Distracted

Jason lay back, spread his legs wide, and elevated his hips. He moaned deeply as, hovering over him, Yusuf grasped his huge erection and started rubbing it across the young man's puckering hole.

"Holy shit, you're huge!" Jason cried out at penetration.

* * * *

In the garage beside the carpet shop, after Murat and Sam had entered the Mercedes but before Murat could engage the automatic door opener, Sam reached over, clapped his hand on the back of the young Turk's neck, and turned Murat's face toward his. Surprising the young man, Sam took the young man's mouth in a brutal, deep kiss. At the same time, he reached between Murat's thighs as the young man sat behind the wheel of the car and grabbed his cock through the material. Murat already was in erection. He'd been aroused while the four of them had been sitting and drinking in the courtyard of the residence.

"Hey, man. Ne yapıyorsun?--What are you--?"

"You know what I'm doing and it's what you want. Lay there and take it," Sam growled.

Murat writhed under him, but Sam was too strong. He deftly undid the Turk's belt, unzipped him, fished out the young man's hard cock, and grasped and squeezed it. Murat managed to pull away from the kiss and yelp. Sam banged his head against the car-door window--not enough to hurt the head or break the window--but enough so that Murat knew he was being dominated.

"Relax and take it," Sam growled. "I know you want it and you want it from me. I'm going to beat you off here. Then you're going to drive me to the Hilton, turn the car over to a valet, come up to my room, and I'm going to fuck your lights out. You want it. Then we're going to talk."

He didn't wait for any sign of assent, but cruelly took the young man's mouth with his again and started to stroke his cock off. Murat didn't struggle long. He relaxed. Sam released him from the kiss, but he continued to grasp the back of the young man's neck with one hand and stroke him off with the other. He pressed his forehead to Murat's and their eyes devoured each other's. There was no question that Murat was fine with the hand job.

A packet of tissues was embedded in the console between the seats. Sam grabbed a bunch of them and held them over Murat's cock head to contain the inevitable spouting of cum. When it came, Murat called out "Sikme, sikme--Fuck, fuck," jerked and came into the tissue and immediately jerked and came again. Sam pulled away and sat back into the passenger seat.

"Now, you can either go back into the house, no doubt finding your father fucking my nephew in the courtyard, or you can drive me to the Hilton, come up to my room, and I'll give you the fuck of your life."

Murat reached up under the rearview mirror and pushed the button that opened the garage doors to enable the Mercedes to drive, somewhat erratically, to the Hilton. Murat was trembling. How did this dominating man know that he liked it rough?

* * * *

When Jason went docile--still conscious, but floppy and humming to himself, eye's wide, taking everything in but not moving on his own steam, Yusuf took him up in his arms and carried him into one of the lounges of the residence. There was a mattress-covered platform there covered with a richly colored Oriental rug and a mountain of pillows. Yusuf arranged the pillows so that Jason was lying in them with a few under the small of his back, raising and rolling up his pelvis.

He slowly stripped the young man, taking his time and kissing and licking and fondling as he went. Wide-eyed, Jason panted and moaned in low tones. He was laid out on his back in an open, vulnerable, sacrificial position. His arms were stretched straight out from his body and his legs were spread and bent, with his feet flat on the platform. Yusuf had inserted his hands between Jason's closed calves and then, as his eyes captured Jason and Jason whimpered but did not resist, slowly glided the hands up the young man's legs, parting and coaxing Jason to bend his legs. More pillows had then gone under the young man's back to raise and roll up his hips. Jason lay there, completely open and vulnerable. He was going to be fucked, and all he could do was open his eyes wide and whimper.

The position especially aroused Yusuf. He had a fetish for debauching Christian men--a Muslim using a Christian. This was largely the reason he liked young Western, blond men. Sam knew of this fetish. Yusuf had every reason to believe now that that was why a young blond man preparing to become a Catholic priest had been brought to him as a gift.

After fully exploring the young man's perfect, naked body with his hands, mouth, and tongue, including pushing his face between Jason's buttocks cheeks and eating him out, opening him up, as Jason murmured, "Yes, yes, yes," and let his ass rock against the man's invading tongue, Yusuf went down on his knees beside Jason's prone body. He still had the diaphanous harem pants draped from his hips, although his long, upcurved erection stood out from his groin.

