Tangier Season

I went more often than he did. And it was in going alone that I hooked up with a young, native excavator, Karim, who seemed to be more interested in me than in his work. He gave me doe-eyed gazes whenever I came to the dig—and both those looks and his youthful, sultry beauty brought to mind Billy's pliant houseboy, Hasan. It wasn't long until my visits to the site included a visit to a grotto on the beach below the dig, where, holding him in a close embrace, listening to him gasp and moan, I excavated Karim's anal passage with slow, deep, loving strokes.

It was a chance to release myself and take care of my needs without scrutiny from the supposed straight-laced view of sexuality of Lord Harkwood. Or so I thought. I thought it until the night I woke from my sleep in his villa to the sound of music and traced it to the villa's banquet room opening onto a terrace over the Mediterranean. There, from the shadows, I watched one of the houseboys, Ahmed—and, surprisingly, Yousef from the ship—dancing naked in front of Harkwood, as he sat, robe raised to his waist, stroking an erection, and watching the dance. The dance concluded with Yousef sitting in Harkwood's lap and fucking himself on the old man's cock.

It was only then, when I looked to see where Ahmed had gone, that I saw Billy Bowles. At the same time I saw that there were restraint handles on the wall of the banquet room. Bowles was tying Ahmed to the wall. He had begun to lash Ahmed with a cane when he turned at the gasping sound I must have made at seeing him and realized I was there in the shadows.

I had a head start on him, but he was faster than I was. He brought me to ground in the middle of one of the back bedrooms, landing on my back as I scrabbled along on all fours. He didn't push me all the way to the floor. He wanted me on all fours. He raised the cane and snapped it down, again and again, as I writhed under him, begging him for mercy, but going hard for him and going soft for him inside. As he thrust inside me, my channel walls expanded with the invasion and began undulating over the penetrating cock. He held me up on all fours as he rode my ass and lashed out at my flanks with the cane. He was in high heat and seed me in a flood of semen again and again and again, as I lay there trembling, totally open to him, wanting what he was giving me.

He stayed the night, pinning me to my bed. When I woke in the morning, he was gone. As I passed Uncle Sydney's bed chamber, the door was open. He and Yousef, both still asleep, were in each other's arms in the bed. So much for any wonder on why Lord Harkwood never failed to take in the fall Tangier season.

* * * *

Lord Harkwood had taken me to a Turkish bath in the old, Medina, section of Tangier. Now that he was out in the open with me—and me with him—there was no hiding of Yousef in his bed and Ahmed in mine. Thus, the bath he took me to was one of special preferences. When we entered the waters of the pool, each with the personal attendant we had picked out of a lineup of nubile young men, I was surprised to see Mr. Anderson already there, sitting on a bench running around the rim of the pool but below water level. One of the attendants was sitting in his lap, facing away from him, and rising and falling on the American's cock.

We merely nodded to each other as Lord Harkwood and I settled beside him and each of our attendants took up the same position his was taking. We grunted and groaned through our separate ejaculations in the passages of our attendants and then, nearly simultaneously, rose up out of the water to sit on the rim of the pool as our attendants sat below us, each taking his assigned cock in his mouth and giving us head.

It was more comfortable talking to each other now, which we did, none of us apparently embarrassed at finding the other in a servicing facility such as this, with a young man sucking our cocks to the capability of a second coming.

"Mr. Anderson has a proposition for you, Gregory," Lord Harkwood said to me. "That's why we've met here."

"Oh?" I said, turning to the American. Did Uncle Sydney want to send me across the ocean? Was he afraid I'd inform Aunt Margery about his activities here in Tangier?

No, it was nothing like that.

"I want you to marry my daughter, Amelia," Anderson said. "She's a handful and she fancies you."

"Marry your daughter?" I asked. "Under these circumstances? What the three of us are doing here? What it obviously means?"

"I don't care who else you fuck," Anderson said. "Both Sydney and I have made accommodations to that. You can too."

I turned and looked at Uncle Sydney for guidance.

"It's what you need to do," he said simply. "It's what I did at your time of life. You need the domestic life. You need heirs. And you need camouflage. As you can see, I have managed to do as I like. You can do as well. And you need the financial backing. I won't be here forever. As soon as I die, Margery will go directly back to the States and take her money with her. What will you do without the allowance I give you? What will your mother do for financial support?"

"You want to buy me for your daughter?" I blurted out, turning back to Anderson. He was engaged at the moment in the final stages of an ejaculation in his attendant's mouth, though, so, after he'd done that, I had to repeat the question.

Apparently not seeing anything wrong with that, Anderson said, "Yes, precisely. She wants you. My houseboy, Elias, is outside of the baths. He will take you to my villa after we are done here. I am going out to the grottos with your uncle for the night. He has special entertainment laid on. You have all night alone with Amelia in my villa. I assure you that she will receive you. Make her happy—all night—and propose to her in the morning. Tomorrow afternoon, I'll write you the first check. There is a ring there too for you to give to her. She picked it out before we left New York."

So the world tour had been to acquire a husband for Amelia—and she had decided that would be me.

I went to the Andersons' villa straight from the baths. I made Amelia happy, and she said yes to everything. She loved the ring, as I knew she would; after all, she had picked it out, just as she had picked me out.

* * * *

Uncle Sydney wanted to visit the archaeological dig three days later. I had only been back to his villa for a day, having been captive in Amelia's bed for two nights, the second night being disconcerting, as her father came in the room to watch me fucking her and then asked me to come to his room and fuck him—which I did, as the paid-for toy I was. Sydney looked a little poorly when I returned and made some remark about having enjoyed himself a bit too much. Yousef was walking around with welts on his back, and I wondered if my uncle had graduated to rough sex or if Billy had been there.

At the site, I went looking for Karim while my uncle went into one of the cave tombs covered by his firman. I didn't find Karim, and Lord Harkwood hadn't reappeared from the tomb for longer than I thought he'd be. I went to explore and found them, lying on top of a stone sarcophagus. Karim, a scared expression on his face, was lying, naked, his legs spread, on his back. Sydney, quite dead, was lying on top of him, his trousers around his ankles, his flaccid cock no doubt still inside Karim's passage.

Needless to say, I didn't tell the world the circumstance of Lord Harkwood's passing, nor did I fuck Karim that day. We had both recovered by the second day and I brought him up to the villa to help console me.

I was surprised as hell to find out that this made me Lord Harkwood now. I hadn't really given that I thought. When I did give it a thought, I realized that the land taxes for Falconcroft were mine now and that moneybags Margery would be packed and gone before I got back to England to bury Uncle Sydney in the family crypt.

Amelia and I got married before I departed by ship to return Sydney's cremation urn to England. William Bowles was my best man for the wedding ceremony. He also was best man for both Amelia and me on the wedding night, saddling up behind me while I was fucking Amelia, and then fucking her himself afterward—but taking me away for the night. Amelia didn't seem to mind that arrangement a bit.

One thing I knew for sure; I was going to continue to observe the Tangier season.