Early spring time in Tehran is not a festive occasion anymore because everybody is out of town. Streets are clear of any traffic and there is no trace of the usual confusion of people moving around. Given the fact that nobody is available, the old tradition of “Did o Bazdid” has petered out long ago. So if you want to stay in Tehran you have to find a whole lot of DVDs to watch or go shopping or spend the time in the passionate embrace of a man. So I thought maybe now that I have a lot of free time on my hand I had better write a little more of my adventures for you.
This morning when I opened my mailbox I found responses to my previous post about my affair with Eski and read them all. There are a small number of people who still doubt about the genuineness of the whole thing. Some believe I am a man and I am making fun of them. Anyway, as I told you once, names are the only parts of my stories that are slightly changed for the sake of anonymity. For example, although the nickname “Eski” was correct, the name Eskandari was a converted name of the guy and very close to his real name.
Betty from Oakland asks a very fundamental question. Before getting on with the rest of the story, I would like to elaborate on her question. She asks : “I simply don’t believe you could have orgasms with all of your partners. I have been married for 15 years and I love my husband dearly but I still don’t know what it is.”
I could reply in a private email but since it is a major problem for women let me explain it here.
Betty, you do not enjoy sex, you endure it. You are a victim of having the wrong partner at the wrong time and place. It is a duty to fulfill, not an instinctive adventure. You are a victim of conjugal rape. If you ask for sex and want it with each and every cell in you body, expect it and try to get it no matter the price. Then you will never miss a small fraction of a moment of its pleasure. You never create the sex situation because you are stuck with how, when and where to do it. I bet your hubby tells you what position he likes and how much spreading of your legs is sufficient. Loving someone is different from being excited by him. I love my dad but the idea of seeing him naked is revolting to me.
The first step is to want someone, your husband or anybody else. Then go for it. Strive for getting your hands on him. Show your assets to the guy and make him notice you. Create the sex atmosphere. Be innovative and make suggestions. I am a hundred percent sure you are shy about sex and you never play an active role in the whole process. Be aggressive. Try to make your partner understand that taking pleasure from sex is your right and you need it and if you cannot get it at home you will find it somewhere else.
I am never chosen by my partners because it will turn out to be a total waste of time. Instead I pick them out and I always try to find people who excite me. For instance I have a big craving for blue colored workers. I always look at cab drivers from behind my sunglasses and I admit many times they excite me. Sometimes you have to look for sex in some of the most unexpected places. In London I frequented a beauty saloon where a guy named Sid worked. I could not help being near him and when he touched my shoulders or neck while cutting my hair my nipples would go hard. Unfortunately he turned out to be gay and all my efforts in taking him to bed were futile. But the excitement remained long after I got wind of his true sexual orientation. Once I bet a friend of mine I could straighten Sid if I was ever given a chance.
Talking about Sid reminds me of Rock Hudson. Of course when this guy passed away I was a youngster but thanks to the wonders of modern times and all these movie channels and DVDs, I fell in love with him quite easily. I have most of his movies at home and I can’t take my eyes off him on the screen, even though all of us know he was gay. I recommend you to listen to his voice. Ah. He has such a sexy voice. I can go on listening to his voice 24 hours a day. Recently I found his 1970s series “McMillan and Wife” in Tehran and I actually devoured all the seasons in less than a month. God knows how much I love to be in Sally’s place and sleep under the same sheet with this gorgeous man. What I mean is to make you pay attention to people and try to find things in them that excite you. Try to fantasize about sex and when you encounter a real subject be aggressive and go for it. If I ever find a Rock Hudson look alike I will give my right arm to get him to bed and then I will enjoy every second of sex. Got it?
To get on with my story after my lovely Eski, I found a guy that I would like to call Sharif because this name is similar to his real name. He was an engineer who worked in a construction project in Khuzistan. Tall, lean and unmarried, he was 4 years my junior. I slept with him only one night. You cannot call him a handsome man but that doesn’t mean that he is not attractive. He was a shy man, wringing his hands repeatedly and stammering while answering your question. Not easy to make eye contact with. I admit I was not attracted to him at first and I didn’t know him much before our night together and I never saw him afterwards. But the whole experience was pleasant and fun to remember. He was not a new project for me to pursue, just a windfall that I enjoyed for a whole night.
