The Journey by L. Adams the Red Dragon
The usual warnings apply, this story contains descriptions of man to man sexual activity. If you are under age or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material in your area, province, state, country, etc. please move on. The piece is copyrighted and therefore it may not be reproduced, copied, or reposted, in any way shape or form without the express written permission of the author. You may contact the author at adama1416@aol.com. All emails answered except flamers, they will be happily deleted.
Authors Note. The concept for this story was taken from the Journal of my great great grandfather. In the actual journal, there was no 'explicit' mention of any sexual contact between him or any other male, however, there were many passages which would suggest such activity did take place.
The Journey Chapter 1 THE JOURNEY BEGINS
It was early summer of 1853, during the reign of Queen Victoria. I had been planning this journey for nearly a year, all during my last year of school. It would prove to be the most memorable trip of my life.
The mid day heat was oppressive as the train crossed the Moroccan plain to the foothills into Marrakech. It was so hot that my clothing was sticking wetly to my body. This was my first trip to anywhere outside of England, and I wanted to see all of the mysteries of the world before returning home to resume my studies. Morocco, Alexandria, Cairo and then on to Constantinople, before returning home. My mother was against the trip, but my father informed her that by the time he was my age, he had already been in the Queen's service and seen much of the world. At only 19 he had assumed his father's seat in the House of Lords, and had taken over the whole of the estate due to his father`s death. He was sure that it would be good for me to get out and see the world.. Father and I decided that I would make my travel arrangements and he would send cables to all of the hotels where I would be staying, to arrange my accommodations.
I was just 17 and had finished school only three weeks earlier. Totally naive to the ways of the world, and even somewhat apprehensive, I left Liverpool aboard the mail steamer AFRICANS bound for Casablanca and was now riding the Marrakech Express to that ancient city, a trip of some 400km.
The Express consisted of a steam locomotive and tender, a few closed in passenger cars for the first class passengers, but the majority of the cars were open from about half way up the side to the roof. There were wooden slat seats down each side of the car which would comfortably seat two people each. At the rear of each coach was a small sort of enclosure with a crude seat that was actually a hole cut out of the board and open to the tracks underneath. This was the toilet facility for the entire coach. In actuality, it afforded very little privacy, as anyone in the coach who chose to look could see everything one was doing inside.
I was sitting there alone, though I hadn't started out that way. My friend Jack had gotten ill before the ship arrived at Casablanca, and had been admitted to the hospital there. Jack insisted that since he would be out of hospital in a week at most, I should continue onward and he would join me at Cairo in two weeks.
There weren't many westerners in the open cars, they were mostly in the first class compartments. In my car, there was a man and woman seated together, and two other men, one about my age and the other who looked to be in his fifties. The older gentleman was smoking a big cigar and reading the London Times, while the younger one seemed preoccupied with the scenery. The majority of the passengers, all of various ages, appeared to be Moroccans. Many appeared to be carrying all their belongings with them and a lot of the women were dealing with small children who appeared somewhat impatient at being cooped up on the train for so long.
As the city came into view, I was somewhat dismayed at my first impression. The majority of the buildings appeared to be simple mud dwellings of only one or two rooms, and single level, with small animal pens at one end or at the rear. The train station was totally different from the other buildings in that it was built of wood, with large glass pane windows and lots of gingerbread trimming which reminded me of England. As we detrained, the stiffening heat seamed to well up from the sand and the pungent smell of animal dung filled my nostrils. I heard voices from the front of the station calling out the availability of transportation to the various hotels. I knew that my hotel was in the Kasbah, which I had been informed was the oldest part of the city. As I heard one of the camel drivers calling out "Kasbah" I began to make my way in his direction. When I got to where he was standing, I asked if he knew where the Balthazar Hotel was in the Kasbah?
"Balthazar, yes, I know it good. I take, 3 denary."
I handed the man the money and as I attempted to mount the camel the man grabbed my leg to give me a boost up. I was suddenly a bit uncomfortable with the placement of his hands, which I felt were a bit too handily placed as one hand was firmly on my bum and the other seemed dangerously close to my crotch, however he backed away a bit after I had seated myself on the beast. He grabbed the lead and jerked upwards as the camel sprang to it's feet, jolting me about a bit. My jolting was not unnoticed by the driver as he suddenly grabbed my leg again to help steady me, I thought. I became uncomfortable again as he didn't move away at once, but rather, moved his hand gently along my thigh in an up and down motion.
Our trip to the hotel was not a long one, but it took about fifteen minutes, in which time I noticed that my driver continued to stay close to my side, rather than leading the camel from the front, which I noticed was how the other drivers led their beasts. As we traveled among the small dwellings I was began to notice the smells of cooking in addition to the animal smells. Combined with the heat, the odors seemed to fill the air. As we drew up in front of the hotel, he again placed his hands on my bum as he helped me off the camel. I nervously thanked him as he winked and licked his lips as a lascivious smile played across his face. I could feel the heat of my blush as I turned to go into the hotel.
