Hamid was, it must be said, not a bad boy at all. He was inclined to be kind, by nature, and he was polite by training. He was, however, not a wise boy, nor a particular clever one. He wasn’t bad looking, it must be said, but he lacked a certain air of confidence for reasons that will soon become clear.
This had the effect of making him a bit of an easy mark.
He was but 18 summers old, and he was lonely, the poor boy. And he had just earned his first proper pay, as a day laborer, loading and unloading for the merchants at the bazaar. Honest work, and a bit demanding, but the boy had unexpectedly enjoyed it. He liked things simple and straightforward, guileless would that he was. Afterwards, he had washed the sweat from his body, changed into a nicer outfit, and informed his aunt that he was going out with his friends.
“Friends” was perhaps too strong a word; he had agreed to go out on the town with the other lads from the bazaar, and they’d had a lot of strong drink. As is often the case with hot blooded youth, things became competitive. Hamid was talked into a drinking contest, then a push up contest, and in both, he made an unimpressive showing. At least he wasn’t the worst of the group in either, but in his inebriated state, he took it pretty hard.
The final straw was when everyone stumbled out to the alley, and Samir announced loudly that he needed a piss. Being, at that point, little more than a roving pack of dogs, in temperament, the gaggle of young men lined up, one and all, to empty their bladders against the wall.
It would be unfair to say that it was an accident that Hamid stood next to Samir. Far from it. Hamid had been shyly crushing on the burly, athletic older boy for the past week. Hamid had known he preferred boys since he had come of age, but of late he had become aware that he had a “type”, and while others drew his eye, that “type” was basically Samir.
The tall, muscular Samir was popular, and friendly, and seemed to like Hamid’s company well enough, though Hamid never let his hopes grow too much. In truth Samir got along with everyone, and why wouldn’t he? He was beautiful, his body a cascade of hard-won muscle and easy athleticism; he had been good at sport, he kept himself clean and dressed well enough, and he was charming. He had long black waves of hair, tied at the back, and an enticing amount of body hair, too — not the wild tangles and animalistic pelts of some of the other boys in the bazaar, but just, to Hamid’s eyes, the right amount, and neatly brushed.
And because of the labor they’d been doing, Hamid had been tormented by the sight of this beautiful older boy’s bare chest and tight stomach and broad back and strong arms all week. He had had to work hard not to stare, and only his long practice at hiding his interest in other boys kept him from gawking like a maid.
Had he but known it, Hamid was considered a nicely built boy himself. Certainly he kept in good shape, as much from genetics and hard work as anything else. He was lean, lithe, and trim. Taller than he seemed, with a youth’s lanky build, though he was a handspan shorter than Samir. His aunt cut his thick black hair, though it must be said she was not particularly good at it, nor was he particularly skilled at making it do his bidding. The result was a sort of wavy, shaggy, indistinct black blob, and he tamed it with a hat. Still, he was a reasonably good looking youth with a decent if unremarkable face. His nose was strong and straight, and his eyes were large and sparkling brown under thick brows. He had no idea that the girls thought him cute, and spoke of his long lashes with some envy, nor that some of the boys were envious of his trim form and lack of unruly body hair.
No, overall, Hamid was fine, but for one thing.
He was, to put it charitably, unfitted in his manhood. And like so many other boys, the perception of inadequacy there gnawed at his psyche, whispering derogatory comments in his ear. But in his case, he barely passed two fingers when soft, and only three when hard. His stones were similarly unimpressive and suited his cock well. He could have passed for a boy of twelve, if you only saw his bait and tackle. And that had been the source of his lack of confidence since he came of age.
But it had sparked in him a great curiosity about his crush’s cock. So as they stood side by side, as boys do, rather than pretending to stare at the walk or focus on his own aim, he found his gaze drawn to Samir’s hands, which held a prize he had barely guessed at.
Samir was apparently as gifted in his manhood as he was in all other things, Hamid thought. The older boy’s dick was soft but easily outspanned Samir’s overlarge hands half again as Samir pulled it out of his shorts and aimed. A healthy torrent of piss blasted out, and Hamid hurriedly refocused on his own aim, praying he wouldn’t stiffen up and make a mess.
Boys can be cruel, as anyone knows who’s observed them, much less been one. Teenage boys are the worst, because they haven’t yet learned self control and are very much ruled by their base instincts, and for most, that devolves into years of unconsciously jockeying for dominance in their pack, trying to impress any girls who might be watching, hoping to get laid. They usually weren’t even conscious of doing so, and usually their efforts failed to impress anyone, much less prospective mates. These boys were no different, aside from Hamid, but even he wasn’t immune to the unconscious preening and showing off that made up much of the interacting of any group of boys. But for him it was tempered by the inadequacy he felt downstairs.
