The Craving

Nisan 25, 2024 Yazar admin 0


I don’t know why I felt like I did that day. I just woke up wanting to get fucked and I knew who I wanted to do it. Raj was this old Indian guy who ran a small shop. He was short and hairy and had a big belly. Nice guy. We always had a little chat when I went in there, and at first I hadn’t thought of him in a sexual way. That day, though, in my mind he just turned into Mr Sex.

I didn’t know if he would even be interested, but I had to find out, and what I planned to do was what girls had done with me often enough. I was going to hang around needlessly, brush past him, bend over – the works. He closed for an hour at lunchtime and that was when I planned to do it. I just love sex in the daytime.

I walked into the shop just before 12 and found him stocking up – putting things on the shelves. Perfect. I asked if I could give him a hand and he was pleased to accept. I “awkwardly” touched his hand with mine as I picked up some cans of beans and then maneouvred myself in front of him so that when I stood up, my ass would stick out and bump into the front of him. I actually felt his little bulge when I did that, but he quickly moved back. The second time I did it he didn’t move. He stood his ground and his cock was next to my arse with just a few bits of fabric in between.

And the third time I did it, I wriggled a little bit and I thought he pressed forwards a bit.

I turned and smiled at him.

“You closing for lunch now?”

“Yes,” he said. “Ah, do you, er, fancy a cup of tea?”

“Great,” I said, and after he had locked up I followed him out the back and up the stairs to his flat. He put the kettle on and got two mugs ready. Nervously he dropped a teabag on the floor and I bent over to pick it up, staying bent over longer than I needed to.

When the tea was ready we went into the front room and his laptop was on. I touched the keypad and it woke up. It was etiler escort a picture of two Indian men, naked and kissing.

Raj was fiddling with the radio and I wasn’t sure if he had seen what I had done. I stepped away from the little desk. He stood up and looked at me, then put his hand into his big loose trousers and scratched himself.

“Excuse me,” he said. “You know…”

I put my own hand onto the front of my jeans and gave my cock a little squeeze.

Raj walked over to me and said, “Is it my imagination, or…”

“No,” I said. “It’s not your imagination.” I looked into the open neck of his shirt and saw his greying, hairy chest. Perhaps reading my mind, he pulled his shirt over his head. I couldn’t resist. I put my arms around him and began kissing his chest. He pulled my head up and kissed me on the mouth. My hands groped for his button and zip and I found myself feeling a forest of hair in his boxer shorts.

“You can suck me if you want,” he said. “I would like that.”

I got on my knees and lowered his trousers and pants to the floor before taking his dark, mysterious cock in my hand and guiding it into my mouth.

Raj stroked my head and after a while said, “I think you should disrobe too.” Beautiful word. Funny how Indians use formal vocabulary sometimes. I stood up and wrenched my t-shirt over my head, then sat on the sofa to remove everything else. Raj sat beside me, doing the same.

“I didn’t know if you were gay or not,” he said quietly.

“Bi,” I said.

I was now naked on a sofa with a naked, gloriously hairy Indian guy, in broad daylight. He leaned oer and kissed me and wrapped his hairy arms around me. His furry chest rubbed against my smooth skin.

I felt like the baddest most sinful person ever as he lowered his head and sucked my knob.

“What do you want to do?” he asked calmly. “You want me escorts to fuck you?”

My bad-o-meter went off the clock and my cock bulged with lust.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me,” I said breathlessly.

“You are fascinated with my hairy body,” Raj said.

“I love it,” I replied. “I want to lick you all over.”

“Lick my hairy Indian arse?” he asked hopefully.

“Especially that,” I said.

Raj got into position on the sofa, sideways on, leaning on an arm.

“After you have licked my arse, I will fuck you,” he promised.

The man had thick black hair on his back and buttocks. I know some people find that unattractive, but to me in that situation it was merely confirmation of his masculinity and I was not just happy to rim him but felt honoured to be invited to do so.

I knelt behind Raj and reached through to enjoy his hairy loins and feel his erection. Then I kissed his lower back and lowered my face into the pit of depravity.

Here, in the flat above an Indian grocery store, at about 12:15 in the daytime, I, Mr Ordinary, was licking a man’s backside. Far from being ashamed, i was quite proud of myself.

I placed my face against Raj’s bottom and poked my tongue into it. I loved the smell of it: it was the rudest, naughtiest, horniest, most beautiful thing in the world.

“You also get a kick out of me being Indian, do you?” he asked. The man whose arse I was licking was speaking to me.

“I don’t know why,” I said. “It just makes it so… exotic.”

“You love licking my Indian arse,” he continued. “That is good. Some people look down on us. Some would want to make you do that as a punishment, but I can tell you see it as anything but.”

“Raj,” I said, “I woke up this morning wanting to lick your arse. I planned the whole thing.”

“I thought as much,” he said. “You hung around my shop like a tart who bagcilar escort wanted to be fucked.”

“For you I am a tart,” I said. “And I so want your hairy, dark, Indian penis in my anus.”

“And afterwards,” he said, enjoying the conversation as much as he knew I was, “Do you want my Indian spunk?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “I want your bad Indian body to squirt some semen for me.”

“In your mouth?”

“Another day in my mouth,” I stammered, trembling with excitement. “Today I want you to come in my crack. When you’ve finished fucking me I want you to wank into my bottom.”

“You’re a very naughty white boy,” Raj said. “You will have your wish.”

With that he stood up and marched into the kitchen, coming back with a tube of lubricant. He got me to kneel on the sofa with my arse exposed and he lubed me up and then put some on his cock head.

“Tell me what you’re going to do,” I implored him.

“I am going to ram my dark Indian cock into your white arsehole,” he said, rubbing the head around my cleft and settling it into my entrance. He pushed forwards and I yelped with pain.

“It’s all right,” Raj said gently. “Try to relax. Welcome my cock into your arse.”

Seconds later my back passage was filled with this man’s penis and I loved it. I particularly loved the shitting feeling as he pulled back, and then the hot pressure as he moved back in.

Raj fucked me for maybe five minutes and it was five minutes of ecstasy. From time to time I would reach behind me to feel his hairy body and remind myself that this was real, not just a very horny dream.

Then slowly he pulled his cock out of me and, wiping it with a tissue, masturbated. He quickly groaned with fulfilment and his semen gushed into my valley. Some of it trickled down and ran around my balls. I wanted to retain the feeling forever – it’s such a shame you can’t do that.

Raj wiped me up and, sensing my thoughts, said, “Next time we can do it in the bedroom and you can watch us in the mirror.”

“Or we could film it,” I offered.

“Yes, we could do that,” he said. “As long as there is always a next time.”

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