Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Driving across London might not be the longest journey in the world, but it’s a slow one. I had been in this little Toyota for half an hour and we were still a long way from home. The driver was Asian, a short, stocky guy wearing a white shirt and khaki shorts, which I thought was unusual, even in the height of summer. He looked quite smart, but not like a cab driver normally dresses.
We were chatting to pass the time, first about cricket and then on to immigration. He had been born in London but his parents were from a remote town in Uttar Pradesh. I didn’t know where that was, but I grunted when he told me as if I wasn’t totally stupid.
“The gay capital of India,” he said with a smile. I let the remark pass and we fell silent for a while. But since we were on the subject, which I wouldn’t have dared bring up, I found myself looking at his hairy thighs and wondering . Wondering if he had planted that thought to see what I would do.
“I didn’t think Indian men were gay,” I said. “You know, I didn’t think it was a common thing.”
“It’s all over the world,” he said. “I don’t know what percentage. In lot of cultures they deny that it happens, but it’s everywhere. Where I come from your uncles try it on.”
I thought for a moment before replying.
“Anyone ever try it on with you?”
“Sure,” he said. “A friend of my father’s propositioned me when I was about 16. He was giving me a lift somewhere and I was wearing shorts like these. He just slid his hand up one leg. I mean, what are you going to do? It’s a surprise but before you know it, there’s a hand in there. And it feels good. What are you going to do?”
With that, he put a hand on my leg and I saw what he meant. A flash of eroticism shot through me and suddenly I would have been prepared to do something I might regret.
I put my hand on his left leg and slid it up into his shorts, pausing at the top but not looking for any treasure.
“Like that?” I said as casually as I could.
“Like that,” he said. “Are you in a hurry?”
“Not really,” I replied. It was two thirty in the afternoon and I had plans for the evening, but other than that, nothing. “Why?”
He turned into a side street and parked under a tree. My hand had retreated from his shorts and was now on his leg. He patted it casually.
“My house,” he said. “We can have a drink and a sandwich. I’m starving.”
It was a quiet suburban street, the kind where nothing ever seems to happen, yet you know all sorts must be going on really.
As soon as he closed the front door he stopped and looked at me and unzipped his shorts.
“On your knees,” he said. He wasn’t threatening, just very sure of himself. I didn’t consider myself gay, but I did think about it a lot sometimes. As his shorts hit the floor and he stepped out of them I thought about it for sure. He was wearing green and blue briefs and he ducked a hand into them and flopped his cock and balls over them. I knew they were going to be hairy because his legs were, but I uydukent escort wasn’t prepared for the effect it would have on me.
I got on my knees as instructed and just looked at what was in front of me. I was in a private place with a cab driver I had just met, and it was what’s known as a “sexual opportunity”. He had brought me here to seduce me.
His cock was rising steadily and it was like a siren call to my gay side. I touched it, I stroked it with the back of my hand and the I found myself pulling his pants down so we were unencumbered.
“Have you ever sucked an Indian cock before?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said. “You think I’m going to suck your cock?”
“I know you want to,” he said. “And there is no reason not to. No one else here. You’re in my house, safe and sound. You might not be gay exactly but neither am I. We just have a perfect opportunity to do something exciting.”
“Can I see your bedroom?” I asked, playing for time.
“Suck me a bit first,” he said firmly. I was kneeling there at the altar of his sexuality. I could smell the slightly sweaty, salty aroma of what lived in his underpants.
“Suck my cock,” he whispered. ” I want you to. You want to. We can have a beautiful time for half an hour and then I’ll take you home.”
I looked at his circumcised cock, which had now risen and was standing before me like a big, bad wicked temptation. I had already touched it. It would be silly not to enjoy it. I put my hand under his balls, which were big and hairy in their dark, almost grey sack. I knew if I did this there was probably nothing I wouldn’t do, nothing I wouldn’t allow this man to do. Did I want that?
I put my arms around the man’s legs and held him just below his buttocks. He was looking down at me, but at that point he raised his eyes to the ceiling.
I sucked that Indian man’s penis. I took it in my mouth and felt the plump smoothness of his cock head. My tongue played with that part underneath where a little piece of skin sort of holds onto it. Then I withdrew and just looked at it.
“Bedroom,” he said, leading the way up the stairs.
He kissed me, pulling me to him and slipping his hands under my t shirt. He licked across my lips in a way that no one had ever done before. He unzipped my jeans and forced a hand into my underpants, then pushed me onto the bed. He removed his shirt and I got out of my clothes.
He knelt above me, his cock and balls over my face.
“Are there any gay Indians?” he mocked. “There are Indian guys who like to be sucked off by white guys. You want to do that for me?” I nodded helplessly.
“You have to rim me first,” he said. “You understand? You have to lick my arse.”
Again I nodded.
“Have you ever licked an Indian man’s arse?” he asked aggressively. I shook my head.
“You will like it,” he said. ” You will love it.”
He knelt on the bed.
“Do it,” he ordered. His buttocks were hairy like I had never seen before, zeytinburnu escort so I played with them for a second, running my fingers through the hair. I felt him right down his thighs and back up through the middle until I reached the warm nest where his balls lived. I held his rampant penis.
