January 23, 2010:
Yesterday Nashwan wanted me to lie on the bed with my ass at the edge and my legs spread wide with my feet on the floor. This seemed to excite him and for once he found a position that didn’t cause some discomfort. He became very passionate kissing my back and neck and trying to kneel on the edge of the bed to fuck, but for some reason his passion subsided before he reached orgasm. He went into a depression and blamed me because he felt that he had failed. Last night he had five wanks. Today he asked for a massage. I massaged his back, his ass and thighs and then he turned over. I was kneeling above him easing the tension in his neck and shoulders when he put his arms around my neck and pulled me down on top of him. He pressed his face to mine and folded his legs over mine. We stayed in that position until his need subsided. I moved first and caressed his narrow hairy torso with my face and kissed his groin and the base of his dick that was rigid. ‘No’ he said, pushing me away ‘Suck my dick’ he responded beautifully to every caress and manipulation with fingers lips and tongue. I gave him an orgasm that caused him to cry out but before he had finished, he pushed me off saying ‘Quick Sebastian, spit it out.’ I have got a book from Claire about sex and the zodiac. Nashwan is Scorpio and it says that all Scorpios try to live their lives in denial of their bisexual nature. If gay Scorpio can accept his passive nature they can become truly capable lovers. Once free, gay Scorpio is very affectionate and he likes to be used as woman. Nashwan loves to play the girl but only if he’s drunk, but he seems to find most satisfaction in masturbation.
January 25, 2010:
Nashwan is working on the building sites and he catches a bus at 05:00 hrs. He is not getting home until quite late and I find that I miss him and get very anxious if he is late. I can’t find food that suits him and he often loses his meal after two hours in bed. His body is in pain because he is not strong enough to do the work he insists on doing. He is quite delicate and carrying steel rods all day is demanding. Nashwan was feeling the cold so we went to buy him a jacket. The only one he liked that fitted, was from the children’s section. I am glad to be alone all day but surprised how devastated I feel if he is more than one hour late.
January 29, 2010:
Yesterday, I bought Nashwan a bicycle. He wanted a new cell phone. The bike is probably a mistake; it is too heavy for him but the buses are few and far between and it seemed sensible at the time. He buys beer every day and seems to be spending more than I give him.
February 2, 2010:
The bike is mistake because coming home is mostly up hill and Nashwan is exhausted. Last night, he apologized for not wanting to fuck and he asked me to suck his dick. We didn’t get beyond the first stages of arousal because he was too tired. Then he became very worried in case he had a wet dream ‘Don’t worry’ I told him, gazing into his sad eyes running my fingers through his hair, ‘if your dick comes up just get into bed.’ Having fucked for a living Nashwan’s sexuality seems to be confused. He must need a well-earned rest. He did have a wet dream and was upset and blamed me. Watching Nashwan, after fucking, standing and trying to remove a condom without touching it, is a beautiful sight because he is so preoccupied, unself-conscious and so exquisitely put together. Once the condom is off, he shouts ‘Water Sebastian.’ I take the condom giving him the bottle of water and a towel. He pours the water over his dick that is no longer stiff but fully extended and then dries himself. Water seems to have magical properties for Muslims.
Today a new revelation came to light. As we are living together Nashwan is afraid of any show of intimacy, like sharing a cup or sitting together and he even refuses to let me finish his cigarette. He says, “That is for married couples not friends, Sebastian.” In addition, he is also terrified of sharing bacteria. Nashwan is a rent boy and has spent his working life up people’s asses but lives in fear of bacteria. Nashwan is not the boy to free me from a life time of impotence, denial and repression. He likes to spend Saturday night in the bars. Tonight, before leaving he put his arms around my neck and holding my eyes, smiling said, ‘You are a gay Sebastian?’ and then he gave me a kiss. He also tells me that he is deeply disturbed because he hasn’t fucked a woman for over a year.