He lifted something up in his hand. It was a leather phallus, with a wooden mushroom cap and two leather balls hanging down from the handle. "I promised I would show you something of Turkish culture while Sam had his consultations. This is a beginning. Do you know what this is?" It was pretty obvious what it was, but Jason didn't answer. He's eyes, open wide and a bit glassy, were trained on it, though.

"This is Turkish and old. It comes from the eighteenth century. They had their pleasures even then."

Jason panted hard, and did a bit of vocalization and languid rocking of his pelvis as Yusuf slowly buried the antique leather and wood dildo up his ass to the hanging balls and worked him. He did the dildo work with one hand while stroking the young man off with the other. He didn't stop with the phallus. As Jason groaned and gasped, the two greased leather balls, one after the other, were pressed into the young man's ass as well. Out came the dildo and balls to be replaced with Yusuf's greased hand, inserted up to the wrist, the hand bunched into a fist, as Jason's pelvis rose and fell on the fist and Yusuf fucked the semiconscious young man with it.

"Oh, fuck. Shit," Jason burbled in a weak, far-away voice as he came with Yusuf's fist. Laughing, Yusuf pulled the fist out, moved between Jason's spread thighs on his knees, positioned his still rock-hard cock, and thrust up inside a well-opened channel. The fuck started slow, almost tenderly. Then, as lust overtook the old goat, he grasped the young man's hips to him and accelerated the screwing, thrusting ever more vigorously, faster, deeper.

Although weak, Jason wasn't so immobilized that he couldn't reach down with both arms, grasping one of Yusuf's plump butt cheeks in each hand, and squeeze and hold Yusuf's hips closely against his pelvis, panting and murmuring, "Shit, you're big. Screw me hard," as Yusuf fucked him to heaven. A Muslim heaven, though, Yusuf thought, laughing. Once again the Muslims win over the Christians. Yusuf was conquering a Catholic priest.

* * * *

As Sam closed the hotel room door behind them, he shoved Murat to the carpet. Surprised, the young Turk went down with an "umpf," trembling and suddenly firing on all cylinders. Sam reached down and grabbed the young man by the hair. The band on the ponytail that Murat kept shoulder length had come undone, so Sam had quite a lot of hair to grip. He hauled Murat up by the hair and slung the man toward the bedroom of the two-room suite. Murat rose and turned toward the older, bigger, more powerful man, a look of surprise--and of lust too, as Murat liked it rough--on his face. Sam backhanded him across the face, sending the young man to the floor again. Once more, he was pulled up by the hair and propelled into the bedroom.

Murat landed at the foot of the bed. Sam pulled him up by hair with one hand, but only as far as Murat going to his knees before Sam. With the other hand, Sam undid his belt buckle, unzipped himself, pulled out a champion-size erection, and growled. "Here, this is what you want. Suck it."

Murat opened his mouth to the cock, took in as much as he could throat, and gave Sam head. He didn't resist. He wanted to be manhandled. Sam had intuitively figured this out and was able to accommodate him.

At length, Sam pulled the young man up, reversed him, and bent him over the bed. Murat's trousers and briefs were puddled around his ankles, and Sam hovered over his body.

Murat cried out, "Bok. Sikme. Beni öldürüyorsun--Shit. Fuck. You're killing me." The tone in which he said it indicated that being killed was just fine with him. He was crying it out because Sam was hovering over his back, holding his head to the mattress with one hand grasping his neck, and with the fingers of his other hand digging into the young man's ass channel, spreading and opening him up.

Then the young Turk was crying out, "Evet. Evet! Sert sik beni! Sik beni! Bana acı çektir!--Yes. Yes! Fuck me! Screw me hard! Make me suffer!" And Sam did just that, mounted on the young man like a jockey on a racehorse, pressing his head to the mattress with one hand and bending the young man's arm cruelly up his back with the other hand, riding him hard to the finish line.

For the second fuck, both of them were naked, Sam lying on his back on the bed, and Murat saddled on his loins, riding his cock in the cowboy position. Murat, leaning back, was using the leverage of his knees to rise and fall on the cock, and voicing his pleasure, as Sam tweaked the young man's nipples and pounded his chest with his fists. Nothing was happening to Murat that he didn't want. He was getting the best fuck he'd ever had from the surprising virile, vigorous, and powerful older American.

