The Hamam Diaries Continued

by Sebastian J Stone

  March 16, 2010:

  I have a persistent cold, it has lasted so long I have put myself on antibiotics and now Nashwan’s caught the same cold. He was given some of his wage and with great pride went and bought us a DVD player. He watches sex videos all the time. I fail to see the point of a collection of porn since all the CDs are the same, devoid of all artistic merit and interest. He also has a collection of quite good action CDs and one of Borat. He likes Borat, he knows the film by heart and laughs at all the comments on his own culture but the comments on American culture are not always so easy for him to understand and he failed to grasp the irony of all the references to Jewish culture.

  Miss America lent me an artistic DVD on hippy American life but Nashwan couldn’t watch it because it showed naked men. One boy sucked his own dick and Nashwan had to run out side because he was nearly sick. We also watched ‘A Fish Called Wanda.’ When I saw it in the cinema I was paralyzed with laughter but Nashwan could not relate to it in any way. I didn’t laugh this time but is still amusing. Nashwan is hanging around the house when my Pauline comes to clean. Last week, she tells me that he tried to give her ten euros. Pauline is a cockney in her fifties with Gypsy origins, a very ample good looking woman who is popular with the young soldiers. In typical out spoken cockney style, using a hectoring tone she said “what the fuck is this, keep it, I don’t want your fucking money.” Nashwan was hoping for a fuck. He tells Pauline that I am gay and he is only staying with me until he finds his own place. I help Pauline because she has money problems. She has a very beautiful daughter who is a heroin addict and one grandchild. Pauline is paying off a bank loan, and she will repay me when she takes out her next loan. These people seem to think that living in debt is normal. She will pay me if nothing goes wrong. Nashwan tells me that he has the offer of a room where he once lived and that one of his clients is prepared to pay his rent.

  March 19, 2010:

  Today I told Nashwan that I want him to leave because I don’t have money and he is more likely to find work if he goes back to his village. He didn’t understand so I told him to go and he looked terrible and totally broken. I showed him my Greek bank book that is empty. He apologized for not making love telling me that he’s too stressed. ‘It has nothing to do with sex my friend I have no money to give you and you must find work.’ His life is very sad and he has not been sensible, he lost thousands in the Casino when he should have been taking care of his mother and saving for his own future. It is very strange to us but being a rent boy does not seem to concern him. As I so often hear from other rent boys, “I fuck the gays for money” and that seems to absolve them from all accountability. Nashwan is a simple devout Muslim boy with no concept of personal responsibility. He has wasted ten years of his life in Europe and now sadly, he no longer belongs to Iraq or to Europe.

  Today, Savas told me two stories indicative of Greek sexuality. The first was of a young friend and lover who was also a solider. He brought his girlfriend and asked Savas if they could use his room for sex and if his girlfriend could use the toilet. Savas said, “No” and the boy persisted, “but I feel horny and I want her.” The girl overheard the conversation and confronted Savas with the words “what’s wrong with you, are you gay?” And Savas replied with relish “Yes, I was fucking your friend on this very bed, only last night.”

  The next story is very strange. There was once an old man famous for his thick dick. One policeman wanted the old man to fuck him and they had sex one night. Some days later the policeman demanded a regular arrangement, but the old man declined. The policeman took out his gun and demanded to be fucked. Afterwards the policeman then put his gun to the old man’s head and made him confess to being gay and then the policeman fucked the old man at gun point. The policeman who was very macho became obsessed by the old man’s dick and began stalking him, demanding to be fucked more than once every day, at gun point.

  March 21, 2010:

  Last night Nashwan came home very late. He was drunk and had even missed his favorite soap. My heart ached for him, he looked so totally broken. ‘What’s wrong with me? I am not a pousti’ he demanded.

  Concerned, I tried to assure him, ‘I have never said you are’ but it seemed to be my fault.

  He continued, ‘You have made me many problems Sebastian’--- ‘No my friend, you made your own problems.’

