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How to Train your Iraqi

December 2, 2015

Is that title offensive?


He’s been different this time. He said he understands that he shouldn’t be so forward. He’s been considerate and sweet. Attentive but respectfully distant. He came over a few times and we just talked and kissed before the first time.

The first time was…………interesting. Rather quick. Way too quick.

And then there’s the noise he made. When he reached his peak, he let out a very passionate, very high-pitched, very loud and extended…….squeal?…is that the right word? It was the sound you might hear from a young girl if a mouse ran across the floor. I mean if said girl was actually afraid of mice, which of course, not all girls are.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I tried to shush him, knowing my neighbor probably heard every breath of his exclamation.

Well, this is new, I thought to myself as he retreated to the bathroom. I wanted to text Liz right then. “You’re not going to believe this one.” But I didn’t. I held out for a reenactment at lunch the next day.

He gave me a nice massage and becoming aroused again, we gave it another go. This time he managed to put his head in a pillow but I couldn’t hold in my laughter. It was bizarre watching this big, muscular man, a full head of beautiful curly hair make such incongruous noises, seemingly with no control over the screeches that accompanied his spasms of pleasure.


I feel a little guilty writing this. He’s a sweet man and he’s been really kind to me. He took me to see a movie on Thanksgiving Day. He doesn’t spend any time at #5 without offering to give me a massage, which I told him I would never say no to. He tells me he likes me and that I’m beautiful and interesting. He lets me play with his hair and kiss him as long as I want to. He tries to teach me Arabic words and I try to get him to differentiate his b’s from his p’s. He holds me in my bed, all affection and warmth. And the other things are getting better, too. It’s almost cute when he buries his head in my neck, muffling his uncontrollable song. And I’m getting him to slow down a bit more, to enjoy the getting to the end as much as the end. He’s good for me right now. And when he says, “don’t leave me….” the phrase that had alarmed and frightened me before, he does it with a laugh, knowing I can’t promise him anything. “I know you will leave me,” he said. “and I’m happy to be with you as long as I can.”

“That’s perfect.” I said.




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