Thursday, September 16, 2010

A walk down the Gay Street, NYC

Alright so this article is not entirely dedicated to the gay cruising places in New York City. With that disclaimer I’d tell you how screwed a trip can get if that’s not planned the proper way including the choosing of not-so-creepy snobs to stay with.

I started off the first day with high hopes of covering the maximum possible places listed in the NY city pass. The city pass is indeed a very lucrative way of moving around the city, covering the entire Manhattan on a hop in hop off bus at $125. You could also take a day’s pass on the subway and get a map handy. The streets and avenues are pretty straight forward, you can never get lost. And if you are, there’s the yellow NYC taxi that stops when you wave your hand at it (similar to India! That doesn’t quite happen at the place I stay in southern Arizona. Here, you have to call and book a cab every time)

I reached the NY Penn Station by taking the NJ Transit from New Brunswick station, near which my friend stayed. The Times Square was about few blocks away from the Penn Station (near Madison Square garden). Manhattan is divided into two sections – the Downtown and the uptown. Times Square is somewhere in between this. The city of New York is divided into many small villages. You can find the China town (As always), Little Italy, and of course our dear-ol India in different parts. After collecting my NY City pass from Planet Hollywood, I decided to visit the Central Park, American Museum of Natural History (to see the Dum Dum from Easter island J), And then I thought I’d rather take an almost aerial panoramic view of the city from the top of Rockefeller center followed by the Empire State Building. The day ended quite eventfully with me covering the places I desired, but still I couldn’t visit Madame Tussauds. Lack of time you see!

The fun started the next day when I had to shift place from New Jersey (i.e New Brunswick) to Long Island near Stony Brook. The journey from NY Penn Station to Stony Brook would take two and half hours one way, which meant wastage of about five hours for just placing my luggage there. So, I decided to carry it with me while seeing places. I wished to visit the Museum of Sex, but never could manage time (Use Wiki to know moreJ, save me the effort of CTRL-V CTRL C). On the way to the financial district, from where you have to board the ferry to the statue of Liberty, I went past the Wall Street, NY stock exchange, the Federal Hall and the Bull. Visiting the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island became a pain in the arse! Why? Well, they told me that they wouldn’t allow taking the bag with me even if there was no bomb in it. Rules are rules and there are no exceptions. Luckily, Google helped me find a luggage storage and this further cost a lot for the to-fro journey. I’d regard it as unnecessary wastage of time, money and energy. Anyhow, I came back only to find that the tour to Ellis was closed – it was time! And the ferry to Liberty Island was still open. The lady at the luggage store had told me to take my bag back by 5, otherwise she’d close and then I’d have to collect it the next morning. I hurried through the visit, had a date with the lady of the harbor, clicked quite a lot of pictures with the green rusted copper lady and finally missed collecting the bag.

The next day, I was so lazy to get up. The lady, Maria, at the luggage store, had asked me to collect the bag by 8:30 am and she’d not charge for the 2nd day. There was no way I could reach the place by that time, because, if I had to do that, I’d need to get up at 5 am, get ready and take the 5:30 am train to NY Penn station and then run from there in order to get to the store that was located 10 streets and 4 avenues North east of Madison Square Garden. I called Maria and she said that she’d be waiting till about 2. Else she’d close and then I could collect it the next Monday. I had a hard time convincing her about the distance between Stony Brook and NYC, and then telling her that I’d take a flight back to India the same day. We finally reached after the train stopped quite a while before entering Penn station. Google showed that by walking it would take about 20 minutes to reach the luggage store from Penn Station. I beat that, ran wherever I could without making people suspicious (Quite obvious if you are running all through, people and the NYPD can get hold of you!!) and reached within 10 minutes! A pat on my back!! Maria apologized for being so persistent about closing down because even she had to board a flight to Colombia. Told you earlier, didn’t I? Planning is a "necessary" part of travelling.

The last time I had written about the Paris visit and gays kissing and holding hands together. I couldn’t spot such things happening in NYC, maybe that’s because I escaped going to places. However, the next day my snobbish, finicky Bengali friend from Kolkata, (for whom the world revolved around Kolkata, and he’d compare the Hudson River with Ganges, who’d still regard a $ as “taka”, who’d get all crazy about not eating in restaurants because they could make the chicken in the same frying pan that they had used for beef and what not! Give me a break, god!) did one good thing. He took me to a street that was kind of tagged as a gay one. Thanks to Google, yet again! We entered the Gay Street (Yes! There is a street in NYC with that name). The name has nothing to do with gays. The street is located in the Greenwich Village, named after Sydney Howard Gay. It extends from Christopher Street to one block south to Waverly Place, between and roughly parallel to Sixth and Seventh Avenues. Christopher Street is the point of interest. There are lots of gay fetish shops on this street. I entered one of the shops just to take a look around. The shopkeeper was an Indian, and he thought I was taking pictures (which I was LOL) and strictly prohibited me to do that. There was a huge collection of gay porn cds and dvds in the shop. Ask whatever you need and you get that there – dildos, bdsm and sadomachism stuff, bondage equipment, cock rings, fucking machines, flesh jacks, vibrators etc. When my learned friend and I were walking down the street, I found many gays hitherto. The gay pubs were the places of visit along the way. They had rainbow flags everywhere. I could notice quite a few feminine gays, holding hands of their partners and dressed in pink. Then, there were those muscular straight acting African American gays, and we kind of, felt unsafe and uncomfortable with them around. We took a walk down to the east river and back. We saw many gays near the river; you’d get the feel just by looking at them. We dropped the plans of visiting a gay pub, as I didn’t like that earlier when I visited the one in Tucson, Arizona named IBT’s. I had seen a muscular guy standing in jocks and people coming to him, putting few dollars in his jock and smelling and feeling his dick from the outside. The dance and the music were good, but I kind of got turned off, due to the ambiance.

