Chapter 3 Part A - Losing Virginity

3 Part A

LOSING VIRGINITY

After meeting Altaf, I didn’t find anyone interesting in Orkut. Got some messages, but my expectations were high and my standards had risen. But there is a horny moment in every gay’s life. You feel so horny that you want to meet someone, you won’t think much about your taste or expectation in that moment. In such an evening I was chatting in yahoo messenger with a South Indian guy “Fahad”, who speaks my mother tongue. His pictures look good, he is ready to drive to my place and I am horny. What more to ask!

While waiting for him, I lost my mood and got lazy. I did not take shower or got ready to see him. He called when he reached my neighbourhood. I walked to the landmark Spinneys supermarket in my shorts and T-shirt. Spinneys is not crowded like Lulu supermarket. It is quite expensive and normally Westerners buy from there. Their tomatoes look fresh like a cheek of a fat British guy and vegetables look beautiful like  nude blonds.  My brother and family normally go to Lulu though it was farer. When I was waiting outside Spinneys, I saw from far a typical South Indian guy in his neatly pressed trousers, blue check shirt tucked in and black shoes. He was fair with neatly combed black shiny hair and a nice smile. His eyes were big with thick eye lashes. He had baby fat on his cheek and it was glowing. He was tall and handsome but wasn’t my type. There is something missing in him that I want in a man. I could never figure out what is that little thing. Those who I find very sexy, my friends see totally not-good-looking, and when I reject some guys in clubs my friends are like: ‘are you stupid?’ I guess everyone has their own type, but my problem is that I can’t figure out what is that little thing in a man that makes me Horny!

‘Let’s go to my place?’ He asked.

It is always difficult to say No to someone on his face. So I acted busy ‘Sorry man, I have to be home in half an hour, my brother will be waiting there’

‘OK, then at least something in the car?’ he was horny.

‘Ohhh... In the car? This is Dubai, I am not ready to take a risk’ I acted naive and wise.

Finding excuses for everything means a NO; he realized it and we said goodbye.

Two days later I got a call from a guy called Mahboobka.

‘Hello, Lateef’

‘Lateef? Sorry, I am not Lateef!’

‘Oh, I called my assistant’s new number and may be dialled wrong, what is your name?’ He was friendly.

‘Sameer’ I told him a wrong name. The name Sameer is very famous in Bollywood movies. Either the Hero or one of his friends must be Sameer. So why not me being a Sameer. I am the hero in this story.

From my accent he got my home place and he said he is from the near city too.

We talked another 5 minutes. A middle aged business man, married with two kids living in Sharjah. There were no gay talks at all but I smelled a sausage cooking somewhere. He invited me for a dinner or drink on the weekend. Since middle aged men are always my thing, I accepted the invitation and was excited to meet him. 

On Thursday night (Friday and Saturday are the weekends in UAE) he came to pick me up in a black BMW. I am not a car fan. But expensive cars always turned me on. A handsome man in his late 30s with silver lined black hair and one day old beard with a smile and a cigarette on the lips. His hair was short and his face was sharp and long. He had an athletic body, not slim not fat. He had dark circles around his eyes, Small wrinkles near the eyes but it gave him an extra maturity. His perfume was telling me ‘sex in the air babe’. (He was the best smelling South Indian I had ever met) 

‘Where do you wanna go?’ Mehbooka started the conversation.

‘Anywhere’ I recommended my usual place.

‘That is interesting! Then let’s have dinner and drinks at Kaveri and then go home. Is your brother OK, if you don’t come back home tonight?’

‘Yes, weekends I am free. I told him that I might not come back home’

 He took me to a nice Indian restaurant cum bar. It had a north Indian Mughul interior and dark red lighting. We sat in a corner table for 4. It had an Indian candle holder with an artificial candle. Waitresses were wearing cream color Sari and blue blouse. They looked modest and sexy at the same time. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was singing in the background.

‘Hello Sir, long time... Where have you been?’ The girl who came to take our order seemed to know Mehbooka very well.

‘Long story’ He made the conversation short!

We ordered very spicy curry, Chapatti and Red Wine. We Indians mix and match every food and drinks. There is no food theory for Indians, especially Gulf Indians. I got tipsy after three glasses of wine. Compared to other drinks, wine gives me high sex drive.

 ‘Let’s go’ wine started talking. I talked all the way to his apartment in Sharjah. A two bedroom apartment with lots of family atmosphere; a small bicycle on the doorway, cartoon pictures on the wall, cryons and pencils on the table. White walls had pencil drawings.  The untidiness of the rooms explained that his wife and two kids were on vacation.

His bisexuality, mixed smell of his expensive perfume and cigarette made me want him so much. I did not feel guilty of screwing a married man. After all its just sex, I am not going to affect his family life in any ways. 

He kissed me on the door way, softly but very passionately. Our clothes fell off on the way to bedroom. He had a soft skin, and minimum hair on his chest. Unlike Altaf he was gentle in the bed. He kissed all over my body and made a 69 position. After the cuddling process Mehbooka reached his hands on the drawer of side table. I knew it was for condom.

to be continued