  He produced a knife and then taking off his jacket off he pretended to destroy it ‘I will show you what I think of your leather jacket’ and he then made a pretense of slicing the jacket to pieces. Having made his point, he was suddenly embarrassed. He had used the handle of the knife to make his dramatic gesture. He put the knife away and relieved I went to finish cooking dinner.

  When I returned, Nashwan was curled up on his bed crying. He said, ‘You don’t love me Sebastian’ I sat close to him and held him while he cried ‘Yes I do Nashwan.’

  March 22, 2010:

  This morning Nashwan apologize and I shrugged as if nothing happened but, all the knives are hidden in the flower bed. He has arranged with his friend to move back to his village. I said, ‘I am sorry, I will miss you but you will find work.’ I added, ‘we are still friends but I don’t even have the money for your bus fare.’ I helped Nashwan pack and he left with more luggage than he brought. He is returning tomorrow for his bike. I discovered that my official title is (His girlfriend’s father). He reminded me of his constant need for sex as I helped him carry his luggage to meet his friends. He is a good and honest boy considering his profession. When he can be himself, he is an easy companion, he has a temper but also a sense of humor and he can be very loving. I am missing him and he will be arriving at his new apartment any minute. He allowed his friends to see me, a car full of small muscular boys with wide smiles. He has survived ten years without my help so I am sure he will manage. Before leaving, in a very positive tone he asked, ‘Sebastian I have to know, do you love me?’ he held me very tight for a long time than we left the house to meet his friends.

  March 30, 2010:

  A few days ago, I visited the Hamam. The Hitler with the huge ass left with a very sturdy Greek from Athens. A Greek man in his thirties was making it clear that he wanted a massage. The spy from the Mayor no longer checks on me constantly, but she sent the fireman anyway. I was in full view from the door and I gave the fireman a look implying, what were you expecting? And he gave me a smile in acknowledgment. The Greek had an erection even before I started his massage. He had a normal sized dick but thick. He loved being massaged so I soaped his dick and sensed his relief as he spread his arms and legs wide. I caressed his stomach and thighs adding extra shampoo to soap his balls. He said, ‘Carry on’ and I caressed his genitals with both hands. He then took hold of his dick and started ‘beating his meat’. ‘Bashing the Bishop’ or as I heard recently, ‘beating the clown’. He did not orgasm but achieved a degree of satisfaction and then showed me a collection of condoms, promising to return tomorrow.

  Regarding my ongoing court case, the graphologist suggested by my lawyer because he can comment on, states of mind when a signature was being made, is visiting the island in May. The suggestion was made about four years ago. I understood that he was over ninety then. My lawyer’s words were, on that occasion, “We must not waste any time”. I hope he lives long enough to check my signature as he is greatly respected by the judges.

  April 5, 2010:

  Today the beautiful boy with a spare hole in his dick returned from Athens. He is on holiday. He has put on a little weight but is still perfect though not tall enough to remain beautiful passed his twenties. The Hamam was very quiet and we were in the hot room. Without looking at me he stretched out on the warm marble floor and I sank to my knees placing my hands on his back, he still feels wonderful, his skin tight and muscle now firmer. I finished his back and he allowed me to massage and explore his full round ass. I ran my hands down the inside of his thighs then raising his ass just a fraction I could reach his groin from behind. He moved his knees wi
der and lifted his ass so that I could caress his balls and stimulate his dick. He became very hard and under the soap suds I could clearly see his anus. I caressed it with my thumb and for the first time he offered me access to his prostate. His asshole was very tight and smooth. I did not take advantage of my new privilege and started gently masturbating his dick.

