I tell the following story with great reluctance, mostly because to this day, almost ten years after the events which occurred in a maintenance hangar at Dubai airport, I still do not know how to feel about them. "I haven't come to terms," as they say.

The emotions I could feel -- if I were able to reflect objectively on that night -- are these: there is foremost anger, and fury over the humiliation, and after those have subsided, there is shame, over my own weakness and the humiliation. There is, however, also a sense of longing, and of lust, associated with the events. The more time passes, the more I feel myself drawn back to that day. I dream about it. I long to go through the ordeal again. For, after all, and for all the tricks and one night stands which followed, and for all the love and care I have known since, it was the best sex I ever had.

I never intended to go to Dubai. I had been in Singapore, visiting my aunt and her new boyfriend (both in their sixties), settling in on a new development on Sentosa island -- one of the most ludicrously artificial and inhuman living spaces ever conceived by urban planners. It's like a life of permanent bliss inside a theme park, for lobotomized rich folk, at tropical temperatures. Aunt Milly and Sew drove me to the airport late evening for a flight continuing from Australia via Singapore. When we got to the airport, there was no plane to board. "Technical difficulties," they explained. The plane was still in Sydney. I was rerouted thus via Bangkok and Dubai, and so, twelve hours, half a book and three pointless American blockbuster movies later, landed in Dubai. It was 2:30 am local time, yet the airport was chock-a-bloc with passengers.

It is one of the strange features of the Middle East that they seem to be more active at night than at day, when the sweltering heat makes work impossible or at least far less pleasant than during the cool hours of the night. There seem to be more aircraft movements during the dark hours at Dubai than during the day, and all the shops and facilities are open all through the night. The plane landed, docked, and all deplaned. The same plane would take us -- under a different flight number onwards to Europe two hours later. The last announcement on invited us to stroll through the lavish shopping arcades of Dubai International Airport and spend some currency. "Go on young man, you'll love it. It's amazing, all the stuff they sell here," my elderly seat neighbor exhorted me to get a move on. Never mind the shops, I thought, where's the nearest toilet?

It is at this point I must describe myself, having relieved myself at the urinals, and now washing my face in the mirror. I was at that time 21 years of age, captain of my university rowing team, and an active football player. I was slim, blond, and I remember correctly didn't even grow a beard back then, or if, then only around the chin area. Back home in England, I was one of many cute blond young men, with the traditional geeky English look that comes from many generations of near-inbreeding and which never fades. I say 'near' because there most definitely was some Danish blood in my line two generations before, when my grandmother married into Danish royalty. But what at home was just another slender boy with a bit of muscle developing through the aid of modern fitness equipment, lots of rowing, and the footwork that comes with running, footie, and the occasional skiing trip in the Austrian Alps, here in Dubai, amongst the hirsute, olive-skinned Arabs and Indians, I felt completely alien. And how openly they stared!

On the way to the toilet almost every man, solo, in pairs, with wife, wives, or wife and children, in traditional dress, or in suit, or in sports clothing, with and without luggage or shopping bags, looked at me; most smiled, some smirked, and a few gave me a definitely lecherous look. And in the toilet, whilst I had been pissing, two younger Arabs had immediately come up to occupy the urinals to my left and right, and both tried to catch a glimpse of my dick, and when I looked back, both smiled at me the friendliest, broadest, most lascivious smiles I have ever seen on a man.

I must recount also that until that time I had had exactly three sexual experiences: one with a classmate when we were both fifteen (he tried to show me how he "spouted", but failed), one with a girl at university, both of us drunk and stoned (I don't remember exactly what happened, but she assures me -- with a grin -- that I had been a gentleman, whatever that means), and the third with my history teacher, Ms. Grangebotty, who invited me over to her house and opened the door in her nighty. Ms. Grangebotty started, what I can only describe, my "preference" for older women, until, much later, I realized I had many other strange and hitherto unexplored preferences. I was, for all practical purposes, a virgin, especially when it came to gay sex. So protected a life had I led in the English countryside, so oblivious had I been to the goings on at my school (in particular its toilets and cellars, and the changing cabins of the swimming pool), that the subject of man-to-man sex had never figured in my young life. When the two Arabs checked out my dick, however, the inexplicable happened, and probably very much what got me into trouble that faithful day in Dubai.

