Open Sesame

By: Hank Horne
(© 2018 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

HHorne@tickiestories.us

Chapter 7

Maji and I slept fitfully that night because of all the excitement.  Our private flight to Geneva didn’t leave until late morning where I had arranged for First Class tickets for the four of us to Washington on Swissair.  When we got back to our room after breakfast, the phone was ringing.  It was Jim; he wanted me to stop by the Embassy and get a dispatch for the State Department from him.  He gave me a letter saying that I was carrying an official State Department envelope which was marked and sealed for getting through Customs in both Switzerland and the U.S.A.  He had placed a call to the directors of both countries’ customs office and received verbal clearance for me to carry it.  The letter included the names and phone numbers of the big bosses for verification.  I had no idea what it could be — but said big bosses had notified their line agents to look for me and what I would be carrying.  The four of us passed through almost as if we had diplomatic clearance.  Passports checked, visas verified, “Thank you very much and enjoy your trip!”

The limo was waiting for us when we landed, although it still took forever to get our luggage, but finally we were headed into DC and out Connecticut Avenue.  Almost home!  Thank God.  I really got excited when we drove around Chevy Chase Circle.  Then Home at Last!

* * * * *

Greta was at the door when the limo stopped at the front of the house.  She ran down the steps and gave me a huge hug and a big kiss.  I love my little sister with all my heart; although she is legally deaf, she is fully functioning.  She lives in the “in-law” cottage adjacent to the main house and has her own entrance on Bradley Lane.  She takes care of the house, does my grocery shopping and cooking for me when I’m home, as well as volunteering at the Center for the Hearing Impaired in Washington, taking a bus or cab when and where she needs to.

Greta developed an ear infection when a small baby which left her deaf.  Fortunately, the foremost school for the deaf is in Washington.  Our mom would drive her to and from school daily.  When she was in high school at Kendall School, I would drive her to Deaf Club functions.  Because her boyfriend, Robbie, was on the Gallaudet University wrestling squad, I would take her to his matches, and he would bring her to some of mine.   Occasionally Robbie would visit us and we would work-out together on the mats in our basement while Greta watched.  She loved watching her brother and boyfriend wrestling around together.

At times, she would invite the entire wrestling squad and their girlfriends over for a party.  The girls would be upstairs doing their girl things and the guys downstairs wrestling.  Those times are when the squad could just wrestle and forget about coaches critiquing every move they made.  Those were times when the squad could get away with illegal grabs and enjoy being themselves.  Of course, I was in there with them, and loving every minute of it. 

Greta and Robbie still see each other and might get married someday.  If they do, they’re welcome to the ‘big house’ and I can take the apartment.  Or if some of the plans I’ve been working on come to fruition, I’ll build a place somewhere out of the D.C. area.

* * * * *  

The limo driver helped put our luggage on the porch, I gave him a fifty-dollar tip, so he might remember if I needed a limo again.

Standing there on the porch, I introduced each of the guys to Greta, both orally – so they would know what I was saying – and in ASL (American Sign Language), spelling each name and giving Greta the opportunity to select an appropriate sign for their name.

“Greta, this is my very good friend and cameraman, Majid (M-A-J-I-D).  He may be working here with me.  Yes, he is very muscular, so the letter M on the bicep is a good sign for a muscleman.

“This is his cousin, Dildar (D-I-L-D-A-R).  Yes, the letter D circling the face does say he is pretty – handsome and charming.

“And this is Dildar’s best friend, Hassan (H-A-S-S-A-N).  Okay, the letter H across the bicep because he is a muscleman too.”

The guys were almost in hysterics by the time everyone got their name-signs.

Hassan asked, “What is your name-sign? The letter ‘G’ with both hands on both biceps, Mr. Muscleman?”

“No, my sign is the letter G from the heart moving away from the body for ‘Grant,’ symbolizing ‘giving’ or ‘granting.’”

The guys practiced all the names and had fun with it.  I explained briefly that signs for men usually are given toward the top of the head and signs for women are given near the jaw.  Greta hit me hard on the arm because she knew what I was going to say next. 

“That’s because men use their brains and women use their mouths.”

The guys bent double laughing while Greta beat up on me.  I put my arm around her and gave her a big kiss on the forehead.

