Sin in Algiers

by Roland Graeme

  He drove harder and harder, his strokes become less controlled, until suddenly he lunged deep—and he began to unload. The violence of his ejaculation shook the bed. A moment later, Maleka came with him, clinging to him and clawing his back and his buttocks to keep the momentum going for as long as possible.

  Nigel rested on top of her for a moment before he pulled out of her cunt. Leaning toward him, Pascal ran his hand up and down the smoothness of Nigel’s body, wiping the sweat from him.

  “Was that good?” Pascal asked, hoarsely.

  Nigel managed to chuckle, despite his breathlessness. “Need you ask?”

  “I suppose the question was superfluous,” Pascal admitted, with a chuckle. “I am extremely aroused—as you can see. May I ask you to assist me in satisfying myself?” he asked, with a politeness which struck Nigel as somewhat incongruous, given the circumstances.

  “Tell me what I can do for you,” Nigel said.

  “I want your ass.”

  “You mean—you wish to sodomize me?”

  “To bugger you, yes.”

  “In front of the lady?”

  “It’s not the first time Maleka and I have shared a bed with another man, and the three of us have enjoyed ourselves in various combinations,” Pascal explained.

  “It seems rather indecent,” Nigel protested—feebly. “However, having gone so far, I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to begin having scruples now. Go ahead. Have me.”

  Eagerly, Pascal maneuvered their bodies into the position he wanted. Kneeling, he raised Nigel’s legs from the mattress and flung them over his broad shoulders. Nigel’s behind was thrust high into the air. Pascal’s hands gripped the Englishman’s hips and drew Nigel’s buttocks toward his groin.

  “You’ve very large,” Nigel pointed out, when he felt the Frenchman’s cockhead jab against his ass cheeks. “Grease it up first, please.”

  “Of course—”

  But, even as Pascal spoke, Maleka handed him a porcelain containing an ointment. Pascal slathered the substance all over his formidable erection.

  Pascal’s now-slippery glans probed between Nigel’s buttocks and rubbed restlessly against the puckered rim of his sphincter. Pascal pushed forward, and his cock entered the other man. The thick, inflexible member rammed deep into Nigel’s ass—and it remained there, trapped by the strong anal muscles which involuntarily clamped down all around its bulk.

  “Ah!” Nigel cried.

  “Am I hurting you?” Pascal asked.

  “A little, but never mind. Don’t stop. Not now! Fuck me, Pascal. Fuck me!”

  “You like it, do you? You like the way this feels?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you like it a lot? I flatter myself that you do,” Pascal gloated.

  “Oh, you have no idea!”

  “Would you like more?”

  “Is there any more?” Nigel asked, naïvely. “Are you telling me it could feel any better than it already does?”

  “Try this.” Pascal began to thrust himself roughly in and out of Nigel’s hole, not sparing him.

  “Oh, it’s incredible,” Nigel moaned, writhing under the other man. “You’re driving me mad!”

  “And you have such a sweet ass. Now that I’ve gotten you warmed up, I am going to really fuck you, barracks style,” the soldier announced.

  “Barracks style?” Nigel echoed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means making the most of what is usually a very narrow bunk. Like this.”

  As he spoke, Pascal rolled onto his side, still locked inside Nigel’s ass, and he reached around for the Englishman’s cock. It was throbbing fiercely as Pascal made a fist around it and began to jerk Nigel off in the same rhythm which his own prick was making as it stroked in and out of Nigel’s butt.

  Nigel heard shrill squeals of delight coming from Maleka. He realized that she was frigging herself while, with bright, intense eyes, she watched the two men engaged in their lewd act of anal intercourse.

  “Ah, God,” Nigel gasped, spasming from head to foot against the other man’s body. “I am going to spend! To shoot!”

  “Do so, my boy,” Pascal encouraged him, hoarsely. “Don’t hold back. Spray your fucking load all over us. I’m there, too. I’m going to come in your hot ass!”

  His hand pounded on Nigel’s prick as his own cock drove deeper and deeper. Suddenly, Nigel moaned, and Pascal felt warm squirts of semen splashing down over his busy fingers. He pumped faster with both his cock and his fist, and in another moment he too was coming. He bit hard into Nigel’s shoulder to keep himself from howling in triumph as his cock fired off volley after volley of its thick hot juice.