Anyway, back to NY – we walked the rest of the distance from Christopher street to Times Square; it should have been easily about 3- 4 miles of walk.

Amidst various problems, the NY trip was done and dusted, finally!!

Sunday, January 31, 2010

An Evening in Paris!

Last September, when I discovered that I would be going to France for some official work, I thanked my stars and immediately planned to visit Paris, even if it was for a day! Later on, when I got the actual fixture, I figured out that I could afford two days for Paris and I had to meticulously plan the maximum number of places that could be covered in those days. Ever since I had read and seen “Da Vinci Code” it was a dream to go to Louvre and check out the diva passiona – Mona Lisa. I couldn’t just imagine that would come true so soon.

Paris is about 750 km away from Montpellier, the small town near the Mediterranean Sea, i.e. the place for my official visit. I took a TGV from Montpellier Saint Roch railway station and it took about three and half hours to reach Paris Gare de Lyon station. It was early morning, about 9:00 AM. In India, I would expect that distance to be covered in about 12 – 14 hours. The train was moving at such a high speed that initially I felt as if my ears were ringing. The journey gave views of picturesque landscapes, swirling small rivulets and picture perfect European country side – the ones I had seen in movies or National Geographic till date. The farmhouse had a setting with green pastures in front of them where healthy cows were grazing nonchalantly.

Somebody had told me, that France was the first country in Europe to embrace the gays and accept their sexuality. I had not researched on that, but what I saw on the train and immediately after reaching Paris was not a scene I see every day, even when I am in USA, the place that is seen as the most liberal in terms of alternate sexuality! (I tell you – that’s a myth about USA, I have felt that quite well and I wish I could think that out loud!). Inside the train, there were two guys, cozily having animated conversations in French that I couldn’t figure out. They seemed like good friends, and as I would expect, one of them had his laptop on and they were watching something. I repeatedly saw them holding each other’s hands. Even that would not say anything, and might look quite casual. I couldn’t, but help staring askance at them every now and then, just to figure out if they were couples. In between, both had left their stuff, laptop open and went outside of the sitting area. I could expect that they’d gone out for smoking, but then something gave me an uncanny suggestion that there was something. That was because; in Europe you are not even supposed to smoke in the toilets. To answer all my speculations, when I got down at the station, the two guys sealed their lips in a kiss for about a minute, hugged each other warmly and, I would believe they had to, depart in opposite directions.

Welcome to Paris!”, I said to myself and was quite impressed at the way I was given a hint that people don’t even bother about your sexuality here!

I went to the welcome center.

Bonjour Monsieur! Comment puis-je vous aider?” A sweet lady asked.

Bonjour Mademoiselle! I speak just English; can you please help me plan my Paris visit?” I asked for guidance.

The lady helped me with a plan to cover the places on my list in a span of two days. She gave me a map and a welcome booklet – Paris Visite. Interestingly, when I browsed through that, a section came up on gays! The heading of that subsection was: A city with open and tolerant attitude. It had the following information (as-is cited from Paris Info):

Paris is a city with an open and tolerant attitude, where you can be your own person and there’s something for everyone. The capital boasts a myriad of gay or “gay-friendly” addresses, largely to be found in the first “arrondissements” on the Right Bank, around Châtelet and Hôtel de Ville, and at the heart of the Marais district (4th “arrondissement”). You’ll find dozens of bars and restaurants here flying the “rainbow flag” and a great choice of stylish boutiques for clothes or home decor, travel agents, etc...

Check out what’s on offer on the Paris gay scene: guides, associations, services, clubbing, events... in all the colours of the rainbow.


A plan to find out more on gay life in Paris was not in my scheme of things, and so I didn’t try to figure out a way how I could fit that in.

After spending about four hours at Museé du Louvre, seeing the diva passiona Monalisa, ( I pinched twice to figure out if I was standing in front of her in reality!), other famous paintings like “Madonna of the rocks”, the “Raft of Medusa”, and sculptures and various other relics, I decided to visit the Eiffel Tower (Tour Eiffel in French).