We took the things in and I showed the guys upstairs and gave them their choice of rooms.  There are five bedrooms upstairs, each with a shared bath except for the master suite which has its own. 

“Maji, you have your choice of a room of your own or share mine.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied with a smirk.

Everybody got settled in as Greta put chicken, egg, potato, and macaroni salads, some other cold veggies, rolls, and cookies, along with a big pitcher of ‘Arnold Palmers’, ready for ice or being heated on the dining room sideboard for us.  We grabbed plates, filled them and settled in at one end of the table.  Greta is the perfect hostess, just as our mother was. 

Although we slept several hours on the flight over the Atlantic, we were still tired when we got home.  The guys helped take the food and things back into the kitchen where we got the leftovers in the fridge, dishes in the dishwasher and it started.  Greta said good night and went to her cottage.  The guys and I looked around the main floor a bit, then went up to bed. 

When Maji and I got in bed, he asked me, “What’s between you and Jim Guthrie?  You two have a special feeling for each other, I can tell.”

Well, that took me by surprise.  “Nothing, really.  It’s just a connection of having gone to rival high schools, being on the wrestling squad at the same university at different times, both into pumping iron, and both gay.  There is nothing more, I promise.  It’s absolutely nothing like the connection you and I have.  And we have the rings and a unique experience to verify that.” 

I moved closer to him, pulled him to me into a passionate kiss.  With my arm around Maji and my leg over his, I got as close to him as I could, and he responded by poking me in my abdomen with a growing expression of his pleasure.  As we came up for air, I whispered to him that we both might be intimate with other men, or even women, but for me, he would be my eternal love.  And as reassurance, I wanted him to take me here and now, as never before.  I wanted to fully submit to him as my husband, now and forever. 

We were both in tears as he worked his way down my body, covering every part of me with kisses.  When he reached my joy-stick, he enveloped me all the way.  I gasped as he rolled his tongue up and down my shaft while his mouth remained filled with my length and girth.  Then he rolled his tongue up to the cap and as he slid his tongue down, he pulled his mouth off slowly; then his tongue rolled up to the head again and slid toward the base again as his mouth moved upward a little more; and the third time, I felt my balls churning and I was beyond control.

“Can’t hold any longer.  Here – I – cum!”

I grabbed his head and shot my full load down his throat.  He slid back up in our bed, leaned in for a kiss and returned nearly all the baby-makers I had deposited with him.  We lay there, basking in the glow for maybe half an hour when he asked, “Are you ready for the Iraqi invasion?”

“I’m always ready, willing and able.  With a little help from some lube, that is.”  I reached into the bedside stand and got the tube, worked some lube into the receptacle and gave him some for his battering ram.  “Easy does it, Goliath!”

Maji leaned down and kissed me as he slowly worked his way past the initial obstacle.  As he got a bit farther in, he forced his tongue between my lips, taking my attention away from what was going on farther down.  He slid past all resistance and paused while he invaded my mouth to the north.  After a short pause, he proceeded all the way to the hilt for the southern invasion, where he paused again.

Again, I shed tears of joy as our tongues played ‘you’re it’ tag.   “I love you, Maji, more than you’ll ever know. And I’ll love you for as long as we both shall live.  You are the one and only man I need in my life.”

Maji began the pumping, full length to just inside the ‘O-ring’ and back the full length.  The sensation as he rubbed my nut was inexplicable.  I gasped every time he made contact.  As he pumped faster, I started to hyperventilate.  He pumped harder and faster as I shot a second load all over my face, chest and stomach.  Then he plunged all the way in and I felt myself filling up inside.  He must have gone into overload. 

I probably passed out because the next I remembered, he had crawled on top of me and licked up the cum off my body and was forcing it in my mouth.  I grabbed him in a bear-hug and tongued my own cum back into his mouth. 

We lay there for a long time before he rolled off to my side and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Meanwhile . . .

In the bedroom that had been mine when our parents were alive, Dildar was having a difficult time getting to sleep.  He tossed.  He turned.  He wiggled.  He just couldn’t sleep.  He was nervous about this new situation.  It was the first time he had been away from home, and he may have been somewhat scared.  What was going to happen to him?  He missed his family.  Majid and Hassan were with him but his mother, dad, sisters, neighbors, friends were thousands of miles away.  Would he ever get to see them again?  Was this his punishment for having feelings for Hassan?  For wanting to hug him and even kiss him?  For wanting to have sex with him?  Even thinking about it was a sin back home.  He would be flogged, maybe even stoned for these desires.  But he still missed his family and friends.

