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Rob liked to make an entrance, so he waited behind the hamam. It was a small stone structure on the outskirts of Izumir, Türkiye. No one around here knew that Rob owned it. He had bought it recently to be sure he would be allowed in, despite not being Turkish.
After an hour or so of waiting, he saw Yusuf approach cautiously, his hefty frame shaking beneath his salvar, jubba and fez. He stopped to pet a fat cat lounging on a bench by the door, then swaggered into the hamam as though on his way to a fight.
Yusuf’s eyes scanned the hamam as he entered it, but he didn’t see any Americans. Rob had sent him an anonymous letter claiming to be an American tourist who wanted to jack his dick for a thousand American dollars. That was a lot of money anywhere, but to Yusuf it was enough to make him do almost anything.
And for Yusuf, cornholing men in the hamam was not that strange of a request. As long as he was on top, he had done nothing wrong, as far as he was concerned — though he considered all of his bottoms to be in a state of grave sin.
But Yusuf didn’t know who Rob was. So he awkwardly walked into the hamam’s camekân and removed his clothes, leaving the fez for last. When he took it off, a big mess of black curls was revealed upon his scalp. He wore a loincloth only when he moved deeper into the hamam. A few dozen Turks milled around, hairy chests gleaming with shower water. They wore the same loincloth, as did Rob, who stood out as a gleaming white, hairless pale man in a sea of swarthy Turks.
Yusuf didn’t see him right away. He moved into the hamam’s colder soğukluk and then its warmer ılıklık and finally the steaming hot hararet, which induced intense perspiration. The loincloth soon came off, and Yusuf, like the others, sat in the steam stark-naked. Rob did too, though he was worried he would get a hardon, so he tried to remain demure.
Yusuf wondered if that letter had been a prank. He was glad he hadn’t told anyone where he was coming or why. He had read the letter in a cafe, drinking strong Turkish coffee — the best coffee in the world — and had kept his face stoic so nobody would know what kind of offer he was entertaining.
It was normal, in a hamam, for a strong man like Yusuf to come up behind a weaker, smaller man and cornhole them. The weaker man would take his dick and swallow his load, and Yusuf could stop thinking about women for a few moments at least. That’s why it wasn’t sinful for him, Yusuf thought. His imam had explained it. It replaced a grave sin — coveting a woman — with a very minor indiscretion.
Still, it was only proper to do it in the dark where no one saw it and to deny it when asked even if everyone knew you did it — what happened in the hamam, stayed in the hamam.
Yusuf approached a Turk who was slim and middle-aged. He seemed possibly American even if he was obviously Turkish by descent.
The smaller Turk trembled when Yusuf grabbed his cock and shook it in the smaller Turk’s direction. Yusuf’s great wrestling-toned muscles flexed. Shower water dripped through his chest hair.
“What do you want?” asked the smaller Turk in fluent Turkish, as he blanched and looked away.
Yusuf frowned. Obviously this was not the American who sent the letter. Yusuf stalked away.
He made sure all the guys in here could see his cock. He liked being the biggest man in the room, especially in a hamam where smaller men were treated poorly. Yusuf knew that well because he was often the one who treated them poorly.
“What are you looking at?” Yusuf asked one of the men near him. He didn’t intend to pick a fight, but as soon as he said it, he knew that would happen, and he wasn’t about to turn the other cheek.
The other fighter was Mustafa, and he was just a little smaller than Yusuf. He puffed his chest out, until their nipples touched and their chest-hair rubbed against each other, their sweat intermingling as it ran down their bellies.
A few more words were exchanged before the first fists flew. A part of Yusuf knew the only reason he had picked this fight was that he felt weak and vulnerable right now, so he felt a need to demonstrate that he was neither. He hoped this “wealthy American” was watching.
He was. Rob stood there in a shadowy corner of the hamam, close enough he could feel the perk asscheeks of the lithe Turk in front of him. Those plump brown orbs rubbed against Rob’s cock. That was ordinary enough around here that the young Turk didn’t realize it was happening, not even when Rob’s dick twitched.
Yusuf knocked Mustafa down and mounted his chest to punch him in the face. His heavy balls left a layer of sweat on Mustafa’s chest. He didn’t get to punch him much in this position because someone grabbed him and dragged him off before too long.
Mustafa staggered to his feet as the hamam settled down, and Yusuf watched Mustafa leave. He crossed his arms over his chest and flexed his muscles. He sneered. “You had better run, weakling.”
He realized that that wealthy American must not be coming. He turned around to leave, cock flopping out and slapping Rob in the face — Rob had kneeled behind Yusuf. The sweat streaked down Rob’s face. He looked up at Yusuf and, above his head, the domed ceiling of the hamam.