  He turned over offering his torso to be caressed and his dick to be sucked to the point of orgasm. I looked up and a fat old Greek was standing in the door way. He had made no attempt to intrude and I am learning to be more tolerant, so with gesture I made it clear that his presence was acceptable on condition that he did not bother us because my friend’s moment of release was sacrosanct to us both. Without resentment, he respected our privacy and return to his basin. After a very rewarding orgasm we spent quite a long time together in silence, relaxing on the heated floor our limbs engaged. With only a glance he expressed his happiness and satisfaction as he left. The fat man returned to the doorway, his hand covering his large dick. He gave me an enquiring nod at the empty floor and I said ‘He’s a friend’, and he returned to his basin after a nod of acceptance or even approval.

  April 6, 2010:

  I went to the Hamam this afternoon and the only occupant I could see was dirty Tassos. The building was cold and the water barely warm. In the hot room, I found the teacher friend I have known for many years. He is getting overweight and his beautiful face becoming common place. He still has an embryonic dick. I remembered that I had left chicken cooking gently, so we left together, there was no reason to stay.

  This morning, my soldier friend arrived while I was still in bed. He asked for a coffee and then announced that he needs a massage. He also mentioned that he had been robbed of his pay. As the kettle turned its self-off he stretched out naked on my bed. Laying on his stomach he lifted his ass and said, ‘Look at my asshole’ I was kneeling behind him my hand between his legs holding his dick and balls. I oiled his ass and ran my hand down the deep cleft between his magnificent buttocks. I watched his asshole relax and the fine skin inside became evident. He said, ‘Put three fingers’ his sphincter was resilient but yielded and I reached his prostate with ease. He pressed and rotated his ass against my hand.

  Under the bed I had the remains of my plastic vibrating dick. I forget how it broke but where the battery used to be, there is now a space. I filled the space with a lighter and showed it to my soldier friend. His eyes lit up as I presented him with about five inches of broken dildo. On his knees, he pulled his cheeks apart and I applied Vaseline liberally to the dildo and his anus and then I place the end of the dildo against his asshole, I tormented him by caressing his asshole with the tip, round and round and up and down. He was getting desperate so I said; ‘You ready?’ and he pushed his ass against the dildo. Grasping the dildo firmly in my fist I rammed it straight in. He quickly recovered from the shock and his ass relaxed so I tried every possible simulation of fucking. Most of all he liked his anus stretching, so I stirred the dildo around stretching his anus to its limits. His ass was so hungry the dildo slipped off the lighter and I nearly lost it. Putting my fingers in the space where the battery used to be and said, ‘push’ and to my relief, I retrieved it. The soldier grabbed it from me and started sucking it, his eyes closed as if it was a real dick.

  On his back smiling, he took my hand and forced four fingers inside his ass and then wanked himself to a very abundant ejaculation. He asked me to lend him fifty euros. I apologized, saying, ‘I don’t have money but I can always help with cigarettes.’ I gave him ten euros because the lost wage was probably a ploy and I also promised to buy him a new plastic dick. I think I prefer fucking with a plastic dick, it is a very sensible solution from many points of view. So, my soldier friend, who thinks he’s straight, is going to get his ass well and truly fucked.

  Nashwan telephoned me, he said, ‘I have no money, no food and I can’t find work.’ He has survived for the last ten years so I am sure that something will turn up.

  April 14, 2010:

  I have booked a flight for England in five days but I must return before the 10th of May for the graphologist’s visit. I saw a film last night based on a story by Danielle Steel. She suffers from the opposite of writer’s block. I am reminded of Pringle’s advice on writing, “If something flows too easily and really pleases you, scrap it.” My sister-in-law has discarded most of our library. She has shelves of female writers I have never heard of, but Danielle steel to pre-dominate. There are enough quality books to open a library waiting in boxes to go to the auction rooms.

