Asylum

It began. Innocently. An email from the Town asking if there were any homes willing to take in young – 20s – refugees who have found asylum in the United States – from Afghanistan. Especially single men. Good English.

My wife and I talked about it. We have a spare bedroom now that the kids were gone. While she still travelled for work, I did not, so there was always going to be one of us at home. Why not. And hadn’t we supported the Afghan War way back when? Didn’t we owe something to the young people who had been and would be fleeing for safety when the Taliban came back? We did.

We wanted to help. It would only before a few weeks of months until they got settled.

We applied.

We were interviewed.

We were accepted in the program.

We were to wait to get “candidates”.

We did. I thought I wanted a woman. Remember that incredibly beautiful Afghan girl who had been on a cover of the National Geographic? I wanted some like that. The wife vetoed any women. Not that I had every been unfaithful. Just because it would not look good. And I agreed it would not.

A young make. Professional. That would be OK. I had no choice. I agreed. We waited.

Then the email with attached photo and bio. Ahmed. 25. Dark hair. Handsome. Did, I say handsome? Some thing stirred in me. Ahmed? Yes. He had been a translator for the Marines. Did I say handsome? That stirring. It was not concern that the wife would be attracted. How sworn off sex she was. No. Not a worry there. The stirring. She did not know. Did not know my more than academic interest in men. She did not know that I had discovered – and that was ten years ago – that what I wanted was sex with men. Despite being married. Despite two kids. I had found out I was gay. Fuck. Homosexual.

And I had not left it theoretical.

And Ahmed. Did he have that look in his eye? I hoped so. And he had spent a lot of time with American men… true, soldiers, but… men… I had to give up that thought.

We waited. He came.

More handsome in the flesh – well dressed. Two suitcases. Polite. Happy ot be with us. We were happy he was here. We worked through the process of getting to know each other.

It was easier than I thought. Perhaps it was the time spent with American soldiers, male and female. And certainly, it was because his English was so very good. Though he had an easier time talking with me, than with the wife. But then free interaction with women is not easy for many Muslim men. And I respected that. It was no so easy for me. It never had been. I was surprised I got married, and not because I was gay, just because I did not have the right social skills, like Ahmed. But we got along. I liked that. So did he.

He arrived in June, so we had the summer to enjoy. Unlike the wife, I was retired. So, I had the free time. And Ahmed was free while we worked together to find him work. The good news was that he could work. The State Department had made that possible. But I did not want him taking some crap job. It ought to be something better fitted to what we could do. And we had pledged to support him. I was happy to do that. Even if all we had was a “correct” relationship.

But it became clear to me, very early, that “correct” was not what I wanted. But I would have to see. And what did Ahmed want? Safety, a future, of course. We all want that. I would have to get to know him. Get him to talk. Just wait and see.

Wait and see. And help him get a job so he could get on his feet, start a new life in America. Be independent.

I was happy to help.

So, two concurrent activities: sending our resumes and job interviews, and spending time together so Ahmed could get to know the area.

O.K. I am 62. 5’ 10” 180 – O.K. not an Adonis. But not a troll. Ahmed. 25. 5’9” Around 150. Trim beard. In shorts – a hot ass. The first time we went swimming – I saw – not hairy, toned (as I learned – from being with a Marine company as a translator), with what was an enticing bulge in his swimming trunks. Having spent so much time with Americans, he was comfortable here, and not shy. Maybe the time with all those Marines had really loosened him up, Americanized him. As I learned it had also freed him from the tight embrace of a culture hostile to homosexuality.

So how had that topic come up?

I had retired at 60 because I had made a good living. Good enough to make work optional. Good enough to afford a nice house on five acres of land in Eastern Connecticut. Good enough to have a pool. Private enough to be swim suit optional.

Ahmed and I were home with no wife. She still liked to work. It was a work day for here at the library. Ahmed had no interviews. We did not have to be one the road.

It was the first day like this since he had gotten here that was also warm, and sunny, so we could use the pool. If it had been me alone, I would have been nude, starting an overall tan I like to get. Had the wife been home? She did not approve of nudity. We were never nude together anymore. Even slept in separate bedrooms. We had not had sex in a long time. My porn watching had, over the years, shifted from hetero- to bi-sexual… now gay only. I loved it. Cocks fascinated me now, and asses, and being fucked and fisted. And I had had enough real-time experience to know that I wanted sex with men now. The problem was how to get it in rural Eastern Connecticut.