But his luck had finally run out.
To his horror, he heard a mocking chuckle to his right, and there was Mahmoud, his own lengthy rod on full display, grinning like a cat who found its prey cornered.
“Well well, boys, it looks like Ham forgot to bring his dick with him!”
Mahmoud was not normally a cruel boy, but he was drunk, and he had caught the bar maid staring at his comrade, and paying no attention to Mahmoud, and it had left him annoyed with Hamid. And being cross, he had been unconsciously looking for a reason to take Hakim down a peg or two all night. He never noticed that Hamid was oblivious to he girl’s interest in him. Well, here was his chance to raise his status along the pack! Mahmoud’s own pecker was fat and long, giving the show of power that Mahmoud’s body — stocky, hairy, and muscular — suggested. It matched the boys thick neck and broad back, and Mahmoud had been making use of it for the past few years with moderate success, and had set his sites on Fatima, so he was not expecting to lose out to a small dicked skinny boy who didn’t even seem to know they were competing for her attention.
“Fuckmoff, Mahmoud,” Hamid whispered angrily. he desperately wanted to shove his dick back in his pants, but he was still pissing, with no end in sight.
Of course, the other boys sensed a new game afoot, scented prey, and their drunken curiosity meant that half a dozen pairs of eyes were now centered on the paltry prize he gripped in the fingers of his right hand.
“Hah! Where is the rest of it?”
“Did you forget to water it?”
“Perhaps he has another dick and this is just his spare one!”
It must be said that Samir did not participate in this boyish nonsense. He was neither cruel nor too drunk, and he rather liked Hamid. Normally he felt a little protective of the shy lad. So he hadn’t said anything mean, and didn’t even laugh. He just rolled his eyes in annoyance, but he couldn’t help but find his gaze drawn to Hamid’s crotch.
Angrily finishing his piss, the humiliated boy tucked himself away again, and spun around, only to find he last thing in he world he wanted to see. Samir had seen it.
Samir looked down at him with pity in his eyes, just for a moment. The older boy quickly changed his expression, but it was too late.
“Fuck you all,” Hakim said, and stormed off.
Of course, that’s when it started to rain.
This had the effect of making him a bit of an easy mark.
He was but 18 summers old, and he was lonely, the poor boy. And he had just earned his first proper pay, as a day laborer, loading and unloading for the merchants at the bazaar. Honest work, and a bit demanding, but the boy had unexpectedly enjoyed it. He liked things simple and straightforward, guileless would that he was. Afterwards, he had washed the sweat from his body, changed into a nicer outfit, and informed his aunt that he was going out with his friends.
“Friends” was perhaps too strong a word; he had agreed to go out on the town with the other lads from the bazaar, and they’d had a lot of strong drink. As is often the case with hot blooded youth, things became competitive. Hamid was talked into a drinking contest, then a push up contest, and in both, he made an unimpressive showing. At least he wasn’t the worst of the group in either, but in his inebriated state, he took it pretty hard.
The final straw was when everyone stumbled out to the alley, and Samir announced loudly that he needed a piss. Being, at that point, little more than a roving pack of dogs, in temperament, the gaggle of young men lined up, one and all, to empty their bladders against the wall.
It would be unfair to say that it was an accident that Hamid stood next to Samir. Far from it. Hamid had been shyly crushing on the burly, athletic older boy for the past week. Hamid had known he preferred boys since he had come of age, but of late he had become aware that he had a “type”, and while others drew his eye, that “type” was basically Samir.
The tall, muscular Samir was popular, and friendly, and seemed to like Hamid’s company well enough, though Hamid never let his hopes grow too much. In truth Samir got along with everyone, and why wouldn’t he? He was beautiful, his body a cascade of hard-won muscle and easy athleticism; he had been good at sport, he kept himself clean and dressed well enough, and he was charming. He had long black waves of hair, tied at the back, and an enticing amount of body hair, too — not the wild tangles and animalistic pelts of some of the other boys in the bazaar, but just, to Hamid’s eyes, the right amount, and neatly brushed.
And because of the labor they’d been doing, Hamid had been tormented by the sight of this beautiful older boy’s bare chest and tight stomach and broad back and strong arms all week. He had had to work hard not to stare, and only his long practice at hiding his interest in other boys kept him from gawking like a maid.
