Let's Go Fly a Kite - an excerpt from DEBAUCHERY
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"Beauty is truth's smile when he beholds his face own face in a perfect mirror."
Rabindranath Tagore
Excerpt:
Back in those days, Portsmouth was not the buzzing city it is today. Since we were going to a kite festival, we went to a local store to purchase a couple of kites. We wanted to join in the fun instead of being bystanders and watching the festivities unfold. Little did we know that kite enthusiasts the world over had come, elaborate kites in hand, to compete for the title of the best original design and show off their latest flying creations.
A crowd of onlookers and participants had gathered at the open field. Judging by the turnout, it was going to be a family event. There were many kinds of kites, from traditional paper kites to others made from lightweight plastic materials. There were kites resembling bobbing jellyfishes, swimming fishes, supernatant sea creatures, flying dragons, soaring mythical birds and crawling land creatures such as pouncing tigers and hopping rabbits. I had never seen such an array of rainbow colors blowing in the wind.
We found a secluded spot in this expansive field to lay our belongings down for a picnic. Before long, our kites had joined the rest of the flying gaggle. Samuel and I were having a fun time maneuvering the strings of our individual kites while our ���big brothers��� sat chatting some distance away, enjoying tea and finger sandwiches. They didn���t notice when the adolescent tripped and fell backwards while pulling on his kite string. He had bumped his head on the ground, and for a brief moment the boy looked as if he had been knocked unconscious. His knee and ankles were bleeding. In a panic, I leaned down to see if he was alright. His eyes were closed, and he did not speak when I called out to him. My immediate thought was to give him mouth-to mouth-resuscitation. To my surprise, during the process I found myself kissing the boy passionately, like prince charming awakening the sleeping beauty. I held onto his limp body while tears streamed down my face. I wasn���t sure if I made the correct revival move. Our BBs came running in our direction when they noticed what had transpired.
Suddenly, Sam opened his eyes as if coming out of a daze. Duc carried his charge posthaste to the nearby first aid tent, which had been set up for emergencies. We followed behind. As he was being carried away, the adolescent turned and gave me an adoring look, as if he remembered the amorous kiss I had planted in his mouth some moments ago.
Andy enquired, ���What happened?���
���We were having fun flying our kites, and the next thing I knew, Samuel was on the ground unconscious. He must have tripped while running backwards.��� I replied but omitted the part about the kiss.
The attending doctor soon gave Sam a clean bill of health after bandaging his minor wounds. Duc wanted to take his charge back to Daltonbury Hall immediately, but the freshman insisted that he was fine and wanted to continue our day���s sojourn.
It had been a fun, exhausting day, but early morning, we were scheduled to attend Sunday service at our school���s non-denominational chapel. That night, when the lights went out and students had retired to bed, I lay awake, reliving the day���s event. I began to miss Andy and Oscar next to me. I couldn���t help but reminisce about the fervent kiss I had planted on the boy who was sleeping above me. I was unaware that the adolescent was also tossing and turning on his bed, as I was. He, like me eighteen months ago, was falling in love for the first time, not with his ���big brother���, Duc, but with moi.
I had incognizantly taken on the role of the Vicomte de Valmont to my own C��cile de Volanges, just as my Valet had predicted. My Austrian Portuguese roommate was my object of affection. My Valet was correct to warn me to leave Samuel to his ���big brother���s��� charge instead of toying with the young man���s tender affections.
Just as sleep was beginning to beckon me, I felt a warm body crawl into my bed. I did not stir when he wrapped his hands around my slender waist. Since the room was pitch dark, I could not see the person. My immediate thought was Sam must be lying next to me. Yet his grip was strong and powerful, lacking the fragility of an adolescent���s touch. Whoever it was, I did not wish him to relinquish his hold on my being. I leaned my back against the warmth of his musculature. His intoxicating breath on my youthful neck sprang my organ to life. He pressed his lengthy hardness against my derriere, sending electric spasms through my being as I pressed against his muscular physique. His hands reached for my nipples, tenderly caressing them to attention. I tried not to make any noise as he continued his sensual foreplay. I turned my face to my side and our lips met in a libidinous kiss. I desired to explore his oral orifice as much as he craved for mine. My amorous lover rotated his nimble fingers around my leaking bulbousness, arousing me to heights of ecstasy I had no desire to waive.
I buried my face in his athletic pectus, covered with a light dust of hair. His musky scent was that of my French Canadian ���big brother.��� I remembered it from when Sam and I were in his embrace. Without opening my eyes, I knew my lover. He had secretly longed for me, and now we were finally consummating our love. His sensuality was stimulating me to the verge of release as he lubricated my opening and his throbbing erection with my emissions. He eased into me.
My legs wrapped around his waist, I surrendered to his gliding onslaught as his stiffness plunged deep into my existence. I bit into his shoulders to stop myself from making unnecessary noises that might wake our ���little brother.��� His puissant strokes send me spewing my release onto our chests and bellies while he continued rocking until he could no longer hold off his orgasm. Jets of creamy fluid flowed into my core. Its fervent intensity aroused our fiery kisses, which lingered even after his mighty propensity had simmered to a heaving whimper. He had no intention of ceding his prize; he protracted within until his manhood slithered out involuntarily. He sheathed me into his loving cocoon until I fell into tranquil slumber. Only then did he leave my bed for his own.