“Hi, I’m American. My name is Rob.” Rob looked up at Yusuf, who stopped short.
He was obviously white, and when he spoke, blatantly American; Yusuf had learned English from an Australian, so the stranger’s American accent sounded wrong to him. Yusuf furrowed his brow. It was obvious what was about to happen, but he was dismayed that it was to happen here, in the center of the hamam, where a dozen men could see.
A thousand dollars was a lot of money. Yusuf could buy plenty of rosewater-flavored sweets with that, and Yusuf’s masculinity couldn’t be questioned, since he just beat someone up. He kept his arms folded over his chest and didn’t say a word.
A few men snickered as Rob waddled forward on his knees, reaching for Yusuf’s cock. Some of them whispered too.
“He must owe a debt…”
“Yusuf is tough like that, he does not allow insults to his manhood.”
Yusuf wrinkled his nose. Somehow the rumor had already spread within the hamam that Rob was jacking Yusuf off because he owed him money, probably for gambling. That was unislamic of him, and of course Rob was obviously not Muslim, so no one thought it inappropriate to make him jack dick. Nobody seemed to notice that Rob jacked cock enthusiastically, voluntarily and without a moment’s hesitation.
Yusuf was fine with that, of course. He looked stronger and tougher this way.
As his dick disappeared into Rob’s throat, he decided to play along. He gripped Rob’s ears and drilled his cock in deeply. In Turkey, if someone owed you money and you were getting paid back this way, you were supposed to cornhole hard. Yusuf’s father had told him to “take ownership” of the man’s mouth and to make him feel all the humiliation his position required. There was nothing more shameful than a man on his knees in front of another man, so it was Yusuf’s duty to ensure he felt that shame.
He spat on Rob’s face. The others in the hamam laughed and jeered, and some of them thwacked Rob’s head with their own limp cocks. Yusuf spat again and again, until Rob’s face was coated with his sticky spittle.
“You make his face as shameful as his spirit…”
“Destroy his throat, Yusuf!”
Yusuf began to get nervous. He had begun plowing into Rob’s throat assuming Rob would make him stop or at least go easy on him. He wanted Rob to beg for mercy. But as he made eye contact with Rob, he realized that wouldn’t happen — he could see in Rob’s eyes that he wanted every bit of this, that Yusuf couldn’t use his face too hard for Rob’s liking.
It felt better than any throat from a female too. Yusuf felt guilty about that. Was it a sin to actually enjoy this? Did that make it worse? He wasn’t sure.
What was most important, he thought, was secular — he was going to look like the toughest guy in the hamam after this. He let go of Rob’s head, deciding to go the other route — rather than force his cock down Rob’s throat, he demanded Rob deep-throat him and slapped him when he failed.
“Get all the way down on it,” Yusuf said. He smacked Rob when he gagged without his nose nestling all the way in Yusuf’s unkempt pubic bush. Rob didn’t mind, and he even slurped weakly to provoke the slaps — he loved that. He also loved that Yusuf didn’t trim his pubic hair. So many men did these days that Rob enjoyed it when he got the full bush experience. Yusuf’s pubic hair smelled like a copper penny and scratched at Rob’s face.
His hands roamed up to Yusuf’s powerful chest, which was just as hairy, with a thick layer of coarse, kinky black hairs. When Rob touched his nipples, Yusuf’s pecs flexed and Yusuf slapped his hands away. “This isn’t for you, pervert. You are here to serve me.”
Rob stuck his bare ass in the air. He knew that, if he asked to get cornholed, that would look especially pervy and unislamic to the other men. So he just shook his ass, aimed at the others but sticking it high enough in the air to attract Yusuf’s attention to.
His precum flowed down Rob’s throat, but Yusuf was thinking about Rob’s ass. Could he do that? Of course he could. He had done it with a prostitute once. It felt amazing. Would it be the same on a man? Would the others consider it wrong?
“I think he likes it…”
“Yusuf must not be kidding about that little one being a pervert…”
Yusuf groaned. He needed to blow his load, and now that he saw Rob’s bare, smooth ass with its tight hole beckoning, Yusuf knew exactly where he was going to blow it.
He pulled out and pushed Rob onto the floor in one smooth motion. Rob was still dizzy and gasping for air from the deep-throating as he felt his asscheeks get spread open wide.
“Get in him, Yusuf!”
“Destroy his asshole! Make him feel it!”
They whooped and hollered. They had all gathered that Rob was totally into it, but they preferred to act like Rob was simply repaying a debt. They could purport to be so tough they went to hamams where ruffians cornholed weaker men, and they managed to go there without losing their own masculinity. That would improve their image and their family’s pride. Admitting they went to the kind of hamam where men perved out with each other would have the opposite impact.