  “Oh, I can feel it,” Nigel moaned. “I can feel you going off inside me, filling me. It’s so hot—so wet! And there is so much of it! Yes, go on fucking me. Fill my asshole with your seed.”

  For several minutes afterward, they lay on their sides without moving. Pascal’s cock was still firmly lodged in Nigel’s ass, and his hand was still wrapped around Nigel’s semen-slimed prick, stroking it with a strange, delicate gentleness.

  “Get it hard again,” the Frenchman urged. “We are not done yet. Maleka and I, between the two of us—we have still further pleasures to show you.”

  Chapter Twelve: Recreation during Daylight Hours

  “Bernard?” Nigel addressed his valet, the following morning.

  “Sir?”

  “I feel a need to speak to you, quite seriously—and quite frankly.”

  “I am listening, sir.”

  “Since we have come here to Algeria, as you have no doubt observed—I have indulged myself in carnal relations, not only with women, but with at least two men. Namely, Tarik and Lieutenant Daumier.”

  “You have amused yourself, sir. Why shouldn’t you?”

  “Well, for one thing, my mother sent me here to do researches and to obtain material for her book—not to indulge in selfish, frivolous pleasures. And, for another … some people would condemn these relationships as infamous.”

  “I fail to see the infamy, sir. You are young. You are unmarried. You are answerable to no one. Why should you not enjoy yourself?”

  “Your attitude is admirably liberal, Bernard.”

  “I am here to serve you, sir. And that includes—turning a blind eye to your adventures, and shielding you from the prying eyes of others, who have no right or need to know your secrets.”

  “Admirable, Bernard. I am most grateful to you, for your loyalty. It hasn’t escaped my notice, though, that you are—ah, somewhat sexually versatile, yourself.”

  “Any port in a storm, sir, and a stiff prick has no conscience. That’s always been my philosophy. I must say, though, that—”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, that all else being equal, give me a man in my bed, rather than a woman, any time. A woman can be so demanding. She usually wants a promise of marriage—unless she already has a husband, in which case that’s his lookout. Because, of course, there is always the danger of pregnancy. A man, on the other hand—he knows the value of a quick toss off, and no harm done. Spend your seed together and be done with it, and remain good friends afterward—that’s what I like.”

  “Well, you’re quite a pragmatist, Bernard. Back home in England … you have enjoyed such liaisons with other men?”

  “On my days off,” the valet replied, calmly. “I would never allow such frolics to interfere with my duties.”

  “I would expect no less from you. Conscientiousness is among your strong points. Have you had your breakfast yet?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I would like you to run an errand for me. Here’s a list of a few things I want you to buy for me, in the town. Take your time.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  After Bernard left, Nigel had his breakfast sent up to his room.

  “Is everything satisfactory, monsieur?” the waiter asked him.

  “Entirely.”

  “That guide, Tarik, who often comes h
ere to await your orders—he is downstairs.”

  “Good. I was expecting him. Send him up, please. Oh—and I don’t wish to be disturbed. You may come back and clear away these things in an hour. No—in two hours,” Nigel said, decisively.

  “Very good, sir.”

  It was unusual to receive a guide in one’s hotel room, but Tarik was no ordinary guide, nor was his relationship with Nigel an ordinary one.

  When Tarik joined him, Nigel offered him coffee.

  “Thank you, monsieur. I will take a cup, if I may.” Tarik glanced around. “Your man is not here?”

  “Mornay? No. I sent him off on an errand. A legitimate errand, to be sure, but I must admit I wanted him out of the way, so that you and I could spend some time here, alone.”

  “Oh?” Tarik managed to charge the monosyllable with a heavy significance. “Is there something I can do for monsieur? Some service I can perform for him?”

  “Yes, there is. When you have finished your coffee, Tarik, you can undress, and join me in that bed. Assuming, of course,” Nigel added, a bit shamefacedly, “you find the suggestion to your liking.”

