Mecca, pleasure dome decree...brother? uh huh?

Dearest global, I have this past ten days been on my first trip to the middle east, where I met and had sex quite spontaneously, with a man (unusual for me as this is only my first real come in someone's mouth experience) not anal of course, as hard as he may have wanted it. This man was a real man no twink nor chicken, but a real live one, I suppose he was in his mid twenties a little older than me.
I can only describe him as perfect. His face was so handsome I kept wondering if he was real. He was tall and dark and perfectly built, lean as a f***ing machine, his eyes were green like a snake his hair like his jaw chiselled to perfection etc etc.
Another thing I noticed while lolling around in the Arabian gulf with him was his extraordinary long stiff solid cock, the like I have never before witnessed,for pure length and thickness I would not be surprised if this was some kind or record, and the head on that thing! He was an Egyptian labourer, working on the construction of a five star hotel, this was his lunch break/swim.

Ok I am no good at this love thing nor any-good at its description, not enough experience, and i am still befuddled and throwing words into the air. I feel like i have one thousand butterflies flapping in my tummy, this plus that rather fantastic feeling of having rubber legs (he was very good with his hands) and a very pathetic longing. I wonder if this is love, my first love. We look like brothers except I am as fair as the winter snow.
I am no real judge of these things and people dont think I am gay, but i really did not see that in him either. All a bit confusing. Can this be? Two straights falling in love, or is this just the strange magic that comes over one when in the middle east? I think I must be definitely gay as I have never had one thousand butterflies flapping in my stomach before. Nor have I ever felt so distant and alone to board an aeroplane before.

And to think, so passionate was our daily hour that I didn't even get his name. Something i am very upset about, but at the time there was an unspoken thingy, I think we both just felt it was an impossible dream. That and neither of us could understand one word of each others language, but his eyes nestled into my soul when ever we met. I am thinking of converting to the Muslim faith. Anything feels possible.

PS (Are there any middle eastern boards like this one around? I am afraid I no longer, that is I mean, I will be spending more time in the Middle East now,trying to avoid orange jump suits and home videos ) Mr Smiles? Am I doing the right thing?

I have no doubt you are doing the right thing. Toodle-oo, young Cedric. Do send a postcard from Riyadh! Our loss will certainly be the Middle East's, er, loss.

[Smiles]

" .... Mr Smiles? Am I doing the right thing? ... "
I doubt it, but why ask me?

But cheers and good luck anyway . . . "Florence of Arabia"

Smiles you seem a mature man of this world, I have led a very sheltered life these last few years and well I have become fond of your gentle sense of humour and patiently considered wisdom's, you don't sound like a man of extremes, or a raging menopausal queen to me. A tall glass of spring water enriched with oxygen from a lofty mountain plateau. Need you really ask after reading Arse-hole's reply? Jejune would be an understatement but most definitely a move from insipid to puerile.
If ever I needed to doubt my actions now would be a good time. I am swimming in some very strong and conflicting currents here, I would be the first to admit that I am afraid, but exhilarated at the same time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVQn1mLjIhU&search=arab

Maybe it's just the yearnings of my particularly comfortable youth but I feel it might be liberating to shed all my undeserved material baggage and shack up with an Egyptian labourer. It might on the face of it appear truly rash, but sometimes I feel like i am suffocating under the pressure. Is it not so, that every man must learn to fly for themselves, before they can truly be called a man? I have no romantic notions of what life in the middle east will entail, and I am sure i will live like a sewer rat before I learn to fly, but this moment this last few weeks seemed so much like my destiny and true right of passage that i am almost powerless to resist. Three weeks in the Middle East and all the comfort and security of life amongst the worlds most materially obsessed and culturally starved people I have known, seem already like a distant bad memory. Like an English step mother on a rainy week in a non existent English summer.

[Aunty]

I'm sorry Cedric, but Florence of Arabia, now that is just too damn funny. Hence forth I shall always think of you as Florence., of Arabia.

My dear you have been smitten haven't you? A fire in your belly, a longing in your heart, a burning in your manly loins. Oh this purple prose I love it. I can help with the loins by the way! :bounce: Now don't look at me like that!

While I'm sure that throwing fate and caution to the winds of fortune and shacking up with your Egyptian lover under the pyramids does seem awfully romantic to you, given that he us just a lowly labourer with barely a crumpled oil lamp to his name, while you on the other hand are a high society princess, might I suggest you take a moment or two to pause. You have a common affliction my dear, in str8 men it's called cunt-struck. In you it's boner-struck. And what a big boner to be struck with it is too! I'm green with envy darling. Got any pics?