Unbeknownst to us, our ���little brother��� had been listening quietly above.
From the back cover:
���Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.���
Lao Tzu
Debauchery is the triquel to A Harem Boy���s Saga, a provocative story about a young man who was initiated into a clandestine sexual society through his UK boarding school. From there, he was spirited to the Middle East to attend the Bahriji (Oasis) School in The United Arab Emirates in preparation for Harem services for the wealthy elite.
It is also a love story between the young man, his ���Big Brother,��� and his ���Valet,��� who served as his chaperones and mentors.
This book follows the teenagers��� erotic and exotic adventures and experiences at their third Arabian Household Harem, the Quwah. There, they became confidants to a prince, assistants in an international dance club venture, ���Carousel,��� and apprentices and models in a controversial photography project, ���Sacred Sex in Sacred Places.���
This story is an account of the author���s experiences. Through these truths, often demonized by contemporary societies that deem such behaviors inappropriate, the author hopes to dispel condemnation and negativity related to sexuality, love, and personal freedom.
A Harem Boy���s Saga is a series of seven volumes.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book III - DEBAUCHERY; a memoir by Young
Amazon best selling GLBT memoir for 15 months running.
Email: young@aharemboysaga.com
Website: www.aharemboysaga.com
Video trailer: http://bit.ly/1NUcelM
UK Amazon: http://amzn.to/1DkHC8v
US Amazon: http://amzn.to/1FMlHVY
5 stars: Elegant and Erotic Tale
By mlm "Mel"
To say this was a ���good��� story simply doesn���t do it justice. This is the true tale of a male Courtesan. Or, as the author puts it ��� A Harem boy. It begins with his life in Malaya as a small child. The honesty and self awareness he had is astounding. I laughed a bit when he called himself a ���Sissy boy���. But then he reclaimed that title and I found that he was quite proud of who he was. The toss of the coin by the Gods created a delicate and beautiful soul who was wise beyond his years ��� at least regarding his own self. His mother captivated me from the beginning. She doted on her youngest son and allowed him to be who he was. I believe it was her unconditional love that helped shape this adventurous and self-aware boy into a man who obviously, and rightly, loves himself. His relationship with his father, although forced and quite what one would expect, wasn���t as bad as it could have been (Happy to read that. At times I feared the worst.). Starting by learning all about his privileged upbringing in a romantic time helped me understand who and what he came from ��� and in turn ��� helped me to see the rest of the story from his eyes. I wanted the same things he did and I felt his relief and desperation to leave for boarding school in the UK. From here, our delicate ���Sissy Boy��� is initiated into the clandestine society E.R.O.S.
I���ll let the reader get the full story on how that happened. I will say ��� he was brave, and perhaps a bit naive. But his childlike trust was not misplaced and he was off on an erotic, and sensual adventure to the Middle East. This is where I truly fell in love with this tale. I felt as if I was reading Arabian Nights and seeing what really happened in the Kosk of a wealthy Middle Eastern man. The world he experienced was lush and opulent ��� as was the sex. The sexual stories are not graphic in the way one might think. You ���see��� what you must and, I think, the beloved author still has a few secrets from those times. However, from the fantastical tales he tells, his initiation was beyond the imagination of any young boy of the times. He���s whisked away to Italy, Tunisia, and Paris (among other places). At his young age, he experienced multiple lifetimes.
As I read the story, I realized this wasn���t simply a naughty tale of his escapades as a teenager. It was a love story. There were so many different kinds of love experienced! From his first ���puppy love��� experience to very real and deeply felt love that the reader watches blossom, we watch him learn what love is ��� to him. I also realized, halfway through, this was a love story about himself as well. The author has accepted all of his past and accepted himself in the process. He fell in love with himself and it was beautiful to see. A young, gay teenager who could have easily buckled under the pressure of society and his father to hate himself persevered and chose to walk in love in all that he did. That amazes me. His descriptions are lush and makes the reader yearn to be there, to feel the fabrics, to smell the smells, to taste the food and to see the expressions of love.
I will give a word of caution about this book ��� It was a mental hurdle from the beginning to overcome my assumptions and modern judgment of sex by/with/to a minor. After getting about 200 pages in, I set it aside to think about how I was feeling. I realized a few things ��� this wasn���t an American story. I had to remove my American glasses as I read this and understand it was a tale from a different land and a different time. I also began to understand the vast difference in social and economic classes. His life of privilege allowed many of his sexual proclivities to be accepted and, as in the school in the UK, pushed to new limits. This story has made me wonder about the wealthy classes of people and what other traditions we laypeople know nothing about. Fascinating. As equally fascinating as the inner working of the Muslim homes. Oh, what I wouldn���t give to be transported to such a place. If you can separate your modern, American point of view, and read this story for what it is ��� you will love it. Much like readers of Anne Rice���s SLEEPING BEAUTY series, this has the same ���feel��� to it. If you enjoyed that, you will enjoy this as well. I���m a straight woman who doesn���t make a habit of reading homoerotic stories. To each his own, right? But this, this was so much more than just sex confessions. A unique coming of age tale that is beautiful, daring, and provocative. Bravo Young!
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