Political Prisoner

My name is Jonathan. I am a 35-year old free-lance writer. I have dual citizenship, Brazilian and American. I specialize in reporting from foreign countries, and contribute my articles both to magazines and newspapers. And by the way, I’m gay.

Having two passports comes in handy, especially when I visit a country that is anti-American. Then I use my Brazilian passport, as on this occasion, when I entered a totalitarian middle-east country. I am an adventurous person by nature, so I looked forward to my assignment. My article was to be about daily life for the ordinary citizen. Fortunately I speak a smattering of French, in addition to English and Portuguese.

What I didn’t realize is one cannot simply interview ordinary citizens without special government permission, which I didn’t obtain. I hired a local guide, and set out to do my assignment. But my guide squealed to the authorities and I was arrested.

Instead of being thrown into some dingy cell without a window, with a dozen other guys, I was given a decent-size room with a large window. I suppose that meant that the crime I committed was not considered serious. The window had no bars. But it was on the 5th floor, so escaping would have been nearly impossible. The room was equipped with a small bed, a chair, a small table, and a commode and sink, but no shower. The door to the room was locked, but had an opening at eye level, with a small wooden door, through which I was served my food. I could open the small door at will and look outside into the corridor.

And I did so often. I soon discovered that a handsome young guard patrolled my corridor. He looked to be about 21, and wore a sexy uniform, which he filled out beautifully.  He spoke some English, and was happy to get the chance to practice the language. He said his name was Mohammed. He explained that all of the guards in the prison are required to study English. We chatted about many things, but mostly he asked questions about the outside world, closed off to the citizens of his country. He was particularly interested in learning about the United States.

And I was happy to oblige, while usually ogling his crotch, which showed signs of housing a big tool. He noticed me looking at that area, but didn’t react negatively. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy the attention. Living in an Islamic culture, I was sure he didn’t have much sex–at least with women, who are completely veiled. Maybe with men, he could, and did, although that too is prohibited. He told me that he had the liberty to enter my room, and that if I wanted, he could come inside to talk to me while on his break. How could I refuse an offer like that?

So the next day he knocked on my door, with a thermos and two cups, to serve very strong coffee. Now he was alone with me! I sat on my bed, and he used my chair. We chatted as usual, all the while my eyes were glued to his basket. He must have guessed what I was up to, so he began to grope himself. He soon got hard. I decided to throw caution to the winds and told him he had a big cock. With that he opened his fly and took out a monster, all the while studying my reaction. I used international sign language to lick my lips and stick out my tongue.

He motioned for me to come closer to him. I dropped to my knees and began to worship his treasure I wondered if I could swallow it all. I put my hand around the big circumference, but soon engulfed him to his pubes. He moaned with pleasure. As I increased my rhythm, he put his hands on my head to push me down on his dick. We were both in heaven. He came quickly, shooting several spurts down my throat, as does everyone I suck off, because I have dentures. I’ve been told many times that my mouth is better than a pussy. He asked if he could come back the next day. I enthusiastically nodded my head yes.

The next day was a repeat of the first. Then he surprised me by saying that he had told another guard about me, and the guy was anxious to experience my mouth too. I asked if his buddy would come alone, but he said that he wanted to be in my room too, and get his share of my technique. There is nothing I love better than sucking off two dicks at the same time, so I could hardly sleep that night.

Sure enough, at the same time the next day, he showed up with his friend, whom he introduced as Ebrahim. The guy was equally handsome and muscular, also about 21. “They must put these guards through some heavy calisthenics,” I thought. I asked them both to sit on my bed, and pull their uniform trousers down to their ankles. They gladly complied. Mohammed’s buddy was equally well-endowed. Then I alternated between one and the other, with each watching the other get serviced. They came soon. Too bad my mouth isn’t big enough to swallow two big dicks at the same time. Ebrahim thanked me for the favor. Obviously he needed the relief.

A couple of days later I asked Mohammad how long they were going to keep me confined, and he replied that he would ask his supervisor. The next day a man I didn’t recognize knocked on my door. He told me has name was Mazdan, and asked if he could in. He unlocked my door and stepped in. He was about 30, and wore a wedding band. So I ruled him out as a conquest. I queried Mazdan about how long they were going to hold me. He replied that I would soon be released, as they had contacted the Brazilian Consulate, who would get me out.

But obviously Mazdan had been told about my secret, as he began to rub his crotch. Then I knew that he wanted it too. And I obliged, but unfortunately his cock was smaller, so less enjoyable.  Later that day the rep from the Brazilian Consulate came, and I was a free man again.

I wasted no time leaving the country, but part of me wished that I could have stayed in that room longer.