Inside the Hotel there were large panel fans waving back and forth in an effort to provide some releif from the mid day heat, and I made my way to the big marble desk where the consierge was standing. I walked up to the desk and told him my name, knowing that my father had cabled ahead to make my reservations. He glanced at me as he shuffled his papers about and pulling a paper out from the stack, looked me in the eye and spoke in a totally business manner.
"Master Robert Light, yes, I have a suite for you and your friend, Master John Crane. Is he arriving on a later train perhaps?"
Seeing the confusion on his face, I nervously whished that Jack were standing there with me.
"No, he took ill on the boat, and was put in hospital in Casablanca. He should be joining me in Cairo."
His facial expression changed from serious to a sly smile as he made a notation on his paper and passed it over for me to sign. Across the top margin he had written in upper case "ALONE!". I didn't think anything else about it as I passed the paper back to him. He placed it on another stack as he looked up and snapped his fingers for a bellman.
A young boy who I guessed to be about 14, dressed in white linen trousers and a red satin vest which highlighted his olive toned skin, approached and bowed, then picked up my bag as the Consierge handed him a key attached to a fob.
"110" he said, "and enjoy your stay Master Light."
I turned and followed the boy as he led me up the marble staircase which led off the side of the room and down the elegantly apportioned hallway to my suite. He inserted the key into the hole and turned the handle, pushing the heavy oaken door inward.
As I stepped into the rooms, I noticed the ornate d^Âcor of rich mahogany, heavy scarlet drapes, and the plush settee and side chair. The sideboard had been set with a large basket of native fruits and bottles of various wines. We crossed the room into the bed chamber which was also elegantly decorated. The big bed, looked to be big enough for a Sheik and his whole harem, raised on a platform about two feet off the floor with steps on either side, and there was a large net fastened to the ceiling and draped down at the head of the huge bed. The young boy placed my bag on the serviet at the end of the bed and took hold of the mesh drape.
"To keep off the.er.. Insects, mosquitos." he smiled. As he handed me the room key, he touched my hand and held it for a breif time as he smiled at me again, his dark eyes seemingly dancing as the light from the window glistened on his olive skin.
"If you need, you call for Mahomet, that me, I come, get what you need. OK? I take good care, yes?"
I smiled back at him, handed him a small gold coin, to which his smile nearly covered his entire face, as he bowed and turned to leave the room. He turned back and looked at me again and repeated what he had already said adding with a bit of a laugh in his voice, "I come back and draw bath for Master before dinner, yes?"
I nodded and he smiled and turned again and seemed to leap from the rooms amidst a peal of laughter.
Mahomet, I thought to myself, he seems a nice enough youngster, and eager to do his duties. I wasn't sure about the whole thing, being waited on by a boy much younger than myself. The boy did seem quite happy though, and I felt a small tingle when he touched my hand while handing me the key to the rooms.
Of course, we had servants at home, but none this young, and they never seemed this eager to please the members of my household. I moved back into the lounge room and got a glass and one of the bottles of wine from the sideboard and poured myself a small amount. Sitting down on the setee, my thoughts drifted to my friend Jack, in the hospital, and I wondered how he was getting on. I was sure that he wasn't getting the kind of treatment I was receiving here. Poor Jack. I wondered about his condition, as he was quite weak and pale when they took him from the boat and put him into the ambulance wagon. I rode with him to the hospital and they seemed to have him somewhat more stable by the time I had left.
Jack was naturally light skinned, as are most englishmen, but when they first drew him from the boat, he looked near death. His paleness a striking contrast to his light brown hair and blue green eyes which seemed sunken into his face. His normally bright red lips looked somewhat gray and his clothing was fully saturated by his perspiring, which might not have been uncommon in the heat of this country, except that he was shaking with chills. I wanted to stay there with him, but he convinced me that I should continue onward, so as not to ruin the trip, and promising that he would do all that the doctors told him, and would definitely join me in Cairo. I gave the Nurse Mistress my itinerary for the next two weeks and told her to contact me at once if his condition took a turn for the worse and I would return posthaste. She assured me that he would be fine in a few days and would be on his way to join me.
Upon leaving the hospital the next morning, I hailed a carriage and had the driver take me to the train station for the long ride to Marrakech.
There was a soft knock at the door and I rose from the setee to see who it might be. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Mahomet standing there smiling at me.
"I draw bath for you now, yes?"
"But it's still early yet Mahomet."
"No Sir. Dinner seating in one hour. I draw nice bath, Young Sir get clean and dressed."