She was off to work at 11 and not back until 4. We had the house to ourselves. I suggested we take advantage of the day. Sit around the pool. Have lunch outdoors. Enjoy some beer. Grab some rays. I told Ahmed my plans. Be pool side at 11:15. I would back from the errands I had to run – groceries, package store, post office, hardware store. Since she worked, I did the errands. No problem. I set out at 9:30 – a quick, perfunctory kiss. A quick, “Have a nice day. Happy shopping,” from her. From me, “Enjoy work, let me know if you will be running late or home early so, I can have supper ready.” I made the meals. From her, “I hope Ahmed is OK. He deserves a quiet day.” “He does.” “Bye. “Bye.” I was off. I looked forward to pool time.

I was home at 11:15. Her car was gone. I set down the groceries, the mail, the stiff from the hardware store. I would check on Ahmed. I had some frozen stuff, so I knew I would have to come back in to put it away. And to change for the pool. I took of my shirt. Took two beers from the fridge and stepped out on the deck of the pool. He was there. I was in for a surprise. He was nude.

He was face down on one of our chaises. Hot, Hot, Hot. Nude. But I have written that. He made no effort to cover himself when I said, “Hey, Ahmed.”

“Hi, Bob.”

I brought over the beers. Sat on the chaise next to him. He looked up at me, then turned over. He took the beer. My eyes had a feast. Maybe my hand shook a bit as I clinked my bottle with his.

“Oh,” he said. “I learned about nude sunbathing with some of my Marine buddies. The only way to go.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“Get naked, Bob.”

“First let me put away the groceries. When I come out, I’ll bring more beer and some snacks. Back in a few.”

I got up. Fuck, my cock liked what I saw. I like what I saw. I went in. How to prepare? I had gone through this in my mind as I walked back in.

Put the groceries away. Put some ice in the small cooler. Put some beer in the cooler. Get the snacks ready – salty. Then --- clean out your ass. Just in case. Why not. Be clean. And get the lube out, and the poppers. Put them in a discrete carrying case – with the sunscreen. Put a condom or two in the bag.

Groceries away, beer and snacks in hand. Ass clean. Out to the pool. Nude. Carrying my towel and suit. I knew I would need the towel. Maybe the suit. And extra towels. Always good to have extra. To lie on. There were pillows on the chaises.

“Hey, Bob. That took a bit.”

“A lot to put away and get ready.”

He was on his front again. That ass. So hot.

He rolled over while I was just sitting down. His cock was hard. Incredible. Thick. 6”. Hard.

“Yes. Glad you are here.”

Did he see my reaction? My cock? “Yes. Glad you are here.”

“Comfortable being nude?”

“Yes.”

With me?”

“Yes.”

“You can see how I feel about it.”

“Yes.”

“I see you may be feeling the same.”

I must have been blushing. My cock was rising. All I could say is, “Yes.”

Then, “Let’s talk.”

Ahmed said, “Yes,” and then leaned forward to take me cock in his mouth. I felt a sudden rush. He broke off before it was too late to stop my orgasm.

“Bob. I think you soon realized I might be gay. Well, I am. And I sensed, even though you are married, that you were interested. Was I right?”

“Yes.”

He straddled the chaise he was sitting on.

“Bob, sit in front of me, so we can see each other.”

I did.

We took our beers. Finished them. Then grabbed for two more. Our cocks were straining. Then, Ahmed took mine in his hands. I took his in mine. It was an electric moment.

“Bob, I realized I was gay when I made the connection with the Marines. Two of them, Kevin and Frank, well they were the ones who brought me out. They taught me how to make love to men. To suck cock. To fuck. To fist. We are three together. They were the intelligence officers so sharing a billet was not hard. We were in separable. How many times I bred their man pussies as they called them. How often they sucked my cock and together we snowballed my loads. Then they got called back. My sexuality had to go underground. Now I am here. Here. With you. A beautiful older man who so reminds me of Kevin, a bit older than he was, but you are so desirable. I waned you from the moment arrived. I had hoped that even though I was coming to a host family, that the man would, at least, be bi.”

As he reached that point, I leaned forward to kiss him. I thrust my tongue into his mouth. He responded. WE started to make out like two teens, going side-by-side. Mouths and tongues busy. Hands busy. His body was so delicious. I broke off to kiss and suck his nipples, to lick the sweat off his chest. I wanted this man. He wanted me.

“Oh, Ahmed…”

“Yes, Bob.”

We broke apart to catch our breath, to drink more beer. Our hands touched. That electricity. This was real.

“Ahmed. Should we talk? Do we want this? Are you doing it because we are helping you? You are so handsome? I… I …” The words just tumbled out.

“Yes, talk. Yes, we want this. No, not because you are helping me, but of course you are. You are handsome too. Yes. Let’s. Just let go. Now. Under the sun. Now.”

“Bob, kneel for me in the chaise.”

I did. He stood behind me. He looked in the bag I had brought. Saw the lube. Saw in the poppers. He gave me the poppers. He knelt down. Began to caress me ass, taking each cheek into his strong hands. He parted them to get to my hole.

