by Young
Was it coincidence or Count Mario’s purposeful orchestration, I would never know. I was teamed with Siegfried for an intimate coupling photo session. When we met in passing after our three-way rendezvous, the German had been cordial. Siegfried had already downed several glasses of hard liquor to calm his nerves by the time we stripped bare. Whether he drank to mask his guilt or to calm his nerves, his phallus was already at attention before we laid hands on one another.
As soon as we began our provocative pose, his tongue was eager to pry open my mouth to receive him. I went with the flow. The photographer clicked away to obtain the best angle when Siegfried pinned me against an ornate pillar. Excited to witness our lubricious proclivity, Mario handed my Valet a cord to tie my hands above my head as the German’s pearly fangs sank into my tender neck. Like a vampire and his victim in heat, we moaned and groaned in ecstasy as our hardness massaged against one another.
Kalf watched with fury at our throes of passion. His indignation grew as Siegfried’s unbridled foreplay continued to titillate me. Like a hungry infant, the German clenched my buttocks to suck my bouncing propensity deep into his yearning mouth. His oral play elevated my vulnerability to amplified proportions. As his probing fingers explored my holy sanctum, lecherous arrows of fiery passion pierced through my irrepressible weakness. For a moment, I envisioned myself as Saint Sebastian; a saint, an angel, and a martyr, all rolled into one.
The Tunisian, no longer able to bear the sight of our fervid copulation stormed out of the premise. In the hope to un-fluster the teenager’s boiling emotions, Señor Triqueros and Andy followed the lad.
Neither photographer nor Siegfried made any effort to curtail the shoot. Instead, Mario coaxed us to greater arousal by encouraging the German to burrow his tongue into my derriere. I arched my hind to welcome him into my fold before I offered my succulence to his palpitating stiffness. He plowed into me with avidity.
The knowledge that Kalf was in a state of trepidation augmented my licentiousness. It also intensified my self-gratification. Was I obtuse to the feelings of others or was this perverseness innate in all humans? This is a question I had no answer to this day. The thing I was profoundly aware of was the emotional intensity I felt when the German fired his mastery into my hankering cloven. What I didn’t know then, was, he had plied me as his scapegoat for his fatal relationship. I was “the other man” - the one to blame. The German and the Tunisian don’t ask, never tell policy had jeopardized their relationship that was too late to salvage.
Before Siegfried released me, he whispered, “You’re a beautiful angel.” I did not respond. I was glad, he did not say, he was in love with me.
The Pandemonium
As I packed away the Count’s photography equipment after the shoot, a livid Kalf stormed into the prayer hall. He splattered a string of raging obscenities at both Siegfried and me before he kicked his boyfriend in the groin. The German howled in pain. The angry Tunisian headed in my direction before I could escape. My Valet was at the ready to block the madman from causing further injuries. Thanks to my beloved, I did not suffer any physical injuries, except for a series of verbal vulgarities that splattered like wildfire around the sacred hall. Siegfried swore the denouement of their relationship as he cupped his groin in agony. Kalf’s unruly insolence had us in shock.
To our surprise, the Count caught hold of the screaming Tunisian and planted a passionate kiss on the foul-mouthed lad. We watched in disbelief as the machismo photographer transformed the indignant Kalf into an obedient serf. Like a sacrificial lamb, he melted into the Italian’s arms and was ready to be possessed.
Seigfried broke the silence and hollered at his lover for being a wretched whore and pathological liar this side of the Maghreb before he stormed out of the mosque in a huff.
In truth, both parties were to blame. Rather than with honesty, their partnership was built on lustful possessiveness and distrust, and could never withstand the tornado that had just swept through the prayer hall. I was glad that we, E.R.O.S. recruits were taught to abide by our society’s honorable code - The truth will set you free.
After that tumultuous spectacle, the unamused and disapproving Ketchaoua clerics could not wait to shepherd us out of that historic structure. We were long gone before any devotees arrive at the venue where our flagitiousness had taken place a few hours earlier. By the time the call to prayer was broadcasted through the minarets speakers, our entourage was already aboard the السهم الثاقب (Piercing Arrow) and Sindbad to Morocco.
Our tongues wagged over the Count and Kalf’s carnal covetousness. For one, my Master, Tad, would not be a happy camper if he found out that the apple-of-his-eye had fallen head-over-heels with his bosom buddy. Our entourage speculated that their outrageous ménage à trois was doomed for failure since the trio were as promiscuous as one another. On the contrary, some of us surmised that it may work wonderfully because they could bask in their bacchanalian revelries.
While Andy and I were safe on the Sindbad, the Tunisian was on board the Piercing Arrow. As for Siegfried, he had disappeared post haste and left us to ponder his whereabouts. That was the last I saw of the German.
Second Week of August 2014
Andy’s Message to David and Me
David,
The relationships I had with my five charges were vastly different from yours. Although at times I wish Young hadn’t put his foot in his mouth, he was an angel. By and large, this ex-charge of mine was the best and most acquiescent Little-Brother under my care. We have our quirks and idiosyncrasies, and it is our imperfections that make us perfect.
