets, however his personal recommendation was the shish-ka-bob. The chef is a Bedouin and no one cooks ka-bobs like a Bedouin.

The three of them agreed on the Ka-bobs and in short order a meal fit for kings was set before them. In addition there were several different types of wines offered and served.

“It appears that wine is one of those ‘concessions’ to Western culture that the owner of this place has made.” Fazzi said, “Another is that there is no smoking permitted here. In the 'Old Country', in most eating establishments, liqueur would not be openly offered, however, there would be a communal Hooker pipe placed in the center of the table. Most likely there would be some high quality hashish in the bowl. Some of my people prefer that mild drug to wine, but I would rather have a drink.”

Joseph and Richard both commenting on the quality of the food and agreed that the wine really enhanced the meal and could not see where a drug and the smoke would add anything to its flavor.

“I can’t think of anything that would improve this evening more.” Worthington said. “A Water pipe, might add a bit of ‘local color’ and atmosphere, but the food, the ambiance and the company are entirely sufficient. Fazzi, I don’t recall when I have spent a more delightful evening.”

“Now, Richard, there I would have to disagree with you.” Fazzi said. “There are two additional things that come to mind, and here comes one of them now.” The waiter approached the table and with much ‘showmanship’ poured the steaming, black Turkish coffee into small glasses set in silver holders from an old highly ornate silver coffee pot. “That pot is called a ‘Fin Jon’. You will find one like it, well maybe not as fancy, in almost every Arab household that I know. No true Arab would drink anything else but Turkish coffee. I suggest you at least try this. I’m sure that here you could request decaf or ‘filter’ coffee if you prefer. However, in the future if you are to deal with us Arabs, you will find that deals are made and sealed over a Fin Jon.”

They both opted to try the ‘Turkish Coffee’ and were not disappointed as it added the crowning touch to the meal. “Sip it slowly,” Fazzi directed. They drank the hot sweet coffee and munched on sweet Baklava as they sank back into the soft cushions and enjoyed the coffee and conversation.

Fazzi asked Worthington questions about investing and how Wall Street really works and Richard gave him his number one sales pitch along with telling him stories of some of the more bizarre things that happened on the street. Along with being charming, Richard was able to get Fazzi to relax and to laugh at some of his stories. Soon the two men became fast friends. With Joseph translating some words and phrases now and then the three men really got to enjoy each other’s company. Richard inquired about how much Fazzi and his friends were prepared to invest. Fazzi mentioned that for a start--perhaps half to three quarters of a million. He was hoping to attract some oilmen to come into the investment club with him. He told him that most of the profits made would be donated to Cultural, Educational and Medical facilities in the Middle East as well as to several Arab institutions here in the United States.

“Ahhhh, so, am I right in assuming that you want this “Club” handled like a Charity?” he Asked, “Something along the lines of a ‘Catholic Charities’ type of operation.”

“Yes, something similar to that is what I had in mind.” Fazzi said. “You see most of my friends and I have made it ‘big’ in America and we feel the need to give some of it back as well as send some help back to our families and friends in the old countries where they have not been so fortunate as we have been. And let us face it, we Muslims could use some ‘good will’ and good press.”

“We could set it up like that and also get you a nice tax write-off.” Richard said. “I don’t see a problem. We could set it up something like the Jews and Salvation Army have set up the united type funds they have. However it would have to be very carefully monitored as I’m sure the government is going to ask a lot of questions.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will and we would welcome their investigations. We have nothing to hide. Just so long as we are allowed the same considerations as the other charities. We would want all kinds of checks and balances in place. We would have a group of respected community people to serve as board members, headed by myself, to see that it was… kept honest and on the up and up. Yussef, what is that word that I’m looking for?? That Jew word…”

“Do you mean ‘kosher’?’ He offered.

“Yes that’s it.” Fazzi laughed and the three of them joined in his joke. “It must be ‘kosher’, but in an Arab way.”

Well as long as it is ‘kosher’ I can see no reason why we can not arrange something.” Richard said and added; “as long as it is going to be for charity I think I can assure you that I myself will lower my fee for handling this for you, by say, oh, a few percentage points. After all why should you be the only ones to get a tax write-off?”

“Richard, my friend, you are in business to make money.” Fazzi said, “I do not see the need for your giving us a discount. Like our friend Yussef told my committee the other evening when he met with them, ‘you should expect to pay a lot of money to make money’ and we do expect to pay you top dollar for your advise and help.”

“Yussef said that! Well I guess I trained him well. One thing is for sure you get what you pay for on Wall Street. And you will pay, but I will see to it that we will all make a lot of money on this. I want your business and I also want the good will of the Arab/American community,” Richard said, “and after that I hope to become the funnel though which many millions if not billions of dollars flow. So you see it is not a matter of charity for me, but cold pure profit.”