The light in the bathroom went on.

“Hassan?”

“Yes, Dil.  I have to piss.”

Dildar got up and walked to the bathroom, opening the door.  Hassan was standing at the toilet, in all his glory with his big, long, thick cock spouting a stream of piss.  Dildar stood transfixed at the sight.  Hassan finished, shaking off the last few drops, then turned and looked directly at Dildar.

“What?”

“You’re so big!”

“You’re not tiny either, little brother.”

“You think of me as your brother?”

“I don’t have any other brother.  You’ve always been my little buddy and like a brother to me.  I’ve always tried to protect you, and care for you like a little brother.”

Hassan walked over to Dildar and took him in his arms.  Their very adequate masculinity rubbed against each other and reacted to the other’s touch.

Dildar put his head on Hassan’s shoulder and tears ran down the bigger man’s chest.  Hassan hugged his “little buddy” even tighter.

“Come on and get in bed with me.  I’ll hold you for a while.”

“I not wearing any night clothes,” Dildar objected.

“You notice I don’t either?  Who’s going to tell us we have to wear night clothes here in America?  I always sleep without night clothes, and since you do too, who cares now that we’re here.  And you should have heard what I did earlier.  Come, get in bed with me and I’ll tell you what I heard.”

They got in Hassan’s bed together, face to face and ‘eye to eye.’    Hassan proceeded to relate what he had heard coming from Grant and Majid’s bedroom.  Dildar lay there, mouth agape. 

“You’re lying! Just to make me feel better!  I don’t believe a word of it!” Dildar protested.

“Every word is true.  I am sure that Majid and Grant are lovers.  The way they treat each other, even in public.  So, if Majid and Grant can be lovers, we can be lovers too – if you want to,” Hassan whispered.

“I have always wanted to be lovers with you.  But we could be stoned or flogged to death.”

“Not in America.”  Hassan leaned and kissed his lover full on the lips.  Dildar returned the kiss firmly.  Hassan forced his tongue between Dildar’s sensuous lips and Dildar sucked on the tongue, then forced his own tongue into Hassan’s waiting orifice. 

Hassan broke the kiss and worked his way down his lover’s neck and chest until he got to Dildar’s fully erect nipples.  He paused awhile and licked and nipped both brown protrusions, giving the young man feelings he never knew he could have. 

Dildar moaned with pleasure.  He had no idea what was yet to come.

Hassan continued his ministrations on down Dildar’s happy trail, to the waiting pubic area, where he licked around the base of the younger man’s joy stick, which was extended to its full eight inches, with a slight curve upward.  Hassan’s tongue worked its way out the full length and flipped the tip with his tongue several times, making it bob up-and-down.  Dildar gasped as he sensed unexpected feelings from the attention Hassan was giving him.

Hassan took the head of Dildar’s pleasure pole in his mouth and slowly worked his way down toward the base.  He needed to make several attempts in his journey to his bushy goal because of the size and curve.  But with every attempt, he adjusted his head to accept more of the protrusion down his throat.   Dildar was gasping and moaning and crying with joy at the feelings he was receiving from the love of his life. 

When Hassan was able to reach the base of the pole, he paused and rubbed his tongue back and forth against the fully engorged cock. 

“I can’t hold it!  I’m cumming!!” Dildar whispered loudly.

Hassan pulled back until just the head was in his mouth and took the voluminous amount of his love-buddy’s offering, moaning as he sucked the full load.  Then he turned and shared it with his lover.

“Dil, I love you and I want us to be together forever,” Hassan whispered.

“Hassan, I love you, too, and I always have.  Keep me with you and I’ll be your loyal servant,” Dildar replied.

“Dil, I don’t want you to be my servant; I want you to be my lover and mate,” Hassan replied.

“Always!” the two young lovers said together.

Dildar turned over and Hassan put his arm around the young stud, and they slept soundly, cuddled together.

To be continued... 

Posted: 09/14/18