“Lick my arse,” he commanded.
“Or what?” I teased.
“Or you will miss the most thrilling time of your life,” he said. “Because if you don’t lick my arse you can’t suck my cock again and you will miss the chance of being fucked by a hairy Indian. And you want that, don’t you?”
“Do I want you to fuck me?” I repeated.
“You know you do, he said “I know you do. I could feel it when we were in the car. Asking me questions about Indian guys. We keep ourselves to ourselves, mainly. But I know there are certain white men who find us fascinating. And you’re one of them, aren’t you?”
I was gently wanking him as he spoke, feeling the rigidity of his erection. He was talking to me from a position on all fours, talking about my fascination with him while I was naked on his bed with his cock in my hand and my face right next to his arse.
I put my nose at the top of his backside slide and poked my tongue out as far as I could, so the tip was deep between his buttocks, touching his anus. Then I let go of his cock and concentrated on the main task: licking his hairy Indian arsehole. He groaned as I attended to his most depraved need.
“Oh, fucking lick my arse,” he said dreamily. “Fucking lick my arse. You want a 69?”
He put me on my back and knelt above me with his astonishingly hairy pubic region over my face. At the other end, he took my eager hardon in his mouth.
” Do you like having sex with an Indian?” he asked between sucks. I had taken his penis into my mouth and was marveling at its smoothness and firmness.
“I love it,” I said. The time for games had passed. I was now on an express train to ecstasy and I would play my part seriously. In fact I was already in ecstasy. My destination was an almighty orgasm – two almighty orgasms. Him first, because I needed to see, feel and taste his spunk. And then mine, to seal this momentous occasion with my final confirmation of his sexual hold over me.
We sucked each other’s cocks hungrily and passionately. He stretched forward and got his tongue into my crack, then poked a finger into it.
Not only was I powerless to resist this man, I had switched sides and was now complicit in this act of debauchery. I wanted so badly to have his cock inside me.
“Lube?” I asked breathlessly. He got some and prepared me. I knelt on the bed – his bed – and exposed my arse for him. He reached around and played with my nipples.
“Nobody has ever fucked me before,” I confided quietly. “Your big bad brown Indian cock will be the first.”
“Good,” he said. “You were destined to lose your virginity to me. You worship my body. Don’t you?”
He was very firm in his manner. At şişli escort this point he was the teacher, teaching me something for my own good.
“You want to put the condom on?” He asked. I immediately sprang into a different position and tore open the sachet. He was kneeling up like a four-legged animal. That was what he was, and what I wanted him to be: an animal. His cock was so stiff and virile. I placed the condom on the tip and rolled it down, smoothing it and sucking it briefly just to see what a rubbery cock tasted like. It didn’t taste as good as his penis.
He motioned for me to turn round again.
“Don’t cum in that,” I said. ” I want to see and feel your spunk.”
He leaned in and forced his rod inside me. I yelped and squirmed away, but he pulled me back towards him.
“You’re not a girl,” he said quietly. “You’re a man. It doesn’t hurt that much, does it?”
He was sliding back as he spoke, and suddenly his cock in my arse felt fantastic. It felt right. It felt huge. It felt natural.
“See?” he said, sensing the change. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Start again,” I said urgently. “I want to feel it go in again.”
He withdrew and did as I asked. I loved the moment when his cock head went through the resistant ring and plunged into me.
“Again,” I said. “Faster.”
Again he withdrew, lined himself up and rammed his cock into my arsehole.
“You like the feeling of being penetrated,” he said happily. “Now I’m going to push my bad Indian cock as far up you as I can. He leaned, pushed and held on to my waist. He fucked me deeply, firmly, fiercely.
“Shit,” I said.
“Okay?” he grunted.
“Fuck,” I said. “Incredible.”
I put a hand round to feel his hairy thighs and I reveled in the thought of what was happening between me and this brown, furry human animal. An hour earlier I had never met him. Now his wicked penis was in my anus, touching parts of me that had never been touched before.
“If you don’t want me to cum in the rubber I’d better stop now,” he said tremulously.
“Okay,” I said. I even got a thrill from the feeling of him coming out of me. We both knelt up and I pulled the condom off. His shaft was slippery with lubricant and some of his own fluid around the tip.
I looked into this man’s eyes and said salaciously,” I’ve just been fucked up the arse by an Indian man.” He smiled.
“That’s right, white man. I’ve just had my cock up your arse,” he said. “And now you can have my semen.”
I was masturbating him; blatantly, openly, homosexually masturbating this hairy brown man. His face changed as he came. His semen gushed into my open hand, soft, warm, slippery, precious, sinful. My depravity was now complete. I was kneeling on a man’s bed with his penis in one hand, his spunk in the other and a hot sensation in my anus from the fact that his cock had just been in there. I dipped a finger in his silvery semen and put it in my mouth.
He placed his palm on mine and grabbed his own fluid, then pulled me to him and kissed me deeply as he wiped his spunk into my arse. He thrust a slippery finger into me.
I grabbed my own cock and masturbated. I ejaculated into his pubic hair and he smiled and smeared it round, the strangely ammonia-like smell of his and mine floating up into our nostrils.