  April 18, 2010:

  There is some doubt about my flight to London tomorrow. Some volcano is causing problems. My soldier friend returned today, I have bought him two plastic dicks, one normal and one large. ‘Which one do you want?’--- ‘I want the biggest.’ I showed him a very fine plastic dick of huge proportions and unfazed he bent over. I prefer massaging and exploring the subtle possibilities of each encounter. I had already prepared a leather belt with slit to hold the phallus against my pubic bone. He was holding the foot of my bed, legs apart, so I covered his anus and the plastic monster with Vaseline and placed the head against his asshole. My soldier is as short in the leg. It was difficult balancing with my knees bent. He was pulling his cheeks apart as I applied a gentle pressure to his anus but nothing eased, so I slapped his full round muscular buttocks repeatedly. Then I placed the head of the dildo with some pressure against his anus and very gently the huge head begin to ease into his ass. Knowing the problems of insertion, I waited, and then reaching for his dick I began to gently masturbate him still maintaining a constant pressure. Gradually his ass allowed accommodation, then reaching back he grabbed my ass and pulled himself hard onto the plastic dick. He let out a cry when there was still one inch waiting to be engulfed. I was deprived of the satisfaction of hammering my loins against his resilient ass. I waited but the last inch was not going to gain accommodation.

  After fucking him gently for a while I put my left arm around his neck and pulled him upright so I could bite his neck while masturbating him, his dick quite hard as I tried to ram his prostate. Then he asked me to lie on the bed. The plastic dick had shit lodged behind the nob and the room was starting to smell. I lay on my back while he sat on the dick smiling and it was accommodated with ease. Both fucking hard he wanked himself all over my chest and face.

  This time he did not want to suck the dick. ‘I like women, but sometimes I need a change and I want my ass fucked, but I am not gay.’ Amused, with the dildo well rapped and under the bed I said, ‘I like your dick very much; I want to try it sometime.’ His answer intrigued me, ‘No, I am not gay; I don’t fuck men.’ It seems that the rules can be adapted to suit the individual or the occasion. It is interesting to note that the most enjoyable moment for me had been slapping his ass.

  I believe dildos could be greatly improved and they should study my friend’s dick. The dildos are too bendy and it is impossible to manipulate them with the necessary precision required for truly successful fucking. My friend’s dick is rigid inside and therefor controllable, it has a resilient outer layer and is particularly thick in the middle of the shaft and, it is stream-lined enough to gain easy access into any space with ease. But he won’t oblige me.

  April 19, 2010:

  All flights are canceled because the volcano has continued erupting. I have discovered which drug the Greek probably gave me when I signed the receipt for 60,000 pounds. It was suggested by an anesthetist who once worked with Claire’s mother. It is called Midazolam; it is a pre-med and like all pre-meds it induces amenability with some loss of memory. I asked a friend to check on internet for me. Some pre-meds are so effective that minor operation can be done without a general anesthetic. I suppose being effectively tricked out of 60,000 pounds was a successful, minor operation.

  May 12, 2010:

  I asked the friend who had already found midazolam on the internet, to print a copy for my case. I took it to my lawyer because the Gr
aphologist is now coming on 18th of May. I suspect this being Greece, the Graphologist will either cancel or die. John still owes me 2000 euros for the deformation of character case.

  I called Nashwan, he says that he is happy and has found work. He also said, ‘I love you Sebastian’ I have been considering the nature of hypocrisy after Nashwan surprised me by using such a precise English word. In the film ‘The Kite Runner’ we saw the commander of a Taliban group throw the first stone at a woman caught in adultery; this was after fucking a boy before breakfast. Nashwan who insist that there are no gays in Islam has told me that fucking ten years old boys is very popular in Iraq. My Pakistani pupil told me that killing his sister for bringing shame upon the family is valid. I exclaimed, “but, you’re fucking everybody’s sister” he laughed and said, “My friend, you don’t understand”. I replied, “I think, I understand only too well.”

  In Greece and the east, appearance is paramount but what goes on in private is no bodies business, unless caught. This is not confined only to the east; I am also reminded that because Prince Charles was honest and admitted on television to having committed adultery, a whole chain of events took place that would not have happened if he had lied and Mrs. Parker Bowls had no choice but to divorce. If the Royal Family bothers to deny an accusation, we can be sure that it is true. Perhaps hypocrisy is crucial to social order.