The lights in the room lowered and Fazzi leaned forward and said, “Gentleman, we have had our food and coffee and did a little business, now for the piece ‘de resistance’, the entertainment. The room turned dark and suddenly the most intoxicating music was heard and a small spotlight lit up a small area where the stage curtains came together. Snake-like a woman’s hand appeared with little finger cymbals clinking in time to the music. The arm moved, like a cobra, twisting and turning, in time to beat of the music. The arm was followed by a perfect female body clothed from head to foot in different colored silk sheer material that you could almost see through. Both the men and the few women in the place gasped at the sensual body dancing before them. Her headdress was composed of gold coins and gold chains extending down to cover her neck and rest on her shoulders. It acted as pointers to her magnificent breasts.

Those breasts were encased in two golden cups that pushed them up and forward. They appeared to move independent of each other, yet were completely controlled by the dancer’s body movements. Her dark hair framed a beautiful face with ruby red lips, all this set in flawless olive skin and covered with a transparent thin silk face covering that only directed your eyes to two pools of water that served as her eyes. The music was intoxicating, and she made full use of it to imprison your soul as she flowed like a river around the room as one silk veil after another artfully fell from her body. Her body movements created a sexual fantasy that had the audience on their feet clapping and whistling and screaming for more. Yet, while she hinted, and left little to the imagination she never exposed herself or anything vital. Many of the men tried to insert dollar bills into the waist belt of her costume, but they soon learned that this was not the thing to do as she artfully avoided contact.

After a while she danced her way to Fazzi’s table and after wiggling her hips and making flirtatious and beguiling belly movements she asked him if he would like to join her on the stage and dance with her. Fazzi declined but instead offered Joseph to her as a dancing partner. Delighted to have the slim good-looking younger man instead of the older man, she took his hand, assisted him to his feet, and directed him to the stage. Feeling his reluctance, she whispered to him, “Don’t worry, you will just have to stand there while I dance around you. Just don’t move till I tell you.” She maneuvered him under a hook hanging from the ceiling and taking one of her silk scarves she quickly and loosely tied his wrists together and raised his hands to the hook making it appear like he was hanging there. She danced around him like he was her captive. She made it appear that she was torturing him with her sexual charms.

She rubbed her body against Joseph’s squirming form, bringing hoots and hollers from the audience. She ended up swaying her body before him and moving to press her gyrating ass against his cock and she whispered, “Bring your arms down around me--NOW!” Joseph lowered his arms encasing her body. The lights went out as she slipped out from his arms and the lights came back on with her standing beside him bowing to a cheering audience and telling him to take a bow also.

She returned him to the table and thanked him for helping her. Fazzi then asked her to join them for a drink after she had freshened up. She said she would be pleased to, but only for a short while. She then left to return backstage and walked through the cheering crowd to the rear of the cafe.

“You did very well my friend,” Fazzi said with Richard agreeing. “There was not a man here that did not envy you.”

“It was rather fun and someday I might want to learn to dance like that.” Joseph said. “She is really something. Do all Arab women know how to dance like that?”

“Some Arab fathers insist that their daughters learn to dance like that, just like American fathers have been know to insist their daughters learn ballet or the tap dance.” Fazzi informed them. “It is not only a matter of culture, but some of us feel that dancing like that adds to the bridal price value of the girl. Others just get pleasure watching their daughters perform. Perhaps you Americans will misunderstand this part of our culture. I think this is because of your puritanical upbringing. My own daughter has taken such lessons and while not as good as Dina, she could give a respectable performance.”

After Dina had washed and changed to her street clothes she joined them for a few drinks and friendly conversation. The men joked about the way Joseph had looked so scared on stage. “He was excellent,” she protested while smiling at him, “sometimes a man will try to grab me and carry me off. Sometimes they become so aroused that I have to offer them something to cover themselves with. I have had men try to rip off my clothes on stage.” Looking up and directing their attention to a bull of a man standing near the exit, she said, "you see that big man over there, the one with all the mussels? He is my protector. He sees to it that I get home in one piece. Gentlemen, I thank you for the drinks but I see him telling me to go now. It was nice to meet all of you. And Yussef, if you ever decide you would like to join my act, I would be glad to have you as a regular. Here is my card. Just give me a call. Good night.”

After she left Richard said, “It is getting late and I too must be going if I am to get home tonight. I thank you for a wonderful night and look forward to your call when you arrange that meeting. Be sure to call as soon as you can.”

“Yes it is getting late and we all should get to bed.” Fazzi said as they all got up and headed to the coatroom. Fazzi took care of the bill and thanked the owner of the establishment. They got their coats and outside found their cars were waiting for them. Joseph again said good night to Mr. Worthington and got into the passenger seat of the BMW. Fazzi, who was again going to drive, waved good-bye as the limo pulled away and then sat beside Joseph.

“Well Fazzi, what did you think of him?” Joseph asked as they drove off.

“He is a wonderful man and I think we can do business together. I like him and I thank you for bringing us together. Do you think it would be helpful if I invited him and his family to come to meet our community? Just to get to know us better. What do you think of that idea, habibi?”

Joseph thought a while then said; “I think it would be a wonderful idea, but, only after he has had an opportunity to conduct that meeting with the investors. If for some reason something should go wrong–you would not look like the fool having wasted time and money with no possibility of a return.”