Besides Young, Albert (another charge of mine) proclaims to have divine visions. Though I’m not a firm believer in the preternatural, I do believe in a higher power. Messages from the uncharted are not to be dismissed but decoded by the receiver.
Some people receive their communiqué through visions while others hear weird sounds. Even if the messenger or messengers are beyond my sagacious comprehension, I acknowledge all forms of higher emanations with an open heart and mind.
The years I was with Young, we spoke to several psychics, mystics, and clairvoyants. They unanimously informed me that my charge is from the angelic realm and I respect their dictums. Although Young can see angels and other mythical entities, I had never witnessed any paranormality. But I empathize with his preternatural sightings.
I like to hear Young’s take on this topic since he had had visions.
I look forward to your comments, David.
Yours,
Andy
Where Is The Love? (Chapter Twenty-Two)
“Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Second Week of November 1968
Sailing to Casablanca aboard Sindbad, Morocco
My Valet had a word with me as I watched the waves rolled by.
“What is going on between you and Professor Eberhardt?” my chaperone enquired.
I answered ignorantly, “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said. What’s going on between the two of you? There is more to your student/teacher relationship, isn’t there? I noticed his special farewell embrace with you. He seems reluctant to leave you,” Andy questioned.
I remained silent.
He resumed, “I can tell you are hiding a secret. You know I’ll find out sooner or later. You better fess up, boy,”
“Will you be angry with me if I tell you what transpired?” I replied culpably.
“It depends on what you’re going to tell me,” he expressed.
I snuggled into his arms and looked him in the eyes before I uttered, “I love you very much….” I trailed off since I was unsure how to paraphrase my delivery.
“That I know. And…,” my lover pressed.
I continued, “And…, I’m also in love with my erudite educator.”
Andy murmured impassively, “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
My lover listened attentively. After a long silence, he spoke. “Young, our relationship is built on integrity. Even though it came as no surprise, I respect you for telling me the truth. As you are aware, I am open to loving the people you love. There is no reason why the three of us cannot have a triplet affinity….”
I interjected, “Like we had with Oscar?”
He nodded before he resumed, “Is Curt open to such an arrangement?”
“I don’t know. We can ask my teacher when we see him in a few weeks,” I responded heedfully.
“Are you open to another trois affaire de coeur?” he inquired.
“I’m happy to give it another try,” I chirped before I added, “That is if you are okay with such an arrangement.”
He opined, “Although I like to have you for myself, I am open to the prospect of sharing our love with another if Curt is in accordance. I trust Eberhardt is an ethical man and will love you unconditionally like I do.”
“Let’s put forth this idea to him and see what he says,” I finalized.
Possessed by Love
The morning we arrived in Casablanca, Señor Triqueros gathered his students for our regular tutorials aboard Sindbad.
“I’ve invited a guest speaker to give us some insights on Maghrebian culture and romance,” he announced.
We looked around to see who the mystery rhetorician was. There was none other except our cerebral professor.
He continued, “Not only is our knowledgeable guest familiar with the Maghreb; he was also a fellow classmate of mine at the University of Paris-Sorbonne. This Belgian sociology educator is currently teaching at the newly opened Lycée Lyautey in Casablanca.
“He has agreed to enlighten the four of you on the topic of ‘Sexuality and Romance in Morocco.’ Join me to welcome Professor Boch Van-Damme.” Victor waved to a speedboat that had pulled up next to the Sindbad.
A suave looking man in his early thirties stepped aboard our yacht.
We applauded his entrance.
We shook hands before the Belgian positioned himself next to Triqueros.
The man began, “We, in the Western Hemisphere, seldom hear about romantic love in the other parts of the world especially in non-Western cultures. This misconception has led many to believe that romantic love is a western invention.”
He paused before he resumed, “Today’s lesson we are going to explore this rhetorical question from the Maghrebian Arab Muslim cultural standpoint. Let’s start with the Arab poetic tradition that had influenced European notions of courtly love. After that, we can examine the ideas of Muslim authors and scholars and their Islamic positions and influences about sexuality, love, and relationships.
He added, “Finally, we will search for evidence of these ideas in contemporary Maghrebian youth about their experiences of love; especially when marriages are often arranged by their parents as opposed to those desired by the couple and approved by their parents.
“It is a fact that when young women are strongly attracted to potential suitors, her female pragmatism often precedes romanticism. While her counterpart, the male, is more likely to be ‘possessed’ or ‘blinded’ by romantic love.”
Triqueros injected, “In our modern society, most people ‘fall-in-love’ before selecting a long-term partner, spouse or spouses. Although in most of the world’s cultural history, this has not been the primary criterion for marriage. Marriage was and still is an alliance between families.”
“Yet, the idea of romantic love is becoming an essential factor; not just in the Maghrebian Arab Muslim culture but across the globe. In the western part of the Arab world; Islam is pro-love and tolerant of sexuality when sanctioned by marriage,” Professor Van-Damme stated before he went on to correlate.