  “It’s an excellent suggestion, I think. This suite of rooms is quite handsomely appointed. Everything here would seem conducive to pleasure—to pleasure of a private and masculine sort. It is going to give me a great deal of satisfaction to disarrange that oh-so-very elegant bed.”

  “Let us strip, then,” Nigel urged. “No, wait. Let me bolt the door, first. I gave orders that I am not to be disturbed. But it wouldn’t do for some overzealous chambermaid to come in and surprise us.”

  “In my experience, monsieur, hotel employees, including chambermaids, are rarely overzealous, unless they are well tipped. And money can buy most things, including silence and forgetfulness.”

  When they were nude, the two men climbed into the waiting bed.

  “So,” Tarik teased Nigel. “You have been thinking of me? You desire me?”

  Nigel didn’t want to tell the Algerian that his debauch with Pascal Daumier and Maleka had only whetted his appetite for sexual gratification—and that it had ignited, deep within him, a still-smoldering desire to conduct further homosexual experiments.

  Instead, Nigel said, simply, “I do. I wish to suck you.”

  “Please feel free to do so.”

  That was one of the things Nigel liked about Tarik. The man rarely forgot his manners, even in bed.

  “Don’t hesitate to be aggressive with me,” Nigel suggested. “I have begun to acquire a taste for such things.”

  Straddling Nigel’s chest, Tarik forced his phallic weapon between the Englishman’s lips. Nigel opened his mouth wide to receive the cock, excited as always by its size and taste. Reaching behind himself, Tarik caught hold of Nigel’s own jerking tool, and he proceeded to fuck Nigel’s mouth and masturbate him at the same time.

  Little time elapsed before Nigel was sucking on the juicy meat in his mouth as hard as he could, his carnal desires aroused to fever pitch by the rough treatment he was receiving from his Algerian lover. Pumping his hips frantically up and down in response to the steady pressure of Tarik’s hand on his cock, Nigel retaliated by playing with Tarik’s balls, all the while feeling his own semen rising inside him. But Tarik seemed to become aware that the other young man lying underneath him was about to shoot his load, and so he stopped jerking Nigel off just in time to ward off the explosion. He then eased his prick back out of Nigel’s mouth.

  Nigel lay gasping on the bed, momentarily disappointed by this interruption of their pleasure. He had been on the brink of an orgasm. It seemed cruel for Tarik to have denied him the satisfaction which both of their bodies so obviously craved. He soon found out, though, that Tarik had something else in mind for them to do. Tarik’s strong arms now encircled Nigel’s naked body, and he turned Nigel onto his face.

  Nigel suspected what the lustful Algerian was going to do to him—and he shivered in a delicious combination of apprehension and anticipation. He felt the greasy lubricant being seared between his buttocks and smoothed into his tight little anal aperture. Tarik inserted two fingers into Nigel’s bunghole, working them around within it, thoroughly lubricating the opening. Nigel wriggled his buttocks, enjoying the sensation of having those two blunt-tipped fingers probing his anus.

  Then the fingers were pulled out of him and Tarik got astride him again. Nigel could feel Tarik’s large prick pressed between his buttocks, and he could not help himself from letting out a choked cry of discomfort when the thick, pulsating knob of Tarik’s penis suddenly penetrated his ass. Nigel groaned. He tried his best to relax and to get accustomed to the sheer size of the male organ which was entering him. His asshole felt as though it was being split wide open!

  After a moment, though, the pain subsided. He was able to adjust himself to the sensation of having that bulky prick rammed deep into him. He gasped with relief. And then the pleasure began, for them both. Tarik did not start humping immediately. He waited patiently until he could feel Nigel’s anus relax around his shaft and accept it. Only then did he begin the actual fucking.

  Soon Nigel not only felt comfortable with Tarik’s manhood lodged firmly inside his body—he wanted it. He wanted to be fucked!

  “Like a woman,” he pleaded. “Oh, take me like a woman!”

  “Like a cunt,” Tarik suggested, lewdly. “Like a whore!”

  “Yes—take me, like that, in that way—!”

  “But this is much better.”

  “Is it?” Nigel asked, naïvely.