For when to my left and to my right each an Arab smiled and mischievously tried to peek at my urinating organ, said organ slowly, but by all accounts perceptibly, hardened. I sprung a fucking boner, right there! My prick just stood to attention and wouldn't go down. That two "exotic" guys were eyeing me turned me on, somehow. Even though at that age, pretty much any excitement can set off a stiffy in a young lad, and air travel in particular -- the prolonged sitting, don't you know, exerts pressure on the --well whatever, or so I tried to explain it away. I felt the blood reddening my cheeks. The Arabs stared, and I was hard.

Wish some difficulty I zipped up my trousers, splashed my face with cold water, washed my hands with soap, washed them again, and again, dried them while the Arabs were still behind me throwing glances, and left the toilet. My cock was still hard. There was cold sweat on my forehead. I tried to regain my composure by taking in the views of the airport, looking out over the tarmac (not much to see at three in the morning), did a bit of window shopping. I passed a perfume shop, and a car one could win by filling in a form, and a shop selling electronics. I walked in, looked around for at least five minutes, came out again, and couldn't remember a single thing I had seen in the shop. My mind was entirely occupied by the encounter in the toilet. I couldn't get the young Arabs out of my head. I took a right turn, decided to get something to eat and forget all about them -- and there they were.

Next to the electronics shop was a white double door with a green EXIT sign on top. One side of the door was open, and in the door stood grinning my two Arab friends. For a second I thought it was coincidence, but then I realized one of them was holding the door open with his foot, inviting me in. And then ... in my stupid English civility, I decided to tell them off. They were obviously trying to pick me up and ... I took four steps toward them and was about to tell them in the plummiest accent I could master "look here, chaps, that's not the sort ...", but before I had finished even the thought, one of them had grabbed my arm, pulled me into the staircase behind the door, shut the door, and put a rough hand over my mouth. It smelled of sweet perfume and motor oil. I tried to scream. I tried to wriggle free of his embrace. I kicked and fought, but to no avail. They dragged me down a flight of stairs, out another door, into a Jeep, drove for maybe two minutes across the tarmac right into an unlit hangar. One of them pulled the boarding pass from my breast pocket, said something in Arabic to his friend, then returned the boarding pass.

As the door of the hangar banged shut behind us, they removed me from the car, tied my hands behind my back and sat me down on a metal folding chair, almost in the centrer of the hangar. Faint moonlight flowed into the giant building through a number of small skylights. "I am being kidnapped for ransom money, this has nothing to do with sex," I thought for a second with relief, then realizing I had nothing to be relieved about: "They are kidnapping me! They think I am a rich kid or something. They are fucking kidnapping me!" There was enough light coming in to see that the hangar was empty except for a bit of machinery and tools in one corner, a table and a few chairs. The Arabs now talked, and both lit a cigarette. For a few minutes, they ignored me, standing a few metres away from me, smoking, letting me calm down and maybe calming their own nerves.

When they were done smoking, they approached with the same half friendly, half lecherous smiles I had seen in the toilet. One of them had opened the buttons of his overall -- a grey piece of clothing with Arabic writing and an emblem with a bird on it. They must be workers at the airport, I thought, or at least that's how they got in. Very gently, to my surprise, he lifted me up and untied my hands. The other bloke stood behind me, obviously trying to prevent my escape, had I decided to make a dash for it. He took my right hand, rubbed my wrists where they had been tied, and then firmly, but without hurting me pressed my palm onto his hairy chest. He smiled at me, and moved my hand arounda bit: to the left a few centimetres, then to right, then in a slow circular motion. He wanted me to rub his chest. When I did, he let out a long sigh of pleasure. When he let go of my hand completely, I instinctively withdrew it, even though the thick coat of hair had felt rather nice to the touch. The instant my hand left his chest, he opened his eyes again, stared at me angrily and grabbed my wrist again and let it back onto his pectorals. After a few guided circles over the black mat he let go again. I stroked his chest. I caressed it. I found his nipples and massaged them. I used my other hand now too, and he had his eyes closed and his head back and sighed again. So it was about sex, after all. "They will rape me before they call my folks for money," I thought.