I went to a party one night. I didn’t know many of the guests and our host was a friend of my cousin. I noticed a few attractive men in the room but I couldn’t muster a passion for any of them. A guy in a smartly tailored suit eyed me suggestively but deep inside I knew he must be a jerk. I always trust my female instincts. I had worn a navy blue dress with chiffon borders along with a silk matching scarf to cover part of my cleavage. Remember, show your assets but not all of it. The subject of my dress soon prevailed in the small circle of people around me and I told them I have a wonderful tailor in Tehran. But I added the fact that I had a problem finding jackets here because all the jackets I saw had defective collars. The collar is the most essential part of a coat and when it is bad the whole material is ruined. Sharif volunteered by saying he agreed and even jackets that were made for men didn’t have good collars. I found myself talking to him for a few minutes and I noticed he was shying away from making eye contact with me. He told me he was in Tehran for a few days and had to get back to Dezful very soon. I realized it could be a new harmless partner who would go back to his normal life and wouldn’t bother me in the future. He was very thin but his hands were white and beautiful. There was a trace of mischief around the corner of his lips when he wanted to hide his smile. His face looked a little harsh and his black eyebrows connected with a thin layer of hair. That gave him a look of a scowling person but his gentle eyes and his soft-spoken manner betrayed this frown. The more I talked to him the more I wanted to taste him.
I wanted to see him and if possible have him before he went away to his job. So I thought about my various telephone number exchange techniques. But I did it childishly and he caught my real intention and smiled knowingly. I said I liked the collar of his jacket and since he was sensitive about the matter too I asked if his tailor could make jackets for women and if so could he introduce me to his tailor?
I was sorry for this goof instantly but I could do nothing to whitewash it. I think my blush was giving me away and I hoped none of the nosy women around heard me. This time his eyes made direct contact with mine. He came closer and told me in a more quite tone that he could ask his tailor for me if I wanted to.
This ignited my passion and it was the spark that I needed. I smiled too and looked away. I think he shed some of his inhibitions right there because for the rest of the evening we played a careful game of cat and mouse. At about 11 I excused myself and asked my host to leave. He was somewhere in the balcony and when I got out of the room he came forward to say goodbye by reaching out his hand to shake mine.
According to the ways of my upbringing a lady should be the first to reach out for a handshake but I never refuse men who do not respect social protocols. When his hand touched mine he pressed a piece of paper into my palm and smiled. Nice try for a shy guy. Smiling back, I got the paper and hid it in my other hand. I left the party and went straight home and into bed. I wished I could have someone in bed with me that night. I decided to call him in the morning because he was flying back to his work in a couple of days. In order to prevent masturbation I slept on my stomach, rubbing my hips on the mattress from time to time. It is a good release technique. It gives you lovely ripples of pleasure but you don’t have to put your fingers inside your vagina.
At 11 in the morning I called him. He picked up the phone with excitement but had to pause to change his location. I guessed he didn’t want his family to know who he was talking to. Then he asked me why I didn’t call him the night before. Smartly I said I didn’t think his tailor would be open at midnight. We chatted for a while and made an appointment to meet in a boutique in Mohseni Square in the afternoon.
At 4 o’clock inside the boutique I saw him fooling around with some trousers, waiting for my arrival. He had jeans and a light brown sport jacket and he looked much better than the night before. I thought the anticipation of having sex with me had something to do with the gaiety that emanated from his face. We looked around the boutique for a while, talking about things, picking clothes and taking them to the dressing room to examine. I bought a skirt and we left. Then we decided to go somewhere to have tea. He left his car and came with mine to a small café in the corner of Zafar where we sat on a bench and ordered tea and cake. Soon I learned he was living with his mother and sister and his house was not so far away from mine. In less than ten minutes I told him I wanted to spend the night with him, in my place and he agreed. I thought I saw a trace of a shiver in his hand when he called his mother to tell her he would spend the night with his friends.
I took the shivering hand and squeezed it. Touching his skin made me feel horny all of a sudden. I wanted to see what he had beneath that shirt. He came forward to say something into my ears and his warm breath made me hot too. So he knew his lessons and was not inexperienced. I wanted to kiss him and taste his mouth right there but we had to wait for the night to fall to go home. We drove for a while, talking and touching hands. I put my hand on his knee after changing the gear to show him I was not a passive lover. I squeezed his flesh and felt him cringe with pleasure.
