College Boy Blows Iraqi Sniper While Girlfriend Sleeps Upstairs

He made no effort to hide his dislike of me. Every time I came back into the kitchen he would fix me with this intense, hostile gaze. He told people that he’d been a sniper in the Iraqi Army. I had no doubt that he’d killed — you could see it in his eyes — and I was this skinny white gay boy who’d never done anything worse than shoplifting. I dreaded every encounter with him.

I worked there for over a year and eventually I became a waiter, which meant a lot more interaction with Hannad, and I guess we reached a sort of truce. He wasn’t my friend but he wasn’t set on intimidating me anymore, either.

Then one night I was out at the bar with some friends when I spotted him off in the corner. Feeling bold cause I was buzzed, I walked over to him and said hi. We started having an actual conversation, and I realized, as it got later and we got drunker, that he was flirting with me. He pointed to a girl in a red dress, said something about the color red, then showed me, by lowering the waistband of his nylon pants, that he was wearing red underwear. It was a pretty obvious overture and it made me half hard. When the bar let out he said, ‘You come with me.’

I thought we’d go back to his place but instead he took me to a diner, like we were on some weird date. He said that there were Iraqi men who performed songs about loving young boys. I was twenty-one at the time but I had a boyish, innocent look, and I guess he responded to that.

We went back to his apartment and ended up on his bed. I rubbed his soft dick through the crotch of his nylon pants. As he got erect he kissed me roughly. He was all brute strength, throwing me back on the bed and holding me down while he took off his clothes. He took out his cock, which wasn’t anything spectacular but it was hard. I blew him for a while and then he wanted to fuck me. I wasn’t used to getting fucked, but I was too afraid to say no to him. So I let him hold me back on the bed and toss my legs over my head. He did not take his time — it hurt like hell! He was rough and unforgiving and after awhile I had to make him stop. I finished by sucking him off and letting him cum all over my face.

After that night, we got along famously. He drafted me as his workout partner and I joined his gym. After my first weight-lifting lesson we went back to his place and sat on the couch, pleasantly tired and weak-muscled. He put on some porn, and eventually I reached over to feel his erect cock. I took it out — it was dank and sweaty — and leaned over to blow him. I had more fun this time, I felt more relaxed with him. I held on to his balls — he wouldn’t let me get anywhere near his ass — and sucked his little cock for all it was worth. He blew a load in my mouth and all the while a cheesy studio portrait of him and his girlfriend beamed down at us from the mantle.

The next time we’d been out drinking and had gone back to his place even though his girlfriend was home. He had a couch and a TV set up in the basement and I got on my knees before him there, sucked his cock and swallowed down his cum while his girlfriend slept upstairs.

One time I was with him when he fucked a girl. He wanted me to join in but I just wasn’t into it. I got behind him and watched him fuck. He had his boxer shorts on but I pulled them down so I could look at his muscled ass. He hated that! He pulled them up but I just pulled them back down, watching his firm butt thrusting while I jacked off and came into my hand.

He fucked me once more, this time after a party at his apartment where the only guests were me and his extremely drunk straight friend. After his friend passed out Hannad took me into the bedroom and bent me over. I was more into the idea of getting fucked than I had been the first time, but I still couldn’t take it for very long. I was (and still am) a lousy bottom, it just took me a while to realize it.

Through it all we became genuine friends. He told me sad stories about Iraq, like how they used to drug him when he was in Saddam’s army to make him a better killer. He’d come to America when the U.S. Army recruited him after the first Gulf War and he missed Iraq badly. I was with him in the weeks leading up to 2003 invasion of Iraq and he was visibly, understandably perturbed. I lost contact with him when I changed jobs. Last I heard he made it back to Iraq, and I sure hope he’s okay. Underneath all his aggression he was a genuinely sweet guy who’d been through enough.