Had he but known it, Hamid was considered a nicely built boy himself. Certainly he kept in good shape, as much from genetics and hard work as anything else. He was lean, lithe, and trim. Taller than he seemed, with a youth’s lanky build, though he was a handspan shorter than Samir. His aunt cut his thick black hair, though it must be said she was not particularly good at it, nor was he particularly skilled at making it do his bidding. The result was a sort of wavy, shaggy, indistinct black blob, and he tamed it with a hat. Still, he was a reasonably good looking youth with a decent if unremarkable face. His nose was strong and straight, and his eyes were large and sparkling brown under thick brows. He had no idea that the girls thought him cute, and spoke of his long lashes with some envy, nor that some of the boys were envious of his trim form and lack of unruly body hair.
No, overall, Hamid was fine, but for one thing.
He was, to put it charitably, unfitted in his manhood. And like so many other boys, the perception of inadequacy there gnawed at his psyche, whispering derogatory comments in his ear. But in his case, he barely passed two fingers when soft, and only three when hard. His stones were similarly unimpressive and suited his cock well. He could have passed for a boy of twelve, if you only saw his bait and tackle. And that had been the source of his lack of confidence since he came of age.
But it had sparked in him a great curiosity about his crush’s cock. So as they stood side by side, as boys do, rather than pretending to stare at the walk or focus on his own aim, he found his gaze drawn to Samir’s hands, which held a prize he had barely guessed at.
Samir was apparently as gifted in his manhood as he was in all other things, Hamid thought. The older boy’s dick was soft but easily outspanned Samir’s overlarge hands half again as Samir pulled it out of his shorts and aimed. A healthy torrent of piss blasted out, and Hamid hurriedly refocused on his own aim, praying he wouldn’t stiffen up and make a mess.
Boys can be cruel, as anyone knows who’s observed them, much less been one. Teenage boys are the worst, because they haven’t yet learned self control and are very much ruled by their base instincts, and for most, that devolves into years of unconsciously jockeying for dominance in their pack, trying to impress any girls who might be watching, hoping to get laid. They usually weren’t even conscious of doing so, and usually their efforts failed to impress anyone, much less prospective mates. These boys were no different, aside from Hamid, but even he wasn’t immune to the unconscious preening and showing off that made up much of the interacting of any group of boys. But for him it was tempered by the inadequacy he felt downstairs.
But his luck had finally run out.
To his horror, he heard a mocking chuckle to his right, and there was Mahmoud, his own lengthy rod on full display, grinning like a cat who found its prey cornered.
“Well well, boys, it looks like Ham forgot to bring his dick with him!”
Mahmoud was not normally a cruel boy, but he was drunk, and he had caught the bar maid staring at his comrade, and paying no attention to Mahmoud, and it had left him annoyed with Hamid. And being cross, he had been unconsciously looking for a reason to take Hakim down a peg or two all night. He never noticed that Hamid was oblivious to he girl’s interest in him. Well, here was his chance to raise his status along the pack! Mahmoud’s own pecker was fat and long, giving the show of power that Mahmoud’s body — stocky, hairy, and muscular — suggested. It matched the boys thick neck and broad back, and Mahmoud had been making use of it for the past few years with moderate success, and had set his sites on Fatima, so he was not expecting to lose out to a small dicked skinny boy who didn’t even seem to know they were competing for her attention.
“Fuckmoff, Mahmoud,” Hamid whispered angrily. he desperately wanted to shove his dick back in his pants, but he was still pissing, with no end in sight.
Of course, the other boys sensed a new game afoot, scented prey, and their drunken curiosity meant that half a dozen pairs of eyes were now centered on the paltry prize he gripped in the fingers of his right hand.
“Hah! Where is the rest of it?”
“Did you forget to water it?”
“Perhaps he has another dick and this is just his spare one!”
It must be said that Samir did not participate in this boyish nonsense. He was neither cruel nor too drunk, and he rather liked Hamid. Normally he felt a little protective of the shy lad. So he hadn’t said anything mean, and didn’t even laugh. He just rolled his eyes in annoyance, but he couldn’t help but find his gaze drawn to Hamid’s crotch.
Angrily finishing his piss, the humiliated boy tucked himself away again, and spun around, only to find he last thing in he world he wanted to see. Samir had seen it.
Samir looked down at him with pity in his eyes, just for a moment. The older boy quickly changed his expression, but it was too late.
“Fuck you all,” Hakim said, and stormed off.
Of course, that’s when it started to rain.