I am suddenly in financial shit. I have just discovered that I must pay the service charge on my apartment and it comes to five thousand pounds for thirty months. It will take me three installments because I have got twenty thousand tied up that I don’t want to touch and only my pension. My tenant has been dropping the demands into his waste bin. I have had no warning and there is no explanation. I told the debt collectors, law firm, “I will gladly pay what I owe in full” and was told that the only charge is 100 pounds for their services. So, I agreed to pay the full five thousand pounds over the next three months and the interest charges are now frozen. What interest charges? That is the first I have heard of being charged interest.
February 10, 2010:
Two nights ago, Nashwan upset three young Greek men in a car. He was drunk and grumbling to himself when a car driven with drug induced panache nearly ran over him. The Greeks, built like young bulls running on raw testosterone got out of the car demanding to know what Nashwan was muttering about. He looked helpless, and fourteen years old, he could hardly stand, but continued muttering to himself. The Greek men with damaged pride were beyond reason. They grabbed Nashwan who kept muttering ‘shit’ to himself, a word he uses for both complimentary and derogatory purposes, demanding an apology. One member of the group who seemed to be accessible explained to me that Nashwan, “must never speak to a Greek man like that” I shrugged my dismay and said, ‘He’s drunk’ sense seemed to dawn but the other two were becoming incensed beyond reason. An old homosexual with an eastern boy could trigger unimagined gut prejudices. Nashwan was trying to appease his oppressors with little gestures, ‘Don’t touch me’ one screamed and they forced Nashwan to the floor. Nashwan was still muttering incoherently all he needed to do was to shut up. They left him alone and I tried to restrain him but he continued muttering, ‘Shit’. They had the deep conviction that Greek manhood must be defended, from the tiny immigrant who looks 14.
Once home Nashwan found they had torn his jacket and being forced unto his knees had damaged his new jeans. He was totally distraught and ashamed. He found a sharp pointed knife with a serrated edge and with the words; “I am from Iraq” and he left. Nashwan was intent on saving his face by slashing their throats. He spent all night searching every bar and one bouncer suggested that the toilets would be the best place to commit murder or permanent damage. I gather that when he is with his friends at the slightest provocation, knifes are produced to slash at one another. It seems that a few cuts will release injured male vanity and satisfy honor. He returned sober but his pride was deeply hurt and he accused me of not supporting him. Taking a breath, I said ‘All you had to do was shut up and, you must never take risks with people on drugs or alcohol’ but Nashwan was humiliated and could not be appeased or rational.
February 11, 2010:
Nashwan has been talking to friends in the park and discovered some facts regarding HIV and is now in a state of some distress. I gave him 100 euros and sent him to the hospital. First he told me that it cost forty euros and then later he told me that it was free. He is honest but I never saw my hundred euros. I have told him about my financial dilemma over service charges, I did not mention the 20 tied up in savings.
Nashwan has been boasting about his bike and new leather jacket. Now his Muslim friends are yet again accusing him of being gay. They know that he is living with an old man. Nashwan accused me, ‘You have made a lot of problems for me’ indignant, I replied, ‘you made your own problems by showing off.’ In addition, he must renew a permit for his continued presence in Greece. He tells me it will cost one hundred euros; he had that last week and spent it.
February 12, 2010:
Today I pay my rent; I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window after visiting the bank. I’m looking stressed and even crazy. Nashwan i
s dropping hints that I am tight with money, he is trying to help me save but only by cutting down on food not beer and he has begun giving me orders. I find him fascinating and I love watching him, but having lived as a rent boy seems to have destroyed any concept of values. He has no understanding of what is essential like saving or personal responsibility. He can earn more money with one fuck than some people earn in a day. When money is that easy to come by it has no value, there is no measurable means to evaluate worth. I believe if someone has a sexuality that is saleable; the first requirement is a good savings account because the commodity has limited life.
February 13, 2010:
Nashwan now claims that he does not like democracy and admires Hitler, and Saddam is his hero. He tells me that the east has plans to destroy every western city and he can’t wait for the west to be destroyed. Nashwan cries with emotion if I play the piano and he is totally enthralled by one Greek reality program that wallows in morbid sentimentality.
I think he was having a bit of fun, but I detected how envy disillusionment and a feeling of helplessness can make people in Nashwan’s predicament very vulnerable to anybody who apparently offers a solution, hope or action. Dissatisfaction and boredom seem to be a lethal cocktail; people need hope contentment or fear to accept their allotted fate.