Yes in your little love shack in the Arabian desert, you the little house wife waving off your handsome beau to his days of brick tossing, yes in your 20's it's all soooo romantic, under an endless blue sky the crisp white cotton sheets caress your tender love making. But believe me, by your 30's it will be just so so and by your 40's (assuming he hasn't fucked off to have a couple of kids with Fatima, his fat cousin from the next village) it will be a fucking BORE. And in this headlong rush my dear, what does your hot Arabian knight have to say about your plans? Where does he fit into all of this? What does he have to say? What does he want? Maybe to him you were as much a hot exotic fuck as he was for you, but other than that he sees no vision of your love shack in the desert and no desire for it either? After all the penalty for bumming in Egypt is quite high, is it not?

Oh and by the way, these feelings that have awoken in you, the longing, the desire, how good it truly feels to have a man in your arms, the delicious touch of skin, the pleasure of sex, what will you do with these feelings when you reach 60 and are no longer young and attractive, and gorgeous young Egyptian labourers no longer give you even so much as a second glance?

Go to Thailand and off a boy? It's just a thought darling.

....you have been smitten haven't you? A fire in your belly, a longing in your heart, a burning in your manly loins.

My room mate, Ginger Vitis, thought she was in love in Egypt pricklayer too--And she felt exactly like that! It turned out to be indigestion, ptomaine and clap all at the same time. I recommend a bland diet, Imodium and penicillin and a good lie-down.

His story sounds all too familiar. I think Cedrick rented, and is hallucinating, an old movie: Garden of Allah 1936 a visually stunning flop with wonderful (And mostly wasted) music by Max Steiner.
Charles Boyer the love interest of Marlene Dietrich (From whom the ever popular Tilly Losch (Best known for Maggie & Jiggs one-reelers) stole the show with her kitchy koochie-koochie dance.). La Dietrich crossing the Sahara in spikes and designer silks--And a coiffure that stands up to a sand storm--is pure camp!
A quote from the movie might be good advice:
"Take care! You've come to the land of Fire--And I think you are made of fire*."*That burning in the loins, again?


Maybe it's just the yearnings of my particularly comfortable youth but I feel it might be liberating to shed all my undeserved material baggage and shack up with an Egyptian labourer. It might on the face of it appear truly rash, but sometimes I feel like i am suffocating under the pressure.

Don't shed all your baggage; bring Gold Bond Powder (For the rash), extra holding Spray Net (Those sand-storms), SPF 30 and lots of money, for your honey, all wraped in a 5┬г note--Or what ever.


....I am sure i will live like a sewer rat before I learn to fly, but this moment this last few weeks seemed so much like my destiny and true right of passage that I am almost powerless to resist. Three weeks in the Middle East and all the comfort and security of life amongst the worlds most materially obsessed and culturally starved people I have known, seem already like a distant bad memory. Like an English step mother on a rainy week in a non existent English summer.

Spoken like a true child of the sixtys.
I think it was Stephen Hawking (Mentioned elsewhere on the board.) who said, "Every time I hear the word, culture, I want to take the safety off my Browning," that's a gun; not a sex act.
But, what the hell; go and peace be with you!... Better than sitting around wishing you had...for the rest of your life...or until your next good blow...excuse me: 'come-in-someone's-mouth-experience,' which ever cums first--As is usually the case with matters of the heart &\or loins.

Thank-you Edith and Aunty for all the kind advice. I am feeling much better this morning.

As a long time resident of the Gulf I can attest to the many charms of an Arab man. It is the easiest place to pick-up guys in the world. Now granted there are some real barkers out there but when you get a good one, and it's not that hard, well they can truly make your head spin, as well as other key body parts.

As far as the age thing mentioned, I know of an American guy in his 70s who has to beat them off with a stick. I am in my 40s and wouldn't get a second look back home but here could easily entertain 3-4 a night if I was so inclined. And most of these guys are in their early 20s. When you find an Arab guy who is truly into it (and there are a lot of straight ones just looking for a warm hole) it will be the most passionate sex you ever had.

I have had a lot of great Thai guys but given the choice I wil take an Arab guy anytime.

that depraved freak Steven Hawking reared it's ugly crooked headI've always believed that you can make snide comments about people for things that are avoidable. This attack on Stephen Hawking is about as low as anyone can go

[Bob]

...that depraved freak Steven Hawking reared it's ugly crooked head.

Young Cedric, that remark was callous and totally inappropriate. Stephen (not Steven) Hawking has a severe case of ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis) and probably has more mental capability in his small toe than your entire cerebellum is capable of producing. As a young punk, you obviously have limited maturity in filtering your comments.




P.S. Edith, Hawking didn't make that comment. He is, however, a renowned wit and did say:"When I hear of Schr├╢dinger's cat, I reach for my pistol" (this was a deliberately ironic paraphrase of the phrase "Whenever I hear the word culture... I release the safety-catch of my Browning !", from a play Schlageter (Act 1, Scene 1) by German playwright and Nazi Poet Laureate, Hanns Johst).

Hommintern and Bob, I am sorry I offended you. But due to some few years spent in the Netherlands during a quite crucial developmental phase in my life, I picked up the rather filthy and very un-English habit of egalitarianism.