After a while, the man whose chest I rubbed stripped off the upper part of his overalls. He was a bit taller than I, and in perfect shape. Thick black hair covered his brown skin, from the pectorals down over his eight bulging abdominal muscles. He must be some kind of fighter, I thought, army training, or if not than work out in a gym ten hours a day. My right hand found its way over his stomach, upon which he groaned even more, and my left hand moved up to this neck, and over his stubble in his face. His head moved slightly so that his mouth was under my fingertips. He opened his mouth and started sucking on my fingers. With his beautiful dark eyes he looked deep into mine. I realized my cock was hard again, straining to accommodate in my underwear. I am a virgin, I thought, and it worried me. Would they ... ?

At that moment I felt hands at my waist, then at my belt buckle. I had completely forgotten the other man, who now removed my belt, unbuttoned my trousers, pulled them down along with my underwear. Both men stopped to look at my straight, pale cock -- my whole skin had never looked so pale and transparent against the dark olive tones of theirs. I had never felt so naked, so weak, so feminine before. They are using me because they can't have sex with girls without marrying them, I thought. I know something about Middle Eastern culture, educated snob that I am. Or did I? This is not really gay sex. They are just ... and that means they will ... of course they will.

At that moment I felt the rough hands which had previously covered my mouth spreading my buttocks. The second man was kneeling on the floor and now pressing his face against my behind. Instinctively I bent forward to give him access, when I felt his tongue entering my arse, which after twelve hours on a plane must have had a really ripe aroma. My torso bowed down and my head came to rest in the first man's crotch. An overall fell to the floor, and a massive, thick, deep-veined hard cock sprang up, its tip forcing its way into my mouth. I had never before in my life even contemplated sucking another bloke's prick, and there I was, my ass tongued and fingered, and a fat, nine inch cock forcing its way into my throat.

Now, ten years after the act, it seems amazing to me that my first ever try at a cock (of that size!) went so smoothly. One would have expected a young, inexperienced virgin boy to gag or bite down on the tool, but instead, from the very first, forceful entry of the organ into my mouth, I was able to swallow it in its entire length. It glided down past my tonsils into my throat and filled my oral cavity as if it had been purposely made as a receptacle for cock. I was a born deep-throater! It took many more encounters with men and many years for me to realize what a natural cocksucker I was, and what's more, what a born bottom I was! My ass was perfectly hairless and round, and the sphincter muscle tight but not too much so. I never experienced pain being fucked, ever. And my oral cavity, as I have said, was perfectly shaped to fit a huge cock all the way down, without much effort or pain. It was as ifit sucked in men's tools voluntarily, if they were placed close to my lips. Saliva accumulated at the sight of a foreskin and lubricated my mouth. My teeth were perfectly located so as never to give offence, and my palate was soft and pliable, wrapping itself around any male organ pressed against it -- with tender love, or brute force. My throat was soft and tight and gave "a sort of spongy pussy feeling", as ascertained by countless straight and gay men since. In the words of my first "boyfriend" after returning to England, a lorry driver from Birmingham with two wives and seven children: "the best pussy I ever 'ad!".

So there I was, in a Dubai aircraft hangar: cock in my mouth, slurping, gasping, sucking the life out of it, with two calloused, hairy fingers up my arse, and several gobs of spit in and around my crack. To my short-lasting embarrassment, my own cock was rock hard, but it didn't matter much now. The two Arabs only wanted my orifices, not my manhood. I thought about their culture and what I knew of it, or claimed to know, when suddenly, the two men switched places. The second man who had hitherto worked on my boy-cunt came round and grabbed my chin. I could see spit and a brownish streak around his lips from eating my well-travelled ass. He smiled, spat in my face, smiled again. He looked deeply in my eyes, then pressed his thick, filthy lips onto mine. A fat tongue forced them apart and for what seemed minutes he kissed me, forcefully, deeply, ravishingly. It didn't seem to bother him that his mates cock had just been in there. He removed his lips from my mouth and spit a fat wad into my still open mouth, another two evenly spread over my face, then rubbed his spit into my skin, all the while smiling a broad, horny smile. The smile turned softer now, friendlier. Not the smile of an abductor, or a rapist, but the smile of a horny bloke finally fulfilling his craving. And the olive-skinned hairy Arab obviously craved young blond English boarding school fanny. It was when he let go of me to remove his overall completely that I realized the body builder behind me was about to poke my virgin ass.