I believe if Nashwan became legal and accepted by the west he would be content. In conversation, he uses the word democracy about all freedom, benefits and progress. The truth is, Nashwan does not belong to either the East or the West and, he feels, perhaps with justification, rejected by both. It is tragic, he would love to have a job and be accepted but beer is his problem.
Today Nashwan in accusing tones said, ‘I know you Sebastian, no sex no money’ I wanted to say, “You can take a rent boy off the street but you can’t take the street out of the rent boy” but I said, ‘I have money problems and what happened to the one hundred euros I gave you for a H.I.V test because you were so worried and upset.’ He didn’t seem to understand. Tomorrow he leaves for Athens and that will cost a lot. I am having problems with the noise of the television so I turn the adverts down but he likes them. He likes me to lose my temper and tell him to “Get your own fucking television.” That makes him smile and very affectionate. His idea of food is rice or lentils with a stock cube and he wants to cook for me.
February 15, 2010:
Before Nashwan left I told him, ‘I am sorry Nashwan, I have made a mistake, I think, I love you but you are not gay.’ I gave him two hundred euros and told him to look for work in Athens. I want my life back and he was right, if the sex was good the cost would be irrelevant. I find his world of porn videos, advertising and music intolerable but I still find him fascinating, beautiful and in great need of tolerance, care and understanding. We talk for hours and despite his limited English, his bright mind finds ways of explaining even the most obscure concepts.
After a disagreement, he always says, ‘I am sorry Sebastian, I make mistake’. Before leaving, Nashwan said, ‘Sebastian I love you, I am gay and I have done nothing but gay system for ten years.’ I was sitting and he put his arm around my head and I held my face against his thin malleable body, ‘No my friend, you are only half gay and that is always a problem’ ‘No Sebastian, I have no problems being gay. I have no father and I love you, I am donkey and I am very sorry’ after a long silence Nashwan said, ‘I am very happy with you, I eat meat everyday but when you tell me to go, I will leave.’
He left to buy his ticket and I discovered that I had ‘Creamed my underpants.’ When Nashwan returned, he was smiling and said, ‘Sex system Sebastian’ and he lay naked on my bed with a very hard erection. ‘I want blowjob, I don’t like fucking system’ he watched his video of a black man with a colossal dick fucking a white woman up the ass. He left two hours early to catch the ferry without eating. So, it is emotional situations that turn me on, does this mean that I must contrive emotional dramas if I want to ‘get off’.
February 24, 2010:
Nashwan is returning tomorrow, he went to Athens to renew his pink card deliberately early because they can be canceled if he’s late. They told him to come after the renewal date. I had to send money for he’s ticket, there is a strike and I don’t have a clue when he’s arriving. He told me, 17:00 hrs. Tomorrow, but the ships are all on strike.
February 25, 2010:
Nashwan arrived as he predicted. He had caught some ferry that left before the strike began but he must have visited every island in Greece. It was a cheap ticket and the journey took a very long time. Nashwan was gone ten days and it cost me five hundred euros. He told me he had employed a lawyer and came back with a new cell phone. It seems a bit expensive since he stayed with friends and hardly eats. He was drunk when he arrived and held me very tight for a long time. I had missed him; I had been lonely but I am still looking stressed.
March 5, 2010:
I took Nashwan to see ‘Avatar’. I have seen it three times now. Nashwan was not impressed by 3D and said the film was ‘Shit’. I don’t know if he approved or not, I suspect that because it is not in the Quran he dismissed it as ‘American propaganda’. He did not seem to be aware of any metaphor in the film concerning America exploiting countries for their wealth. Perhaps he could not see beyond the aliens that vaguely resembled cats.
March 8, 2010:
Nashwan is visiting friends in some village and has taken a picture of himself playing my piano, what is he trying to tell them? I was walking in this ancient town when the soldier I use to meet in the Hamam saw me and ran after me. Standing, the way he does, legs apart smiling, his eyes looking directly into mine while touching his erection, he demanded, ‘I need massage’. He followed me at a discrete distance.