“Nice.”

He started to rim my hole. His tongue circling it, probing it. It felt so good. He was the first person ever to do that. So forbidden, so right.

“Yes, Ahmed.”

He pulled away. I looked back to see him lube his cock. He put more lube on his fingers and started to probe my hole, probe like a man probed a pussy. Yes, this is my pussy. Yes, I am going to be fucked by this man. This man. Ahmed.

“I am going to fuck you, Bob.”

“Please.”

“I am going to fuck you raw. No condom. You know that. I saw them in the bag. But no condom for me. The boys taught me to fuck raw. They wanted to breed them. I will breed you.”

“Yes. Breed me. I want your cum in me.”

“No questions asked?”

“Ahmed, no questions asked.”

And so I felt his cock head start pushing on my hole, steady pressure, loving pressure. Then. In. Balls deep. He stopped. Then slow thrusting. In me. Yes. Fucking me. I took the poppers. I wanted that extra rush. I opened the cap. The open bottle to each nostril. Huff. Hold. Fuck, his fucking me. The poppers expanding my mind, loosening my hole.

“Bob, I could feel your cunt opening for me. Sweet. It is my cunt now. You are my bitch now. Bob.”

“Yes. Your bitch. Breed me.”

He did. Our bodies were glistening with sweat, dripping. He turned my on my back.

“I want to look in your eyes when I cum in you.”

He fucked me. More lube. More poppers for me. He took the bottle. Poppers for him. We started to fuck like wild men. His cock seemed to go deeper in me. Then. Then his lips on mine. His tongue fucking me mouth as his cock fucked my ass. Then the shudder as he started to cum in me. Fuck. Cumming in me. Finally, the last shudder. The last thrust. He lay on me. We kissed. Our bodies wet. Finally his cock started to go soft, fell out of my cunt. He got up to capture the cum and ass juices, coming back to me so we could kiss and snowball. Then, then…

“I think I love you Ahmed.”

“Bob, I have strong feelings for you.”

We kissed, Our bodies wet.

“Time for lunch.”

We stayed nude.

This was just the beginning.

PART TWO

Funny to be eating lunch together, at the table, under the umbrella, by the pool. Nude. Funny that for so long I had wanted to do just this with my wife. Only a dream. Even after she had lost interest in sex, I did want to be nude with her, and just maybe, just maybe. But that did not happen. This did. Ahmed and me. He had fucked me. Made love. Two men. In the afterglow of sex. Beer, lunch, nude. And we had a few more hours free. And how man hours more? We his sponsors. He would settle in, but not here, but on his own, some place else in the United States. And then, make a life for himself. Mine would go on here. But I did not want to think about that. I knew I had to start thinking in hours available, in time stolen for love making, touching…

We drank, We ate. We talked. We told each other more about our lives, where we cam from, what we had dreamt and still dreamed of, of our desires in this moment. He was hard. I was hard. My hole still dripped. Good. I when I got up I saw the puddle of cum and ass juices I had felt sitting down. I wiped them up with my hand, put the hand to my mouth. Ahmed saw what I was doing.

“Please share them with me.”

I walked over to him. I brought the hand so we could both lick it. We did. Then we kissed. Me standing. Him sitting. We broke the kiss and Ahmed took my cock in his mouth. His tongue circled me cock head. I was swooning it felt so good. His hands were on my ass, a finger started to probe my hole. He took over my cock. Taking me deep, then just playing with my cock head with his lips and tongue. I had never gotten blown like this. This was so good, almost too intense.

“I want you load, Bob.”

“You are going to get it.

As he sucked my cock, he added fingers to my hole. He had three in me. I could feel him working to add a fourth. He broke off sucking me. Got up to get the lube. Got back on my cock.

“Damn that is good, Ahmed”

As he took care of my cock, somehow knowing how the edge me, he worked my hole. The three fingers, not the fourth. Damn that was good. I felt the stretch. The poppers were at hand. I took them, uncapped them, took two big huffs, I felt the effect in my hole. The fourth was working its way in. Dam I wanted it. I felt myself pushing back, working with Ahmed’s hand. I wanted him to fuck my hole, fuck me hole so open, with his hand. He broke off my cock.

“You like my fingers in your pussy?”

“I do. I do.”

“More?”

“Yes.”

“My whole hand, my fist?”

“Yes.”

“Ever take a fist?”

“No.”

“Want it?”

“Yes. Yours.”

“You are my bitch. More than giving me your load?

“No, both.”

“If only one?”

“Your fist. Take my hole. I am your bitch.”

“The back to the chaise. On your knees. Damn, you know I want you hole.”

