Lt. Muthana Shaad stroked away furiously, eyeing himself in the mirror, the scarlet red lipstick marks where he'd written "PERVERT" across his own chest.
As he studied it, he gasped, exploded and found release.
It wasn't easy being a Gay Boy police officer in Iraq. Let alone in the Sadr City section of Baghdad. Clerics were calling for men to be executed, gay men, just for doing what Muthana did on those rare times when he got lucky, suck a little cock.
Munthana lived life covered in his own shame. Well, covered in his own shame and his own cum currently. But most of the time, it was just his shame.
Could he help it if he was the way Allah had made him?
So what if he nightly dreamed about Nouri al-Maliki bending his legs, bending Munthana in fact, in order to ram it in deep, long and hard.
Just thinking about it, made Munthana shudder. Just thinking about Nouri's fleshy, saggy belly and that bald head. Munthana sighed a deep sigh.
And wondered if any of his co-workers had noticed anything different about him. Not yet, he was sure. Not yet.
[For those less interested in fiction and more interested in reality for Iraq's LGBT community, see Timothy Williams and Tareq Maher's New York Times article "Iraq’s Newly Open Gays Face Scorn and Murder."]