Matryoshka Kidnapping

I railed at Arnold as he stood over me and started to strip. I looked over and the Turks were stripping off their clothes as well. They had already taken their belts and trussed up Harry on top of the carpet spread out on the stones of the courtyard. Each Turk, a big grin on his face, was neatly folding his own clothes and piling them where I had placed Harry's and mine. When they were naked, they sat about the courtyard, stroking themselves up and laughing and drinking the last of their coffee and sipping Ouzo and eating as they talked in snickering tones with each other and watched Arnold begin to have his way with me. I had held him off for months, which apparently had only inflamed him more. When Arnold was well into fucking me, I saw the Turks rise, almost as one, and circle around Harry briefly before his writhing body disappeared under theirs and I heard the sounds of a lustful group taking.

Arnold was crouched on my chest, lubricating my entrance and making me whimper as he removed his fingers, two of them, from deep inside me. I moaned as he placed the head of his cock at my entrance and I cried out to him in mixed anger, fear, and passion as he entered me. I arched my back, trying to take him as comfortably as possible, and, because he was mastering me in ways I had no idea I could respond to, I started moving my hips in rhythm with his riding of me. When he bottomed, I was moaning in pleasure and begging him to go harder. To fill me deep. He fucked me hard and deep in release of months of frustration to have at me in this way, and I came in a wild shudder and spouting of cream up his belly before he filled me with his own cream.

I should have stopped to examine my forebodings back at the air strip, when we were loading Harry into the truck. But, no, it had been too late then. I had been blind. What had been my plan to kidnap and debauch Harry, had actually been Arnold's plan to kidnap and debauch me.

* * *

The Turkish men were sitting in a circle around us, laughing and jesting with each other, their hardening cocks flopping back and forth, as I lay there on the carpet, trussed up with the belts from their trousers, and watched Arnold begin to fuck Howard. They were just sitting there, looking now at Arnold and Howard and now at me, licking their lips. Building up to something and drinking from their small cups of strong Turkish coffee and their side glasses of Ouzo. My legs were held close together by the belts, as were my wrists by other belts. I shuddered in anticipating, though, as the Turks rose as if in unison when they'd seen Arnold bury his cock inside Howard, and they moved to encircle me. And then they were all touching me and gliding their hands on my body and becoming more and more intimate in their touch and bold in their invasions. They released my wrists and legs, but I was trapped inside their circle of writhing bodies. They had only released me to stretch me out, to open me up to their assault. There were lips and cocks everywhere. Invading my mouth and my ass, sometimes not one at a time. I was being devoured by young, well-muscled dark-bodiesd luscious Turkish hunks.

I loved it. It was fulfilling a fantasy of mine. It was worth the trip and all of the doublecrossing. I should have felt betrayed. I had planned for these men, precisely these men—Howard, Arnold, and my students to bring me to this place. But I thought there was only Howard to pay for that with sex. I didn't feel betrayed, however, because they were fulfilling my fetish; they were all giving me what I couldn't get enough of.

At length, the Turks left me and went back to their coffee and Ouzo and light bantering. The cream of four men was oozing out of my ass, along my closely held thighs, and down my chin and chest.

I looked over at Howard and Arnold. Arnold had finished with Howard, and Howard was just lying there, trembling, completely exhausted from having been topped for the first time in many years. Arnold looked over at me and grinned. I recognized that look. A man who wasn't finished yet.

He rose and took three strides toward me and was sitting astride my hips and entering my Turk-lubricated and slackened ass with his cock. I cried out against the renewed invasion and then I cried out at the renewed pleasure of it all, as the cream of four men lubricated Arnold's frenzied pumping action, I cried for him to go deeper and deeper. All the time the Turkish men were sitting in a circle around us, sipping on their coffee and Ouzo and laughing and jesting. I had no doubt they were not finished with their own lust.

But I no longer can be sure who is in control here. Who is the master and who is the slave. Who is fucking and who is being fucked. It's all so convoluted. Just like one of those nesting Russian dolls, those Matryoshka dolls—one within another within another. All sense of order only a lie as another doll is revealed, or, in this case, as another doublecross unfolds.

And then, just as I had surmised, Arnold was off me. One second he was plowing me deep and yelping his mastery of me and the next he was gone—But only because one of the Turks, in regenerated heat, pulled him away from me and had him stretched out beside me on the carpet, on his back, his legs wide. And first the attacking Turk, turning on his own conspirator, had his mouth at Arnold's hole and then his cock inside Arnold's passage.

Another Turk was at me again now. He was kissing my mouth deeply, and I could taste the mix of aniseed and strong coffee in his mouth. I normally don't like the taste of aniseed, but the mixture of that with the coffee flavor and the essence of the Turk aroused me, and I started bucking against the Turk's cock, pulling him farther and farther inside me.

I could hear Arnold moaning beside me, being taken by a second Turk, just as another Turk also has appeared in my vision, pushed his thighs under my chest and has his cock in my mouth while the first Turk filled my ass with his rod and was pumping slowly. Thoroughly ready for this, I reached down and took the root of the young student's cock between my fingers and followed it inside my hole, opening myself wider for him. He had a hand around my cock, stroking me hard. I turned toward Arnold beside me, no longer fighting the invading Turks; lying back now and enjoying the debauching. I released the Turk's cock from my mouth, and turned closer to Arnold and we kissed deeply and listened to the pleased chatter of the Turks all around us. I went rigid and my kissing became frantic as I ejected my seed. The intensity caused Arnold to come as well to the delight of the Turks, who continued doing a round robin exchange of dicks in our holes.

* * *

Hours later, Harry and I, now locked in a dimly lit, windowless room off the courtyard, were waiting our turns once more, as we listened to the sounds of the Turks gangbanging Arnold once more in his own courtyard. I turned to Harry to apologize for setting all of this in motion.

Harry just gave out a low laugh, though. "God, Howard, my brains have gotten so fucked today that I can't be sure now who set this in motion. It just looks like, with all of the confusion of who is kidnapping and fucking who, most of us have gotten what we want."

"Most of us?" I asked warily, as I rose and moved over to the door and placed my ear to the wood. I could still hear Arnold grunting and groaning out there—and the Turks laughing.

"Yes," Harry answered. "I got out of Lebanon without needing a passport or being intercepted by the morals police—and I got a fantasy gangbang by a thundering horde of luscious Turks. And Arnold got you. There's only one thing missing."

"What," I asked absently, my ear still straining to hear sounds of the gang fuck, wondering how soon they would come for me again.

"What's missing is that you were interrupted in what you wanted to do with me, what you fell into all this planning to do. But we can remedy that. Turn around."

I did so, and I made out, in the dimness of the room, raised and spread legs, strong beefy thighs covered with downy blond hair—open wide to me.