Once inside he stripped naked and lay face down on my bed, legs spread wide. I covered his back with oil and he picked his ass up with the words ‘I have a very wide ass.’ I covered my fingers with more oil and lubricated his anus. He put two hands on his buttocks and pulled his cheeks wider and said, ‘Push’ three fingers slid into his anus and, he’s right, he does have a wide ass. ‘I needed this, keep pushing’ I ran three fingers around his sphincter, stretching it wider and he groaned, so I pushed hard against his prostate.
Suddenly satisfied he turn over, the perfection of his dick always pleases me. I asked, ‘Do you want to fuck? because I really like your dick.’ he thought I meant him and holding my eyes with total assurance he picked his knees up, holding them wide with his hands and he offered me his ass. Then he rested his legs over my shoulders and relaxed completely, his ass near my dick. My fingers found his prostate again and I started to wank him gently. We changed position and I sucked the end of his dick brining him smoothly to an easy climax. He wanted to watch his sperm to shoot all over his chest. He kept his blue eyes on mine and then by some unspoken understanding he turned over and offered me his ass again. We stayed in that position for a long time; kneeling between his legs I caressed his beautiful back, generous ass and muscular thighs.
Suddenly satisfied, he sat up and business like demanded my cell phone number. He is now a professional soldier; he has returned to the army and made it clear to me that he wants a regular arrangement for guaranteed uncomplicated sex. It does not seem to have occurred to this man that he is arranging a homosexual relationship.
March 12, 2010:
There is an exhibition of eastern carpets so I took the carpet that mother bought shortly after my retirement. It came from an auction of carpets collected by Pakistani dealers from Persia. It was the most beautiful carpet in the auction and cost two hundred and fifty pounds plus VAT. It glowed with a soft sheen and authenticity. The exhibition is arranged by one of the top dealers in Athens. He told me that my carpet is Kurdish and made on the Russian boarders. Being a collector’s item and made entirely from undyed goat hair, it is worth five thousand euros. If he finds a customer, he will arrange to sell it for me. He can’t afford to buy it. I brought it from England to put into Christos gallery. When I asked h
im not let his dog sleep on my carpet, he replied, ‘It is a very clean dog’ and I replied, ‘I don’t doubt it, but it is still a dog’ Christos went on to explain how ‘carpets Absorb a room, they are living things’ unkindly I answered ‘Exactly, I don’t want my carpet absorbing your dog.’ Christos was looking very ill, he agreed to move it and died two days later.
March 14, 2010:
Nashwan has left his job. He and his friends left because their Greek boss shouts for no reason. He is owed a lot of money and will probably never get paid, Nashwan is from a good family and his brothers are teachers. He sold his own house to raise the money necessary to return to Europe. His life has been night clubs and a gay porn cinema in Athens, where he presumably found clients. I talk about the vast civilization and opportunities available in the west and how he has been wasting his life and his time. I tell him he came to Europe for the wrong reasons. He didn’t seem to understand but his reply is still surprises me ‘Sebastian I know I drink and I am a bad Muslim but I tell you, I am not hypocrite.’ Sex for Nashwan is about money or getting rid of his semen, I told him about relaxation, pleasure, sharing and even loving, but he seems to be afraid of commitment, his vulnerability and his own sexuality.
March 15, 2010:
Today Nashwan let me caress his body, he groaned and squirmed with pleasure picking up his knees he let me caress his ass, balls and thighs. He allowed me to make love to his body and enjoy the delicacy of his form, caressing the fine hair that covers his torso. I sucked his dick while holding the cheeks of his ass and he became very passionate. He wrapped his legs around my body and held my head as I sucked his dick and balls. He then tried very hard to achieve an orgasm, pushing his ass against my dick he wanked himself, eventually achieving orgasm but there was no ejaculation. He became very worried and tried to have a piss but found he couldn’t and now he’s convinced that he’s damaged for life. I believe that Nashwan is afraid of being my boyfriend because he is passionate and could be a volcano of lust, if he ever lost control.
The Hamam Diaries Continued Page 19