To say that it was entirely pleasant would be a lie, but I really didn't feel any pain. It was rather like the feeling at the dentist, when your mouth is numb from the anaesthetic, but you can "feel" everything he does, while your teeth feel larger than they are. So it was with my first fuck: I felt the spreading of the cheeks, first a little, then to engulf his whole beer-can thick cock, I gasped for air when in one push he forced his manhood into my innards. For a brief moment, it felt as if he was about to split my body open, but at no point did I have a sensation of real, stinging pain. Again, it seemed that my boy cunt had been shaped to accommodate huge cocks. Remembering the monster I had just sucked, and feeling the man's pelvis bang against my ass, I wondered how such a massive cock could fit all the way into me. After a minute or two, I felt only this: full, fulfilled, and pleasure, immense pleasure whenever he thrust his cock into me. Then the sensations took over, and my mind went more or less blank for the rest the act. The only conscious thought I remember thinking is "I am being raped, and I am loving it!"

The second man, less bulky and muscular, with a flabby stomach and an overpowering smell of sweet perfume and food about him, now forced his slightly crooked and smaller cock into my mouth. Despite the assault on my senses and a slight revulsion, my lips willingly parted as if they had a mind of their own, and my mouth resumed its caressing and sucking, my throat tingling, wanting more of the man's member being thrust further down. I remember thinking afterwards that they might be father and son, for the obviously older man and the muscular stud looked a bit similar. The older man's cock, now withdrawn and pointing at me only half erect, had the same thick vein on the underside, and the same pointed head. If not father and son, than they might at the very least be brothers, or otherwise closely related. "I am being raped by the brothers Ahmed", I remember thinking, when a stream of liquid hit my face with full force. A finger on the hand holding my chin forced my lips apart, and the stream now went right in between my lips: the salty taste of piss filled my mouth and before I could tell myself not to, I had swallowed a mouthful, and then another. The two men grinned at each other, the one fucking me bending forward to get a better view. They said something to each other. Then the older man's cock, now only dripping, entered deeper into my mouth, eager to be pleasured. All the while, the thrusting of the cock in my arse to hard and harder. I remember the sound of aircraft taking off, and of the Arab's nuts slapping against my cheeks. The salty taste of piss lingered in my mouth, its lingering smell mixing with the man's sweet perfume and traces of food and motor oil.

Then I heard the door of the hangar slide open, then bang shut again. There was shouting. The cocks withdrew from my ass and mouth, but hands held me in position. There was more talking, footsteps approaching, then my head was held up towards the newcomer: a young, bearded man in a guard uniform, with the same horny smile that had followed me on countless male faces from the moment I had left the plane. He stood before me in a posture of power and command. He removed a belt with two pistols on it, placed it on the table, the stepped forward and put his hand on my cheek. His palm was soft, but his hand felt bigger than the other men's, and his grip was strong. "So," he said "little English girl-piggie they bring me" he said, and smile. "You enjoy?" I didn't answer. The man unbuttoned his uniform shirt and revealed a lean, chiselled torso with only a bit of fat around the waist which added to his masculine appeal. The was a long scar n the right side. He unbuttoned his fly and fished out a long, slim cock, not as big as my fucker's tool, but beautiful, with a musky smell. He asked again, "you enjoy?"