  “Women are good for pleasure,” Tarik acknowledged, rather grudgingly. “But they are always silly. Sooner or later, they make demands on you. But a man—ah, he understands another man. He is good not only for pleasure in bed, but for comradeship outside the bedroom.”

  “Well, we are still in the bedroom at the moment, my very virile friend,” Nigel pointed out. “So take your pleasure. Fuck me! Please!”

  “As you wish.”

  Nigel groaned again, but in sheer ecstasy this time, as the greasy, throbbing sex tool was forced deep into his body. With his hands clasped on Nigel’s hips, Tarik rode him, gently at first, but gradually with an accelerating urgency. Nigel’s own cock, which had lost some of its erectness during the initial insertion of Tarik’s cock up his ass, now began to stiffen again. Nigel experimented by pushing his bottom up slightly, and he felt a hot thrill of added excitement rush through him as Tarik’s prick throbbed and swelled inside his anal passageway. Tarik continued to fuck him, penetrating him to the fullest possible extent with each hard thrust. It was only a matter of minutes before he had Nigel shouting with lust under him, begging to be fucked harder and faster, squiring and twisting on the bed, gasping for breath like a fish hooked on a fisherman’s line and yanked out of the water.

  In response to each thrust of Tarik’s prick into his warm, tight asshole, Nigel’s own cock quivered with barely pent-in excitement.

  Tarik began to get rougher, slamming his body down hard upon Nigel’s backside, bucking his cock brutally into the snug crevice between Nigel’s ass cheeks. The Algerian was working himself into a frenzy.

  Groaning, racked by passion, Nigel beat his fists upon the mattress. His semen began to shoot free from his prick, squirting out in a long jet beneath him. With a hoarse cry, Tarik once again forced his vibrating ramrod as far as he could get into Nigel’s ass, pressing him down hard onto the bed. As Tarik began to unleash a stream of fuck fluid into his butt, Nigel could feel the semen-drenched bedclothes rubbing wetly against his own stomach and chest. Next he felt Tarik’s close nipping at the flesh of his neck, biting him in orgasmic abandon. Tarik’s big cock swelled and spasmed deep inside his ass as it continued to spew out its creamy discharge.

  Slowly, the two young men disentangled themselves. Tarik sat up, his body dripping with sweat, his still half-erect cock dribbling jism. Nigel reached for a towel, and he began wiping the sweat and come from both of their bodies.

  “Let me be your valet,�
�� Nigel said.

  Tarik smiled at him. “And I will be yours, since your man Bernard is not here to take care of you.”

  “Bernard? So you and Mornay are on a first-name basis?”

  “We tutoyer each other, when we speak together in French. He and I—we understand each other. You must remember that we are men of the same class.”

  “Oh, and I, on the other the hand—I suppose I am nothing but a spoiled aristocrat?”

  Tarik laughed. “I did not say that. But you are indubitably a gentleman. And not only by birth.”

  “I wasn’t feeling all that gentlemanly a moment ago, when you were on top of me, having your way with me. There seemed to be no class distinctions between the two of us then. And I liked that.”

  “No, there was nothing between us, no barrier—and I, too, liked that.”

  There was a knock on the door—so light that Nigel wasn’t certain he had heard it, until it was repeated.

  “Bloody hell,” he exclaimed, under his breath.

  “I had better take my clothes into the bathroom, and get dressed in there,” Tarik murmured.

  “No, wait.” Nigel got off the bed and took a step toward the door. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, sir. Mornay.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Of course.”

  Nigel went to the door, drew back the bolt, and opened it. Mornay had his arms loaded with packages. After his valet entered the room, Nigel closed the door and secured it again.

  “I have the things you wanted, sir,” Mornay reported. His facial expression barely altered as he looked first at Nigel, who stood there beside him naked, and then at Tarik, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, also completely and unabashedly nude. “I didn’t know you had company,” Mornay added.

  “Tarik and I have been discussing—oh, never mind,” Nigel said, when he realized that any attempt at subterfuge would be futile, and unnecessary. “Put those things down anywhere, Bernard. And join us, if you’re in the mood for some fun. We three can have ourselves a frolic, as you put it.”