Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

I have recently returned from a 16-day look at the Antiquities of Egypt.

Every third or so shop owner is either a chubbett or a full-blown chubby. I soon found all Egyptians have a great sense of humor. As I walked down the street and the chubbies came out to invite me in for shopping, I would rub their tummy and then mine and comment about the two of us being the same. Everyone would get a great chuckle out of it.

Once or twice in every block, the guy would literally drag me inside to look at his wares. After rubbing bellies a little, he would very quickly take my hand to his not overly large, but very hard, crotch and have his hand on my ass. We would exchange a hug or two as he made offers to close the doors or even close the shop and take me home.

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I was having too much fun shopping and teasing to get serious about them. Then too, chubbies are not my first love

They were very persistent and quite macho in their actions. During the ten days I played this game, I came to the conclusion that most were married and did not want to fool around out on the street. Go inside, out of sight, and it was a different world for them. I saw deep interest in the eyes of many men I met walking along the streets. Egypt could very well be a chubby heaven! Most speak a little English and some quite well.

The Egyptian skin is a clear tan color and very smooth. In upper Egypt (around Luxor and Aswan) you find the Nubian people. They are some of the most handsome fellows I've ever met. A dark brown skin with very small chiseled features-nose, lips, and cheek bones.

I took many of my evening meals at a local cafe. After completing a meal one evening, I asked for the toilet and was directed to the back of the house. I found a very small door opening on to a floor trench. I had to kind of hang a little out of the door to be able to hit the hole.

Just as I was almost finished, I felt something humping against my leg and an arm trying to wedge itself between the door jam and my thigh. I looked down and saw a 5-to-6 year-old boy trying to get my cock. I was dumbfounded. Children are not my thing; but, here he was. Before I beat a very hasty retreat I reached down (twice, I confess) and found him as hard as a rock. I went back the next night with the intent of proving to myself that I had not dreamed it. Luckily, he was not there. I'm not sure I could have resisted his aggressiveness.

I was introduced to a small ice cream and cookie shop on a street corner that had tea and could be used for people-watching. It was owned by two brothers. One of them attached himself to me by setting on the next stool every time I stopped in. He would set up his water pipe on one side of himself. He divided his time between the pipe and my crotch.

'Maybe tomorrow'

There was a promenade, along the Nile, across the street from my hotel. The benches make a super place to watch the cruising going on. Late one evening I saw a Nubian youth hit on a tourist. The tourist shook him off after about 5 minutes.

The boy, named Mohammed, came over and sat talking with me. He told of his father's shop which he did not want to work in, but could get me some good prices. He wanted to get an ID card from the police. If he had this he could have contact with tourists on the street without getting flack from the police. It cost 300 Egyptian pounds and he would never have enough money, and so on.

I thought he was trying to work me but, he repeatedly asked me to go to his house for tea. I would say "maybe tomorrow." The next day he would ask me if I was going to keep my promise and come for tea. I would put him off by saying that if I came to his house I would probably put my hands on his body. He would always respond with a phrase well-used by all the people doing business the tourists, "No problem."

The following evening I got back to the hotel about 10:30 pm. Being a little horny, I went across the street and sat on my usual bench. About 11 pm Mohammed came along riding the cross bar of a bicycle pedaled by a 23-year-old who had a shop somewhere in the bazaar. Mohammed told me that he was very disappointed that I had not kept my promise to come to his house for tea.

One last time I made the point about laying hands on him. The friend said that Mohammed understood and if it were OK he would like to come along too.

Mohammed stopped a horse and buggy, paid him and the two of us went deep into the back streets of Luxor. We finally stopped at a very poorly lit alley. Mohammed and his friend turned into the second doorway and up many flights of stairs in the darkest stairwell I saw. We broke out into a long hallway that had one or two small lights burning. I could hear family noises all down the hall.

We went into the second door on the left. This turned out to be Mohammed's one-room apartment. There was a double bed in one corner with two chest of drawers. One table and a small square coffee end table completed the room. The bed was not made but the sheets were clean.

The 23-year-old orchestrated the rest of the evening (I'll call him "Slick"). Slick sent Mohammed out for tea. It was decided that a little wine would fit right into the evening. Slick didn't have money so I volunteered a 20-pound note. (about $7) The number 20 was torn off of one corner. Slick informed me that this bill was no good and proceeded to tear it in half, roll it up, dip it in a glass of water and place it in a small note book in his shirt pocket. He received a second 20 pounds for wine which was never ordered.