I mounted the chaise. I had seen fisting videos. I was so hungry to feel it, make it happen. I displayed my hole like a pig in heat. I was a pig in heat. I had brought the poppers over. While Ahmed began to lube his hands, fuck, he put his cock in my pussy. Damn. He fucked while lubing his hands. He pulled out, then used his cock to lube my hole. I was in lust. And I began to inhale poppers. To get fucked up. To get ready.

“Do those poppers, Bob. And get ready.”

He pulled out his cock. He began more direct lubing of my hole. Then I felt a cone of four fingers begin to work me open.”

“Yes. Ahmed. Yes.”

“Yes. Bob. Bitch. Baby. Your hole feels so good to me. So good. This is so right. Thank you.”

“It is.”

“I will fist you, love.”

“Please.”

“Now, more poppers. One day soon you will try it using a gas mask for hands-free, intense enjoyment.”

“Yes.”

“And maybe more. There was more in Afghanistan. More. That made this sex so amazing.”

“Yes.”

All the while his hands was working me open, working my hole, making my ass lips puff, and the poppers were working, yes working, yes I felt my hole relax, I saw that pulsing red spot in my mind’s eye, was it my hole? It so seemed like it. This was so good, so real. Here. Poolside. Would we hear if someone came? Did I care? I was overcome with list. With his hand working my ass. His other hand roaming my back, on my cock, his leaning forward and pulling back my head to kiss.

“Bob, you are so ready for this, so ready, I have never felt a hole like yours be so welcoming, eager for my fist. I will not stop until I am in you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Even if I hear someone coming. Never will I stop. I am falling in lust, in love with you. My bitch. Take me.”

“Yes, fist me.”

“I will. Poppers. More. Get crazy. You have enough. Let me wet this towel.”

He did. He handed it to me.

“Breathe.”

I did. Another wave washed over me. Crazy with poppers. I pushed back. I felt myself joining in the fist fucking. Want more, more, wanting it in me. Deep. Fully. Wanting to feel my cunt close on his wrist. Suddenly. In. Suddenly. My hole closed on his wrist. He stopped. Leaned forward. We kissed.

“In.”

“Yes. Now fisting.”

“Please.”

Was there some pain? Yes. But more a kind of crazy ecstasy. I was impaled on another man’s fist. No woman would do this. But this god-like man was doing it. The man who had just fucked me. Bred me. His seed was in me. We were here. By my pool. Open to the sun. Open to the gaze of anyone who came without announcement. What would they see. Two men. Nude. One fisting the other. Yes. Ahmed. Me. Us. I like that. Yes.

“You like it Bob?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Let me see if you like it when I rotate my hand in your ass.”

He did.

“Incredible”

One way. The other. Then in. Then out. Then thrusting almost out. Then in. His hand always clenched.

“You love this don’t you, bitch?”

“I do.”

“My two Marines did. I will get you to being punch fucked. Taking both my fists. Being my total bitch bottom. They were. I loved them. Damn Taliban. Both dead. You are my live lover, bitch, pig.”

“Yes. Yours.”

What else could at that moment with his fist in my ass? What else would I want to be?

How long was in my hole? I had not looked at the clock when e starting to play after lunch. But it was pushing 3.

“Time to stop, Ahmed. We have to clean up. “

“Not time to be caught. I agree. One day. You will want it.”

“I know.”

He pulled his clenched fist from my hole. So loose. Before be broke he fucked me again. Then gave me his cock to clean off in my mouth. Then we kissed.

We went in. Showered together in the poolside shower.

“Ahmed. I am amazed.”

“At what?”

“At what we did.”

“It was so good. I hoped this would happen right when I met you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, me too.”

He kissed me. We got dressed. Tidied up the pool. The kitchen. Managed to get some things done outside to look like we had not just been lazing all day. I got things out for supper. Ahmed helped. We wanted to be nude. We weren’t. Dressed in shorts and tee shirts.

We had just kissed again when I heard a car on the driveway. She was home. We separated. He went to his room. I bustled about the kitchen. Got a bottle of cold white wine out – her favorite. She came in.

“Hi, honey.”

“Good day at work?”

“Yes. Here?”

“Yes. Quiet. Some yard work, lunch by the pool. Getting ready for supper now. Burgers, O.K.?”

“Sounds good. Wish I had been here. What a day to be by the pool. Tomorrow looks good for that,”

“Wish you had been.” I did not. Not all. I wish she would be away tomorrow, and maybe the tomorrow after that. I wanted to be with Ahmed. Go places with him. Be with him. I sensed he wanted the same thing. We would see. We would take advantage of what we could.

Ahmed walked in. Smiled at me. Then at her.

“Hello. Hope you had a good day.”

“I did. Hope yours was good.”

“It was. What a day to celebrate being here with you in Connecticut. Great talk. But now you are home.”