The three years Akram was with us were precious and we all knew that we were lucky to have spent them with him. He made it possible for all of us to engage in regular, safe, and healthy sex without disturbing our academic endeavors. In fact, under the guidance and supervision of Chun, our sex life made us better students and wiser human beings. My periods, which were often irregular during exam time, now arrived and left like clockwork, clean and mainly painless. My skin was clear and my appetite was always healthy. Li, who had been suffering from mysterious allergic reactions to all manners of food, suddenly cleared up and was able to sleep through her nights without needing to take Benadryl.
The second year with us, Akram began to behave more and more like a gentle mentor to all of us, counseling us on the art of living well and being good. His cock was as powerful and fulfilling as ever, but he seemed to have matured during that year and spoke to us with a more philosophical tone than he used to. He began to frequent the mosque more regularly and grew a thin beard that gave him a serious, fatherly look.
We always took him with us when we went on trips, afraid to go by ourselves, and he always made time for us. When we went to Florida, our first trip as a group, we rented a large station wagon and drove down for three days, the six of us laughing and singing and telling jokes all the way to Miami. We took turns sitting beside Akram and necked and French-kissed him for hours, and he patiently indulged us, making love to each one of us if he hadn't touched a woman in weeks. Ling-Ling, who was still with us and had not landed her boyfriend yet, sucked at his mouth and nose greedily and at one point began to bite his cheek and jaws until we forcibly stopped her, having to pull over to restrain her wild outburst. (Akram had to finger her to an orgasm before we were able to resume our trip.) I usually drove in such trips, but I did get my turn to sit by Akram's side and be fondled and kissed by him, me more passionately, it seemed to me, than he did with the other girls, as if to thank me for my quiet maturity and patience.
At night, when we stopped to sleep in a Motel, it was usually Chun who stayed in his room, although sometimes, tired or not in the mood, she would let one of us take her place and be Akram's wife for the night.
We all knew what Akram liked and what he didn't like, and those of us who did know taught the rest who didn't. Akram hated messy rooms and clothes on the floor; he hated open doors while in a room, and he couldn't stand it when someone left a bottle open without its cap.
"Do one thing at a time," he used to counsel us, "and focus your mind on that one thing while you are doing it, and you will see how much better your life will become."
When it came to sex, Akram liked a clean pussy and was irritated a little if you opened your legs and exposed a vagina that needed to be cleaned up. But even in such situations he was gentle and sweet with us and merely took us by the hand and himself washed our pussy for us, smiling and shaking his head.
A good Muslim, Akram fasted the Holy month of Ramadan, during which he abstained from eating and drinking and sex from sunrise to sunset. Not even water was he allowed to drink -- even when it was unbearably hot and he was sweating like a horse. During that month, Akram abstained from sex not just during daylight, but for the whole month.
"At least you will share a little of the Ramadan spirit with me," he told us when we complained that it was not fair for us to go for a whole month without sex when we had become used to regular coitus.
"It will pass fast," he consoled us.
But it did not go fast. It was painful. And to us, it appeared like unnecessary, gratuitous privation
When the month was over, we went to visit him to celebrate. He had several friends visiting his apartment, mainly Arab and Pakistani, and they all had the same tired, exhausted look that Akram had on his face. They looked at us and smiled widely, and one of them, a broad shouldered young man who looked a lot older than he really was, laughed out loud and called out to Akram, "Your pigeons are here."
Akram nodded and gave the young man a stern look, and politely welcomed us to sit down, escorting his male friends out the door.