The tea arrived and Slick called a mid 20-year-old from the next room (who I will call the "Waiter"). He brought glasses for the tea and a radio. While drinking the tea Slick asked his questions and gave answers to mine. His last question was to find out if I wanted him or Mohammed first. I told him I had come to tea with Mohammed and Slick would be a bonus if it worked out. Slick said that he was going to go home and would return later.

I sat on the side of the bed taking my clothes off and laying them on the table. Mohammed stood in front of me and as I peeled his sweater over his head he dropped his pants to his knees. I wanted him naked so I could touch his smooth brown skin. Mohammed had other ideas. He did not want to take his pants all the way off. With my insistent help, he finally did. He had on a pair of colored jockey shorts that I finally had to almost rip off him.

He reluctantly agreed to lay up on the bed, though it was plain this was not what he had in mind. I never tasted sweeter skin. He had a little tusk of hair above a nice brown cock. He had no more gotten on the bed than he tried to turn me over. My 350 pounds was obviously no match so he surrendered. He had no interest in my holding and kissing him; his only thought was to get into my ass.

After I had my way with him, he jumped out of bed and covered me with a blanket, bunched up at my neck, talking all the time he was getting dressed. I waited about 30 seconds before I peeked over the top of my blanket. Mohammed was just putting my billfold back into my pants pocket. As I got up he tried to pick up his sweater along with a $5 bill and a 20-pound note. I took both away from him, gave him hell and then gave the $5 as a souvenir. After him pleading not to tell Slick, I gave him the 20 pounds to buy a Michael Jackson tape he just had to have. Mohammed left the room and called Slick.

I had left my clothes off for the next round and was covered up with the blanket. As Slick stuck his head in, he showed great concern and left asking me to dress so no one would see me naked. I played it his way and dressed again. When Slick and I were again setting on the bed, I thought it wise to ask him just how he liked his sex. He said that he liked to massage.

He was standing in front of me as I took my shirt off, he could see the outline of my snake tattoo under the T-shirt. He seemed alarmed. He put his shirt back on, went out and called in "Waiter" and two other unknown guys. They were impressed and a little concerned about it. They ask if I was in the Mafia. It took a few minutes to clear the room.

Slick suggested that I lay my watch and gold ring on the little end table near the foot of the bed. I agreed and I intended to put my back to the wall so I could watch them from the bed. We got in about two minutes of rubbing before Slick called Waiter in. I figured that it could be handled. Here I am flat on my back in the middle of the bed with a cock on either side of my head. I treat first one a little then the other. Slick asks me if this wasn't just the best time I had ever had with two cocks. I very pointedly countered that there were three cocks in the game.

Slick got the message and started to coax "Waiter" to go down on me. He was not to much in favor of giving favor; but, reluctantly took me for about 45 seconds and them came back up for air. I thought well maybe a 69 will add up better for him. He only played with his hand and would not be forced. I decided that I'd had enough and rolled Waiter over on his back and let him jack himself off.

Slick was already dressed by the time Waiter had finished himself off. As I went to get dressed, I noticed that I had done a lousy job of watching my watch and ring. They were nowhere in sight. I did not say anything until I had my clothes on.

Then I said "OK where are they". Slick pleaded innocent. He finally found my watch on the floor. He immediately started trying to get me to give him the watch. When I persisted about the ring, he said he was not aware that I had brought any ring but "Maybe Waiter had picked it up, I'll go see." I placed myself between him and the door and said "We will both go see Waiter". He found my ring claiming Waiter had taken it and he would punish him latter. Slick ask for more money and I refused. I did give him 10 pounds for Waiter. He and I had all what fun there was to be had, so I thought it appropriate.

The longest part of the evening was the 5 minutes that I spent going down the pitch black stairs with Mohammed somewhere down in front of me and Slick and Waiter behind me talking to each other in a foreign tongue. I sweat blood until I got down to the street. It was 2 am and I expected a long walk to the hotel. Mohammed was pushing the bike and was going to go with me. The welcome sight of a taxi coming down the street put a cap on the episode.

The tab including taxi came to $5 and 75 pounds which all works out to about $30. Now tell me-where can you possibly have more fun for the money? I saw Mohammed the next day on the street and he said that Slick had taken half of the money away from him.

Author Profile:  Boyd McDonald

Born in 1925 in South Dakota, Boyd McDonald entered Harvard as a high-school dropout after serving in the army in World War II. Jobs with Time, IBM, and several Wall Street firms preceded Boyd's career as a chronicler of gay sex. He was the founder and editor of Straight to Hell (alternatively the Manhattan Review of Cocksucking), and later published a number of anthologies of true sex histories. Boyd died in September 1993, two months after completing his final book, Scum.