I stepped aside and allowed Mahomet to enter the room and followed him into the bed chamber. He crossed the room and opened a small door and pulled a valve allowing water to run into the large porcelain tub. When the water reached the desired level, he stepped aside and motioned for me to enter.
"Does Sir wish for Mahomet to bathe him?"
I felt the flush begin at my toes as it crept up my body expressing itself boldly in my face, to which Mahomet giggled.
"No Mahomet, I think I can manage to bathe myself, however, you can unpack my bag and lay out my clothes for the evening."
The boy moved to the wardrobe and opened it, retrieving a silken dressing gown and crossed the room to hand it to me. I turned my back to the boy and removed my shirt, covering quickly with the gown. I then removed my shoes and stockings and then quickly my pants. Glancing back to make sure that Mahomet was busy, I slipped the gown off and slid into the bathing tub, hurridly sitting in the tepid water to cover myself.
As I bathed I glanced at Mahomet, and caught him looking at me several times, smiling as he stole glances here and there.
I finished my bath, still a bit embarrassed, and looked for a towel, finding none, I had no choice but to ask Mahomet for assistance. He again opened the wardrobe and retrieved a large towel from inside and stepped to the end of the tub, holding it out so that he could wrap it around me as I stood. I was suddenly too embarrassed to do anything other than to stand as he wrapped it around my body and began to rub me dry as I stepped from the tub. Again, I felt the heat as my skin flushed even redder than it had been before. I took hold of the towel and gently pulled it from his hands as I wrapped it round my body, clutching it to hide myself while he held the dressing gown out to me. I was afraid that he would notice my excitement if I continued to allow him to dry me. I took the gown and pushed my arms through the sleeves, clutching the towel with the free hand as I drew the gown about me.
Mahomet giggled as I continued to flush and nervously clutch the gown together. Turning toward the bed and seeing that my clothes for the evening had been laid out, I turned to Mahomet and told him that he could return to his duties in the lobby. He smiled graciously and I heard him giggle again as he moved toward the door of the suite.
I dressed and left the room, locking the door behind me, and headed down the stairs to the main dining room. As I passed through the lobby area on my way, I saw Mahomet, standing at his customary station. He saw me and smiled, nodding his head as I passed and entered the large dining room.
The dinner was wonderful, roast of lamb, a greens plate, potatoes and hard rolls , and I couldn't help but think again of poor Jack, in hospital, eating food that probably wasn't even fit to feed to dogs. I called for the waiter and told him that I would have a coffee in the main lounge. I moved to the lounge and was escorted to a seat where the small table had already been laid out with a cup and saucer, spoon, and a sugar and milk set. The waiter brought a small, cozied pot and poured the coffee into the cup, and sat the pot on the table. I thanked him, and he left as I began to drink the strong coffee.
The large clock in the lounge began to chime, indicating that the hour was past nine. I hadn't realized that I had been sitting in the lounge for so long, nor had I realized just how tired I really was. I decided it must have been the long train ride that made me so, and decided to return to my suite. As I passed through the lobby, I noticed that there was an older man where Mahomet had been earlier. I stopped at the desk and left a wake up for 7:00, as I wanted to get an early start on my sight-seeing for the next day, and then headed to the stairs, and to my rooms. As I neared the door to my suite, I saw Mahomet, sitting on the floor outside the door.
"I get bed ready for young sir, yes? Make sir very comfortable."
I moved to the door and turned the key to open it. Mahomet pushed the door open and stepped aside for me to enter, and followed me into the lounge, closing the door behind us.
He moved swiftly into the sleeping room and began his duties of turning down the douvet, and generally making things ready for me to retire for the night.
I poured myself another small glass of wine and walked into the sleeping room to find that Mahomet had my sleeping gown, holding it out as though he were waiting for me. After the events of the bath earlier in the evening, I decided that he was just doing his duty, and began to undress. As I lay my waistcoat and shirt on the bed, and began to reach for the buckle on my trousers, I hesitated. Mahomet must have sensed my aprehension as he handed me the gown and turned to busy himself with hanging my waistcoat into the wardrobe. As luck would have it, he turned to retrieve my shirt, just as my pants fell to my feet, which wouldn't have been a problem had my night gown not caught at my hips, leaving me totally exposed from the waist down. His eyes widened and he giggled as he also noticed the redness return to my face. I was determined at that point that I would pretend as though nothing unusual had happened.
Mahomet raised the bed coverings and indicated that I should get in. I suddenly realized that he was not leaving my rooms for some reason.
"You may leave now Mahomet, so that I can lock the door for the night."
Mahomet looked somewhat stunned at my comment.
"Mahomet sleep on floor young sir. It is my place in young sir's room."
"No, that's quite alright, I will be fine, and won't be needing any more service tonight."
His expression changed suddenly from stunned to dejected.
"Sir is not happy with Mahomet? Mahomet has done something wrong?"