Afterward, Murat collapsed on Sam's breast and inside the older man's embrace, Sam's cock still inside Murat's anal passage, the American spy chief lowered the boom.

"You aren't here by chance, Samir."

Murat's eyes flashed open and he tried to rise off Sam's chest, but Sam held him tight.

"You aren't Murat Chelik. You are Samir Demir. We have researched you carefully. And you aren't Yusuf's son. You are his asset, interacting with servicemen of all nationalities on the Inchirlik Airbase and bringing back intelligence to Yusuf for him to pass on to several of the enemy countries of mine." Again, the young man now revealed as Samir tried to wriggle out of Sam's embrace, but unsuccessfully.

"And I am not only an older colleague of Yusuf's before he retired from working for the allies and turned to gathering intelligence on my country and our allies as a freelancer and selling it to anyone who will buy: the Russians, the Chinese, the Iranians, the Israelis. I am Sam Winterberry and I head up a unit of the CIA in countering such as Yusuf--and of you, until recently."

"Until recently?" Samir managed.

"Yes. We've been receiving volunteered information on our own activities. We were perplexed, but we decided that someone was shipping us the same intelligence they had collected on us here at the Inchirlik Base to let us know what they had collected. Someone was voluntarily working for us. Research showed that the someone was you. How are you collecting this information, Samir? What do you do for the men you get the information from?"

"I think you know what I do," he answered.

"We don't want you to stop doing it, but we want you to identify the men who are giving you our secrets in exchange for your ass."

"And, so, you have come to save me? To let me come to America and start a new life?"

"Spying isn't that simple, Samir. We had come to help you continue what you're doing. Continue doing it for us for five years and we'll give you a Green Card and set up in the United States. But not until you have helped us more. We've gone through this elaborate scheme to distract Yusuf. We want to come and go with nothing changed in what you are doing. Some of what you collect for Yusuf, though, will be what we want to get to the Russians, Chinese, or Iranians and have them believe is true."

"Do I have a choice?" Samir asked.

"No, of course not. From now it will be as always between you and Yusuf. He's fucking you, isn't he?"

"Yes," Samir answered weakly.

"That should be as always, but now you are working for me, not Yusuf. We will make it easier and safer for you to get information to us. And the information you pass on to Yusuf will be what we want you to pass on. Beware of Yusuf, though. He's ruthless. He will kill you if he even suspects you are working for us."

"I will be careful," Samir murmured.

Sam continued. "Yusuf will be distracted again tomorrow, as no doubt he is being distracted even now. You will take me for my nonexistent appointments at the base tomorrow, but we will really come here for instruction on how you are to keep in contact with us. Yusuf has blessed you to contact and, no doubt, cultivate and use the jet mechanic, Ahmet, which plays right into our hands. Ahmet is to be your handler. He's here now. We are going to solidify our relationship with and command over you now."

This was the cue for Ahmet to appear at the bedroom door, naked, in erection, and crowned with a condom. Samir groaned and Sam was coming alive inside Samir's passage as Ahmet climbed up on the bed, placing his knees between Sam's legs, approaching Samir from on top and behind, holding his erection in one hand and positioning it.

Samir gasped and cried out in surprise and pain as Ahmet's shaft entered him and forced its way up the channel along the top of Sam's buried cock.

"SIKME! Sikme! Sikme," Samir called out in an every-diminishing voice laced with gasps and moans as the two me began coordinate thrusts, working the young Turk writhing between them in close coordination.

Samir moved between them in pain-passion, whimpering and gasping, but enjoying the attention and taking immensely.

* * * *

Dinner that night, featuring traditional Turkish dishes, service Turkish style, and served after 10:00 p.m., per Turkish tradition, and provided in the spirit of continuing Jason's exposure to Turkish culture, was a success. It was served by the same good-looking young woman and man who had served them earlier in the day in the courtyard. Both were provocatively dressed in belly-dancing costumes that they would be wearing later in the evening as they danced to recorded Turkish music for them in one of the lounges and Jason's exposure to Turkish culture continued.

"I didn't know that Turkish men belly danced too--and could do it so well," Sam said.

"Another introduction into traditional Turkish culture," Yusuf answered, with a smile.