It was a few minutes past seven when we arrived in my place. Quietly I took him inside and led him upstairs to my room. Then I came downstairs to look in on my dad. He was behind his desk reading something and making sings on some paper. I went forward and kissed his forehead. I spent about 5 minutes in his room, telling him I would make his supper ready in half an hour. He was busy with his papers and barely understood what I said.
I left the room and went straight to my room and locked the door. It was quite safe for me having a man in the house since my dad’s heart condition wouldn’t allow him to climb the stairs and he rarely does so. Sharif was a little fidgety, sitting in my bed looking at the floor or something when I went in. He got to his feet, staring at me, waiting for my next move. I went forward and kissed his cheek, hanging my arms around his neck, looking into his eyes. Then our lips met and a long passionate kiss followed which left both of us numb with stars moving around our heads. He put his hand around me, fumbling with the hollow of my back.
He took charge and dropped me on the bed kissing me with that delicious mouth over and over again, pressing me in his hard embrace. He was working his mouth on my neck when I pushed him away to make some space to take off my top. Seeing me in my black bra made him mad and he started to nibble at my tits over the bra, murmuring things. Then he released my tits from under the bra without unfastening it and started nibbling them. I unbuttoned his shirt during our necking to see his thin body. He was so thin that I could see and count his ribs. About ten minutes later I reached for his cock and touched it from outside his pants. I wanted to see it and touch it. I unzipped his fly and he helped me to take out his penis and soon it was in my hand. It was by far the most beautiful part of his body. I had it my hand, jerking it up and down, making him crazy with each movement of my hand. It was very white and very long. Like a missile ready to launch. His warhead was like a beautiful piece of velvet in my hand. His launching pad was surrounded with a lovely triangle of black bush.
I put my lips on the warhead and soon I had his cock in my mouth. Going up and down on its lovely skin, savoring every moment of it. When I licked the cylindrical body of his missile I made sure I could kiss and smell his lovely bush too. I love to rub my face against a man’s bush. In less than one minute he exploded inside my mouth. I could feel him coming with a savage jerk of his hip upward and then I tasted his cream in my mouth. He didn’t have much sap and I could easily capture it without much effort. I swallowed it all but continued with my sucking. He was pushing my head away but I told him to wait and let me do my job. I took off his trousers and shorts and socks and put him on my bed. Then crept between his knees and sucked on his missile for another ten minutes. He was caressing my hair with both hands, jerking away his head to right and left. Once in a while I would go down to lick his foreskin, inside of his thighs before returning to the launching pad again. Then I got up and adjusted my dress and told him to wait for me.
I locked my room from the outside and went downstairs. On my way to the kitchen I went to the toilet to see any traces of cum on my face or neck and I saw none. Then I washed my hands because I didn’t want my dad to eat the food mixed with my lover’s cock smell. I made my dad’s supper ready and asked him to come to the kitchen. I sat there with him and talked to him while he ate and left. I washed the dishes and went to my dad for a kiss goodnight. He was listening to some old records while reading marking things again.
Then I went to my room. Sharif was standing naked in the dark waiting for something to happen. Without a single word I locked the door and undressed. Then I drew the curtains and turned on the bedside lamp. His cock was erect and he was eating my bush with his eyes. Then I lay on my back on the bed and opened my legs with my knees slightly in the air. In a jiffy he was lying on top of me and his long missile was making a long journey into my tunnel.
I kept him awake the whole night and we made love at least 10 times that night. He was sore around his warhead in the morning and I kept sucking it with the balm of my mouth to soothe the skin. I could feel his fatigue after each orgasm and I had to encourage him by kissing his body from head to toe.
I asked him to leave before sunrise and he left for Khuzestan the next morning. Sometimes we talk on the phone and sometimes exchange emails. During these conversations he told me about his first lovemaking at the age of 17 with a neighbor’s daughter. He took the girl’s virginity and had an affair with her for about two years. Then he had a few prostitutes and right now there is a young prostitute in Dezful who helps him unload his passion every once in a while. But he had never had anything like his experience with me in his whole life. Ten orgasms just in one night.