Stephen Hawking ... prefers to slur his load ... This is the guy who has a medical condition that means he can't speak except through a synthesizer, let alone wipe his own arse, isn't it? I didn't realise he adopted this approach as a preference. Let me assure you that while you may regard yourself as my equal, it is not reciprocated. You are a moral pygmy

DELETED

[piston10]

Cedric,

Your comment on Stephen Hawking is the most contemptible remark ever posted on the Forum; and I cannot remember ever hearing such an awful statement made about a person with terrible disabilities. Your breezy and totally uncommitted self-defence is quite wide of the mark, too.

It's difficult to see what lies behind 'You obviously don't know the man', but that, and your inveighing against 'celebrity scientists', suggests a grudge that has left you quite unbalanced. It's perfectly possible that there may be things to say about his personality; though how could the daily torture of having a sharp mind trapped in such a wretched body not have some effects on personality?

Whatever, your defence is not to the point. You were not speaking about his personality. To your eternal shame, you took the opportunity to string together the most vicious description of the man's physical condition that you could devise. Callow and obscene. One would have hoped that your experience in the Netherlands, a remarkably humane country, would have had a deeper effect on you.

Sorry Piston and sorry all sufferers of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. As childish as that might seem it is all I have to offer on the subject at moment. You are right of course, I wrote that truly without a backward glance. Like it came straight from the hand of the devil himself. I have removed it.

P.S. Edith, Hawking didn't make that comment. He is, however, a renowned wit and did say:"When I hear of Schr├╢dinger's cat, I reach for my pistol" (this was a deliberately ironic paraphrase of the phrase "Whenever I hear the word culture... I release the safety-catch of my Browning !", from a play Schlageter (Act 1, Scene 1) by German playwright and Nazi Poet Laureate, Hanns Johst).

Yes, I guess I got the cart before the horse or hitched them in tandem?...whatever; it's so gratifying when someone knows what I mean...since I so often do not.

"Picked up egalitarianism in the Netherlands..." No doubt at that long gone and sorely missed night-sauna, Egelantier on Egelantiersstraat...a common occurrence easily remedied, I'm told, with lye soap.
One young man I met there told me he was Kissie's lover and regularly tricked with 'Prince xxxxxxx.'
I thought it strange he didn't know the name, said something definitely not the name of any of them...but I kept stum: one does not argue with someone who...like a Hoover--And six times in twelve hours!...If he'd told me he laid Rembrandt I'd have said, "Oh, how nice for you!... keep ....ing"

... let me be quite clear. If Cedric thinks Hawking is an awful man with opinions to which Cedric objects, that is one thing, and he's entitledto express himself on the subject. However to attack those statements by caricaturing Hawking's disability is unacceptable. I realise there's a fine line between what is and is not acceptable and I am accused of crossing it myself (fairly frequently). I've heard Stephen Hawking voice synthesizer jokes that I've found quite funny whereas others no doubt thought them in poor taste - but they weren't an attack on the man where there is nothing he can do to correct the situation

I don't separate the "man" from his brain, miss-guided perhaps? It has all been tied up in one large overexposed media bundle anyway. Buy some of it trash the rest.
Sadly you are probably right Homintern, he has made that his destiny. I see him more like a Francis Bacon portrait, and I am sure Bacon would not have beaten about the bush to conceal his interpretation of the man either. Why would he have?
Even though it might not be fully apparent I am exercising extreme self control here.

Edith I don't know about Prince I never met him in Amsterdam, but then these were not the kind of Sauna's my parents took me too. But later much later Grace Jones was a regular in our small Prinseneiland (The Island of the Prince's) community,and even Mr Bowie had reason to stay a week or three. A bit of a mid-life crisis I think, reliving his days of small concerts and the like, but he was too old already to try and off me, Edith. Then there was the time I saw Farrokh Bulsara buying sweet bread from the corner cafe. I believe Grace Jones in her day was quite famous. :blackeye:

[Marsilius]

Oh, dear. What a lot of fuss, given that dear Edith misattributed the quote in the first place. Stephen Hawking did NOT originate that quotation about reaching for a Browing when hearing the word "culture".

In fact, all this fury would have been far better directed at its REALLY monstrous author (or, to be more precise, adapter).

I quote from www.everything2.com (http://www.everything2.com):

[This is] A quote often associated with Hermann G├╢ring, (Jan 12, 1893-Oct. 15, 1946) a member of the Nazi party who was sentenced to death at the Nuremberg Trials.

The original quote was not actually from G├╢ring, but from Act 1, Scene 1 of Hanns Johst's play Schlageter, which was performed in 1933 for Adolf Hitler's birthday. The original line was: "Wenn ich Kultur h├╢re ... entsichere ich meinen Browning!" which means "When I hear "culture" I release the safety catch on my Browning!"

The phrase G├╢ring is said to have been fond of is the slightly modified "When I hear the word 'culture' I reach for my gun." Or sometimes "When I hear the word 'culture' I reach for my Browning." Perhaps he modified the quote for his own usage, or over the years, translation has become garbled.