“You, my love, are beginning to think like an Arab,” he said reaching over and placing his hand on the soldier’s crotch.

“Is that bad?” Joseph said, placing his hand over Fazzi’s and pressing it into his crotch. “I hope it is not too late for you to come up and have a night-cap–is it, habibi?”

“Only if you want me to, Yussef. As you know I would not want to force you. Do you realize that this is the first time, my dear, that you have asked me without my first putting you on the spot?”

“Yes, my Sheikh,” he said as he pressed Fazzi’s fingers around his hardening cock. “I guess the music and the belly dancer just got to me. I feel so horny now. At first I thought it was something you might have slipped into my drink or food. But, then, I remembered that on the way here, in the car, I felt that way.”

“Oh, my beloved, just hold onto those thoughts.” He stammered as Joseph cock jerked under his fingers. “We will be home in a few minutes–that is unless you want to check into a motel!”

“No, my Sheikh, you have me on your white stallion, carry me away to your desert tent and make love to me, master,” he moaned as he reached over and squeezed Fazzi’s crotch and placed his lips on his ear and nibbled on it.

“We will go to your apartment. It is closer and we can be alone there. Too many of the motels in this area know me and there would be talk,” he said as he removed his fingers from Joseph’s crotch. “Now let me get us there in one piece.”

Five minutes later they had parked the car in the garage and Joseph grabbing Fazzi’s hand pulled the Arab up the steps to his apartment. Inside he locked the door and enfolded the excited, but bewildered man into his arms and kissed him hotly and passionately. Kissing his lips, his eyes and his ears. Joseph started to pull the clothes off the panting middle-aged man. Exposing his chest and devouring the exposed neck and shoulders with kisses, nibbles and one or two hickeys. Joseph was driving him frantic. They were soon both undressed, their clothes thrown here and there. Joseph pulled Fazzi into the darkened bedroom and they rolled onto the bed together. Rolling over each other, kissing and hugging as their bodies became entwined seeking satisfaction and release.

“Yussef darling, please, I want to fuck you!” Fazzi almost screamed.

“Fuck me??? No! I can’t let you do that, my love. While I may call you, Sheikh and master, it is me who is to be the dominant one. And if anyone here is to be fucked, it will be you, lover.” He said as he drove his tongue in and out of Fazzi’s ear. “No, first you must submit to my will, as you claim to submit to Allah’s. You will do what I say and when I say it, is that understood?”

“And if I refuse,” he said. “What will you do?”

“But, you will not refuse. You know you want me to dominate you–you have from the start. Do you know how I know this?”

“No, But I’m sure you will tell me.” The quaking Arab said.

“I may not get every detail right but from what I can guess, your first and perhaps the only true love you ever had till now, was a high ranking army officer. He took your virginity and your love. He dominated you and caused you to do things that you might never have done, except with him. Then he either had to dump you because he became afraid to be exposed or more likely was killed in one of those many wars you are always having over there. Since than every affair and even your marriage has placed you in the dominating roll. You hated it. You went from one affair to another never finding satisfaction. Then one Friday you see me. I am in uniform. It brings back memories of your first love. Since I am not the Arab Sheikh you really want, you dream up this picture of a white Christian Knight galloping up and reaching down to lift you onto his white charger. You picture me slinging you across the saddle and carrying you away into the desert sunset. In fact, to fan this illusion you even gave me the modern version of a white charger, the BMW. You offered me your daughter, in hopes that I would live with your family, thereby making it possible for you to see me anytime you want.”

“What you really would like is get both Kassie and Mary out of your life, making it possible for you and I to live together with me as your white knight and you as the swooning maiden. You want me to dominate you–you need it–yet you also want it to appear that you are the master. How am I doing? Did I get it right?”

“Yes, Yussef, for the most part you have gotten it right. Most of what you say is the truth. I want and need you as my lover and, yes, even as my master. Tonight when I saw you on the stage, I pictured myself as the captive hanging there being whipped by both Kassie and Mary. Then you came charging up on your white horse to rescue me and carry me away.”

He said, “But I know that was fantasy and in real life I can not appear to be subservient to any man. As an Arab man I would loose face. That would be a sign of weakness and my life as a community leader would be over.”

“No one is talking about your ‘Public Face’ here. You know I can and will help you keep that illusion. Both you and I are prisoners of our public lives. Neither of us can afford to expose ourselves: you, because of your position in this community and me because of the army. What we do in private has to be kept between the four of us, you, me, Kassie and Mary. Perhaps in the future we will be able to ‘come out’. At that point Kassie and Mary can either stay or leave, but they must have the freedom to choose. Permit them this freedom or I will take Kassie away from you and you will never see either of us again.” He threatened, “Do I make myself clear, lover? It is to be that way or no way. Do you agree, Habibi?”

Joseph was laying it out on the line. He was gambling that what Kassie had said about her father being hopelessly in love with him was true. Now was the time to gain the upper hand. It was do or die, shit or get off the pot time.”

To be continued…