“A Tunisian Iman once proclaimed, ‘Unity is attained by the affirmation of Eros. God himself is a being in love with his own creatures. From the thing to the Supreme Being, love exists as a guarantee of unity.’ He then went on to declare that sexual pleasure in marriage is both a privilege and a duty. On conjugal bliss, he described this emotion as a foretaste of paradise and a proof of God’s love.
“On the other hand, Islamic accounts of love and sexuality often conclude that this divine model is seldom attained by humans. The rhetoric of love and erotic passion sanctioned by Islam has often led to the unleashing of excessive libidinal force, and to the subjugation of women as the objects of male lust.”
Victor chimed, “Doesn’t this subjugation turn the woman into a plaything, a doll? Does it not limit love to the ludic and reduces the wife to a woman-object; whose sole function is for the satisfaction of her husband’s sexual pleasure?”
Van-Damme nodded smilingly. He resumed, “This act does indeed reduce conjugal affection to mere pleasure. Whereas, desire is only an element to a larger equation. One often valorized the mother by stressing the child-bearing role of women.
“A contemporary Arab scholar once contends that the privileged and circumscribed role of the child-rearing Arab Muslim mother have created a cult of the mother being the modal personality styles in ‘Arab-Muslim’ societies.”
Triqueros questioned, “What are the consequences of this personality structure?”
Boch replied, “They include the different responsibility for control of one’s passions. The male is permitted freer rein, and in instances of fornication, the female is usually the one to blame. Since a mother-child bond holds the strongest tie in their society; women are idealized nurturers and sex-objects.
“You see, the mother-centered Arabian household challenges the male child within a world of women. A female world which he will eventually renounce. This early immersion within a society of mothers, aunts, and sisters have erotic implications. For example, the boy is taken to the hammam (public baths) by his mother. This and other experiences of physical intimacy with women leave a legacy of charged images that are evoked in the context of adult sexual activity; thus fabricating the ‘Arab woman as the queen of the unconscious. More than she is the queen of the home or of the night’.
“It is this ambivalent and primal femaleness which Arab scholars believe that the adult male faces in the Aisha Qandisha jinniya - the North African jinn-like being who possesses men and makes them her sexual slaves. Behind the idealized image of the pious and pure mother/sister is an antithetical fantasy of a fallen woman who is lustful, seductive, and dangerous.”
Emily commented, “Can you expand further on the Aisha Qandisha jinniya myth?”
Señor Triqueros remarked, “Please allow Professor Van-Damme to continue. I’ll tell you more about the jinniya in another tutorial.”
The Belgian recommenced, “Many Arab men are obsessed by the anti-wife, whom they seek in every possible form. From dancers, film stars, singers, prostitutes, to tourists and neighbors. The list goes on. This ludic and the severe disassociation continue and become a stumbling block to the sexual emancipation of men and of women within the Arab world.
“North African contemporary societies are experiencing a sexual and religious crisis as women move beyond their traditionally assigned roles; while the men resist this change.
“Nowadays, Arab females strive to renounce the illusory kingdom of their mothers and aspire to a more affirmative and positive mantle, rather than mythopoeic. She is determined to affirm her ability to give: like ‘I give love. Therefore I am love.’ Yet there is an ambiguity in the concept of female liberation as if the partners could be dissociated from the question. If Arab men are not already severed by his own masculinity, he could then free himself.”
Before Van-Damme could progress, our teacher conveyed, “Boch, can you enlighten us on the gender differences in contemporary Moroccan society, and the relation of these disparities to Muslim history and its modern political and economic conditions?”
The Belgian scholar answered earnestly, “The Moroccan sociologist Fatima wrote several famous works on this topic. She argues that gender politics are rooted in Islam, and it reveals the politic
al issues facing North African society today.
“She alleges that the conservative wave against women within the Muslim world is a defense mechanism against profound changes in the roles of the sexes and in the hypersensitive topic of sexual identity. She points to an accurate interpretation of this male conservatism, that often resort to women turning to magic and superstitious rituals. It’s an anxiety-reducing mechanism within the world of shifting, volatile sexual identity.
“She also asserts that in contrast to Muslim praise of legitimate sexual pleasure; conjugal intimacy threatens the believer’s single-minded devotion to God. Hence the ‘loving couple’ is dangerous to religious society, while many Muslim clerics assert that the true basis of Islam is unity through love – be it attainable or not. Fatima concludes that ‘the entire Muslim social structure is an attack on, and defense against, the disruptive power of female sexuality.’ Her argument comes from the concept of fitna (chaos, temptation, trial, enchantment or distress, that is often applied to fornication). This, she contends is the embodiment of a woman’s erotic potential for society to maintain its equilibrium. She went on to claim that from the time of the Prophet Mohammad; males have felt the need to veil and seclude women. And to circumscribe sexual activities with rule and regulations to shield men from women’s seductive potential. Therefore, she ascribes that female sexuality is the force that drives erotic relationships in heterosexual encounters, and it fits well with the role of romance and magic. She also implies that the male is simultaneously anxious about his physical yearnings, and the loss of autonomy. By casting the woman as the agent of unrestrainable lust, he projects his fears and desires onto the female.”