The men were on their best behavior, with all intent on not revealing how intimate they had become with another man other than the one they were originally linked to. Yusuf sat with the young man now known to Sam to be Samir, although they were keeping up pretense that he was Murat in Yusuf's presence, and Jason sat with Sam. Both young men signaled "I am with the man I came with" by Samir servicing food to Yusuf and, after watching how Samir did it, Jason serving food to Sam.

They all watched the belly dancing, with interest, but all were careful not to get intimate with any of the others despite how sensual and suggestive the dancing was. If each of the four was watching the young man dance more than they were ogling the young woman, none commented on that.

When they went to bed, it was to the four separate bedrooms upstairs. I wasn't long, though, before Yusuf entered Jason's unlocked bedroom, shrugged his robe off to reveal that all he was wearing was a condom on his engorged pill-enhanced shaft, was welcomed into the bed, and was ridden by Jason into the night for as long as the pill held its power.

Sam was not unaware that Yusuf had changed bedrooms. He was pleased. All was as planned. He waited until Yusuf was well distracted with Jason before he entered Samir's unlocked bedroom, climbed on top of the young Turk, slapped him around a bit until Samir wholly surrendered to him, and did a little fist fucking before mounting a whimpering Samir and giving him a rough fuck.

Samir was delighted. Yusuf could be cruel but not anywhere this close to fully conquering and satiating.

* * * *

Yusuf and Jason greeted each other at breakfast as if they hadn't rolled out of the same bed in the same room earlier in the morning. They needn't have bothered the charade. Sam and Samir had rolled out of the bed in the same room earlier and had already left for the Hilton, telling the servants they were meeting Ahmet at the Inchirlik Airbase.

"We can check out the Catholic shrines in the city," Yusuf said, "Or..."

"Or what?" Jason asked.

"We could continue the exposure to traditional Turkey. We could go to a hamam and you could be introduced to the nargile and perhaps, just perhaps, I could introduce you to some true zenne."

"Hamam? Nargile? Zenne?" Jason asked.

"A hamam is a Turkish bath, and they can be very special here in Turkey. In one I would introduce you to, like Cesme Humami, Kosk Hamami, or Girne Hamami, all fairly close by to here, you not only can experience a Turkish bath, but a massage as well and such entertainment as the nargile and the zenne?"

"And, again, the nargile and zenne?" Jason asked, with a smile.

"You have probably heard the nargile referred to as a hookah. It's a waterpipe. The nargile is the Turkish version. You can use it to take nicotine, or hashish, or opium, or..."

"Or what?" Jason asked.

"Or essentially the same drug you took last night, which could prepare you to experience the zenne."

"Ah, the zenne. The zenne at last," Jason said.

"Yes, the zenne at last. Last night my manservant showed you that there are male belly dancers. He did nicely, I think, but he is not a professional. There are professional Turkish belly dancers. They are called zenne. There are three quite good ones at the nearby Girne Hamami. These three are at the height of their specialty."

"The height being?"

"The height of being a zenne, which started at the courts of Turkish sultans in the hedonist, final eras of the Ottoman Empire, was that they were courtesans of the highest order. They danced for the sultans and then they either lay down for the sultans or covered them, according to the sultan's desire--singly or in pairs and more."

"And the zenne at this nearby Turkish bath?"

"If you are interest in such a traditional Turkish experience--instead perhaps in learning more about the Catholic experience and presence in Adana--we would bathe and be massaged together. Then you could lie back on a divan and use the nargile, perhaps with the same drug we used last night, while the three zenne danced for you."

"And then?" Jason asked, his voice thick with want. They had been sitting beside each other on pillows at a low table to have their breakfast, and Yusuf had been free about touching and fondling Jason as they discussed the possible activities of the day. They were both in silken robes and nothing else. At this point in the conversation, Yusuf was turned to Jason. He had an arm around the young man's waist, and his other hand was roaming around inside Jason's robe, flesh on flesh. Jason was sighing and swaying a bit in response to the exploration of Yusuf's hands.

"And then the zenne will move together in fucking you on the divan, you feeling and seeing everything, but helpless, vulnerable, open to them, one behind you and inside you, one before you and inside you, and one at your head, inside you."

"And you? You will watch?" Jason asked with a raspy voice, gasping, as the robes of both open falling off their bodies, and Yusuf stroking the young man's shaft with a hand.

"I? I will watch them service you fully. And when they have finished inside you, they will melt away and then I will be on you, fucking you. Like this."