"Oh no, Mahomet, you have done nothing wrong, but don't you want to go home to sleep?"
"Mahomet has no home, but hotel. Mahomet sleeps on floor of master's rooms."
I was taken somewhat aback. It had never occurred to me that the boy might be homeless. I suddenly felt ashamed, or at least embarrassed at my own ignorance. Was I totally callus and unfeeling? How could I have known what was expected? I was a stranger in his country, and even with all of my studies, I was ignorant of the customs of his country. I looked at the boy and extended my hand to take the edge of the bedcovers as I moved onto the bed.
"Of course Mahomet, you can stay here for the night, but you mustn't sleep on the floor. You can sleep on the setee in the lounge if you like. Just be sure that you lock the door."
The boy smiled as he looked at me and bowed slightly, then he began adjusting the netting around the bed. He trimmed the lamp and as my eyes began to close, I saw him leave the room.
I was startled awake by a heavy knock on the door. As I rose from the bed and searched in the darkness for the dressing gown. Moving into the lounge, Mahomet had lit the lamp and was moving toward the door.
He turned the bolt and pulled the door open slightly. I heard the voice of the Consierge as he spoke roughly to the boy. Mahomet nearly shouted something in Arabic that I couldn't understand and slammed the door shut, turning the bolt.
"What was that all about?"
"Young master does not want visitors in night!"
"What visitors? Who..er.why would anyone be visiting in the middle of the night?"
"Consierge been drinking, want to bother young master, Mahomet tell him go home, go away, not bother young master!"
Mahomet crossed the room toward me and motioned for me to return to my bed.
"What do you mean, he wanted to bother me? Did he have a message for me? Perhaps from my friend?"
"No young sir, he wanted to bother you. He, he.he want to.to touch young sir, like this."
Mahomet immediately reached out and placed his hand on my groin, grasping my flaccid penis as he did so. His action startled me so that I jerked quickly, stumbling backward. The youngster quickly caught me and helped me regain my footing, and as he did so, I threw my arms around his shoulders to help stabilize myself. As soon as I realized what I had done, I began to pull away from the boy.
"I'm sorry Mahomet, I didn't mean to..I'm.I'm so sorry."
I immediately turned and went back into the bedroom. Mahomet followed me in, lamp in hand, as he made his way to the side of the bed. He placed the lamp on the side table and again took hold of the bedclothes, raising them dutifully for me to get into the bed.
"Young sir must not apologize. Young sir has need? Mahomet can fix."
As I sat on the edge of the bed, Mahomet bent and took hold of my feet, lifting them into the bed as I turned. Then, without warning or hesitation, he began to move his hands up my legs and under my sleeping gown. As his soft young hands slid higher up my thighs, I felt a strange sensation and began to feel my legs tremble. I suddenly realized that my throat was very dry, and yet, my lips stuck together, making it difficult for me to speak. When I did finally manage to speak, the words sounded hoarse.
"M.M.Mahomet.w...w...wh.what are you doing?"
"Mahomet fix everything, make young sir feel much better. Yes?"
"N...n...no, Mahomet, this is not good. This is."
His hands were skillfully manipulating my penis, which had developed a mind of it's own as it began to harden. I had never felt anything so sensual, so stimulating, in my entire young life. I suddenly felt that I was about to explode. I couldn't catch my breath, my heart felt like it was trying to jump out of my chest. I felt my toes clinch as the current ran through my body and my semen flooded forth out of my engorged penis.
Mahomet quickly removed his hands and scampered to the wardrobe to get a towel and returned to clean the mess I had made.
As I began to recover my composure, my mind was reeling. What had I done ? How could I have allowed this situation to develop? How could I allow this boy to do this thing? The questions ran rampant through my mind.
Mahomet pulled the bedclothes up over me and turned to pick up the lamp from the side table, then turned back to me briefly.
"Young sir sleep now."
He then turned and left the room, and me, speechless and alone. Suddenly, I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want the boy to sleep alone in the next room either.
"Mahomet, come here please."
He came back into the room.
"You will sleep here tonight, in my bed. Please?"
Mahomet crossed the room and stood on the opposite side of the bed. "Sir is sure he want Mahomet to sleep in his bed?"
"Yes, Mahomet, sir is very sure."
I saw a slight smile play across his face as he sat the lamp on the table and trimmed the wick, allowing the room to darken. I heard the rustle of cloth and then felt him climb onto the bed. I moved over closer to him and my hand touched his naked flesh. I immediately withdrew my hand as the boy sat up in the bed. With no words being said, I sat up and the boy lifted my sleeping gown, pulling it over my head and dropping it to the floor, then as we lay back onto the bed he snuggled close to me so that our bodies touched completely. I wrapped my arms around the boy and we drifted into sleep.