So it was convenient for everyone to pretend that this was a debt-repayment. Even Rob jacking himself off and moving his ass back onto Yusuf’s cock of his own accord didn’t lead them to acknowledge that this was Rob’s choice. They could never have stayed to watch — or even allowed it to continue — if they knew that Rob wanted this so bad he had paid for it.
But Yusuf had no interest in letting them realize that. He pounded away at Rob’s ass, softly at first because that just seemed right. Rob, however, didn’t complain. He gasped and squirmed and moaned, a sound that Yusuf loved to hear, and Rob begged for more.
So Yusuf cornholed harder and harder. He hoped to make Rob tell him to slow down. If he tore him up enough, surely even a pervert would need to take a break, Yusuf thought.
But there seemed to be no signs of that happening. Yusuf let out a frustrated grunt that turned into a howl of desire as an orgasm erupted within him. He had a tense, furrowed-brow look as he cornholed, making his climax seem more like an angry explosion of rage than an orgasm. That was just the way he liked it.
He roared and cursed in Turkish, pounding on his chest like Tarzan. He smacked Rob’s asscheeks hard too, hard enough to make Rob cry out, moan and buckle. Rob furiously jacked himself off as pain and pleasure erupted in his ass in equal measure.
The sound of the other men cheering him on vanished. At first Rob thought it was just because of the intensity of his orgasm that overwhelmed the sound of everyone else in the hamam. But then he realized they had all genuinely fallen silent. Perhaps it felt too pervy to literally watch and cheer. So they all looked down at their own feet and the humid water condensing on their limp dicks instead. They avoided seeing Rob and Yusuf loudly orgasm.
“Take it! Take every drop of it!” Yusuf said with a roar. He laid his strapping chest on Rob’s back, pinning him in place as they both orgasmed. His kinky black hairs scratched Rob’s smooth skin.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, a giant load that kept on going and going. Yusuf stopped moving for a moment, his hot breath condensing on Rob’s face even in the warm hamam. Cum flowed like piss, great gobs of it that coated Rob’s insides in creamy warmth.
Yusuf grunted and flexed his hips as he shot another wad, making a moist squelching sound that caused the others to laugh and grimace. A few drops of cum spilled out onto the floor.
At last Rob’s orgasm was done, but Yusuf’s was not. He kept on grinding his dick into Rob’s ass, making him squirm some more. It was painful, but Rob didn’t mind. He liked feeling Yusuf’s muscles tense and relax on his back, and Yusuf’s breath on his ear, and he liked being squashed beneath his weight, which forced his belly to wallow in his own wad of cum he had shot onto the floor. He looked up to see a dozen naked Turks watching with wide-eyed amazement, their dicks soft, balls crawling up in their sacs because they were nervous.
Yusuf snarled. He pushed Rob’s head down and gyrated his hips one last time. That made Rob cry out and writhe in agony, and it nearly made Rob get hard all over again. If Yusuf had done it twice, Rob would have been ready to go once more.
But Yusuf let go of Rob, pushing him onto the puddle of cum and stagnant shower water on the floor.
Yusuf crossed his arms over his chest again and flexed his biceps as the other Muslims cheered, somewhat nervously. His cock looked bigger than over, gleaming with moisture and analjuice. A few drops of cum dripped from the tip.
A proudful sneer crossed Yusuf’s face. He spread Rob’s asscheeks so everyone could see that gaping hole. “Look at that nasty, what a whore,” Yusuf said.
“Ew!”
“He is bringing his decadent Western ways to Turkey!”
Rob just smiled and stood. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m leaving Turkey right now.”
“You’re not trying to turn our men into perverts?”
Rob shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. He pushed into the crowd of guys. Most of them attempted to step away from him, because no one wanted to touch his body covered in cum and Yusuf’s sweat. Even a few of Yusuf’s dark coarse hairs clung to Rob’s skin, matted there with a mixture of both men’s sweat. Rob didn’t want to clean off, not yet.
“Disgusting! We shall call the police!”
“We mustn’t allow the Western pervert to stay in here and corrupt us all!”
No one followed Rob, which was exactly how he liked it. He went to a shadowy corner of the hamam, while he listened to the men excitedly talk about calling the police — it seemed no one wanted to actually do it, for fear it would look like they were perverts too.
Rob didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stick around. “Thanks, Yusuf,” he said. He passed the cash to Yusuf, who had just realized he forgot to get paid. He had been so relieved to cum he hadn’t asked for it.
Everyone saw him take cash from the American. Yusuf cleared his throat and said, “this is a fine payment on your debt, weakling.”