I was too scared to answer, but instead I grabbed his cock with my right hand, pulled it up towards my mouth, and my lips sucked it in, devoured it, deeper and deeper until I felt it fill out my entire mouth and throat as deep as possible. "He enjoy!" the uniformed man said, and the others laughed. A hand spanked my ass, another slapped my face; I don't know which of them did it, my eyes were closed and my mouth filled with pulsating manhood. An instant later, the fat cock was back pounding my arse, and I was now sucking too cocks, the older man's and the hunky uniformed guy's. The guard withdrew his cock, and again a warm stream sprayed over my face, head, and my back, before returning into my mouth. I swallowed more piss: much sweeter than the first time, and not as rancid.

There was a short interruption when they both withdrew their cocks, grabbed me and placed me on my back on the table, or rather workbench: it was full of the smell of motor oil and grease. The gun belt was right next to my head. The guard now fucked my ass, and the young bloke with the massive cockclimb up on the table and squatted on my face. His crack was full of hair with pieces of shit sticking to them. I closed my eyes and tried not to breathe in too much. For a moment I feared I would faint. He spread his buttocks and I held my breath and shut my eyes firmly when the whole mess of his pinkish-brownish hole came down on my lips. Yet, with a mind of its own, out flipped my tongue and I sucked the life out of the man's arse. The taste, while zesty at first, was not unpleasant. The sensation, however, of my young virgin tongue up a dirty ass was amazing. A thousand thoughts went through my mind, and a thousands sensations interrupted them. I felt debased, yet horny, I wanted them to stop, and yet I felt happy and fulfilled. I was being used my hairy, grown, smell men, debased and treated like a common whore, but I loved it, and felt as if I had found my true purpose in life. My cock oozed cum like never before. The motion of the cocks in my ass and mouth pressed the love juice from me, without me ever touching myself. A musky smell filled my nostrils, and then, without having ever touched my own cock, I realized I was coming: squirting huge loads of spunk all over my pale stomach. The was laughter all round, a caressing hand on my cheek, and three horny smiles as my body shuddered in convulsions.

My orgasm also served as a signal: they removed me from the table and the uniformed guard pointed to the floor. I knelt down. They did not move. One of them put his hands behind his back, instructing me with the gesture do do likewise. I closed my eyes again and opened my mouth wide: not consciously, not because I knew that was what I needed to do, but entirely instinctively. My true nature came to bear and surfaced in the act: my true nature as a cocksucker, on my knees, hands behind my back, waiting to pleasure a man. Or three, as it were. One by one, I serviced the Arab cocks. The guard, having just fucked me, came first, shooting a big load all over my face and mouth. I was about to try wipe away some of his spunk when the older man forced his cock into my throat and shot his load deep down inside me. The fattest, largest cock came last, and by then I had discovered an insatiable taste for cum. I grabbed the fat cock, and sucked on it, until I felt it harden more and pulsate. I opened wide and saw the first wad fly through the air into my mouth, then another, and then I placed my lips over it to suck it dry. I sucked, and sucked, then embraced the man's buttocks and pulled him closer to me, forcing his engorged cock deep into my throat again until I couldn't breath. Finally, I let go, exhausted, and bewildered, and collapsed on my haunches. I do think I lost consciousness for a few seconds.

They helped me up. They gave me tissues to clean my face and stomach, they returned my clothes. Then one of them, the older man, returned with me to the car. Nothing was said during the drive back to the terminal. He escorted me back up the stairs, and before opening the same Emergency Exit door where they had kidnapped me, he squeezed me hand firmly, then drew me nearer, and placed a wet loving kiss on my mouth.

I stepped back into the brightly lit hall of the terminal building, and into the toilets. I looked at my self in the mirror: face flushed, hair dishevelled, there was even cum still above my eyebrows and running down my temples. I washed as best as I could, when I heard the "Final Call" announcement for my flight. With face and hands still wet I ran towards the gate, showed my boarding pass, ran down the gangway, found my seat and collapsed into it with a sigh. An elderly lady in my row turned towards me: "Oh you are all wet, deary, you almost didn't make it. So many shops, eh? It's amazing the things you can get here at the airport, isn't it."

"Yes," I replied, "truly amazing".