Regarded as a very romantic spot, (friends suggested : “Take along your sweetheart to Eiffel” – which, unfortunately, I didn’t have at that point of time) Eiffel tower reminded me of a scene from the movie Mera Pehla Pehla Pyar where Ruslaan proposes his girl friend at dusk in front of the tower. How I craved, I had someone with me! I was dampened by the mere site of the tower, and the loneliness gripped me even more when I found guys holding hands and kissing each other near the green patches adjacent to the tower. Luckily, I made friends with three more Indian guys, and the tour of Eiffel to the top, the scintillating view of Paris by the night and the chilly wind was not lonely anymore. There were Indian hawkers, selling Eiffel tower miniatures. They were cheap and I could also bargain, so, I bought two of them. The Eiffel tower is made to glow every hour with lots of blinking lights. It presents a grand spectacle. There is also a light and sound show that happens around 8:00 pm.

I decided to walk from Eiffel to Arc de Triomphe – the victory arc build by Emperor Nepolean in 1806. I had to cross the Siene river and walk by its sides and follow a trail to reach the place. This was as per instructions from one Punjabi hawker. He was quite helpful in making me learn a few phrases in French like “Où est-Champs Elysées?” (meaning – where is Champs Elysées?). He told me that the Arc was near that place, so if I went there I could see it. He suggested me to take a metro, but I preferred walking as I wanted to see the Eiffel Tower across Seine.

As I had a brief assumption about the gay scenario in Paris by that time, I didn’t find it awkward to see guys making out along the pavement besides Seine, while I was walking on it. I saw few guys sitting together and hugging each other, some even shedding tears and sharing their grief. Isn’t that what every gay wants? To have a companion to share your life, to have acceptance in the society like a straight couple, to see that homosex

uality is no more a taboo? For a moment, I fell in love with the city, and yet again remembered that I didn’t have that special somebody in my life!


Arc de Triomphe looked gorgeous with the lights. I had seen it atop Eiffel and then I was very close to it. It had nude French youth against bearded German warriors. I clicked couple of pictures and then headed towards my French lady’s house. Oh yes! I forgot to tell you, I had arranged to stay in a French lady’s house through my network of friends. Her

name is Alice and she stayed near St. Ambroise metro station and she gave me an algorithm to follow in order to decipher her house! I had to dial two codes on the num-pad in order to unbolt the doors of her house. Alice looked like Shakira! Seriously, she was a very beautiful young lady and we discussed our cultures and she could associate with my thoughts quite seamlessly.

The next morning I followed my plan and trailed along quite well. I managed to find an Indian guy and convinced him to come along with me so that we could click each other’s pictures instead of asking strangers to do so, and explaining everyone how to handle the camera! We visited Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris, Pantheon and Nepoleaon’s Tomb at Les Invalides. Then we followed a broad roadway that culminated into Champs Elysées (pronounced shawmps- elyzees). Once again, I could see the Victory arc at that place. Champs Elysées is a very haute avenue in Paris with its collection of shops, cinema halls, restaurants and posh hotels. It is one of the most costly strips on earth with sky-soaring rents as high as € 1.1 Million.


Later, we planned to go to Moulin Rouge, as I had heard about that cabaret a lot and just wanted to see that once.

It is near a metro station named Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy. There was a long queue of folks, trying to get into the first show of the day, starting at 6:00 pm that cost €13. I had to board a train for Montpellier at about 7:30 pm and so didn’t have the chance to peek in. Not that I was very much interested to see the partially nude girls performing inside. The atmosphere outside looked quite electrifying; I could scent a bit of the environment that could be inside.
I hurried back to Paris Gare de Lyon station to board the TGV to Montpellier. I decided to collect few Eiffel key rings from a near-by memento shop. The shop had a section for magazines and to my pleasant surprise there was a complete rack dedicated to Gay magazines! I looked at my surroundings discreetly and picked up one magazine to browse. I didn’t find curious eyes looking at me. I was at peace, and I flipped through the pages and became wide-mouthed and eyed seeing the bare-bone hot and sexy guys inside. (I was seeing a gay magazine for the first time!).

I might want to go back to Paris someday, and spend some time visiting the different places I missed out. Perhaps the city is the place to be, especially when it has accepted the concept of gays, something that is still unacceptable, and gays considered obnoxious in other parts of the world.
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Written for Pink Pages

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

A midsummer night’s ecstasy!

CBSE Class X board exams had been excruciatingly painful, causing headache! I was happy that they were finally over, giving me enough shares of space and freedom to break free from the shackles and breathe peacefully. The intentions were pretty clear when I talked with my parents, they were indeed planning a trip of New Delhi, Hardwar & Lakshman Jhoola.

It was mid April and the heat was on. We reached New Delhi after a long train journey from Kolkata and chose to stay in a hotel near R. K. Puram. The hotel boy, Bahadur, helped us with our luggage to our room, which was on the first floor. I liked his initial alacrity. He was interesting by looks; he’d a typical mongoloid face, as he was a Nepali and he was taller than me. He’d a pair of brushy eyebrows, almost insignificant traces of a moustache, slightly reddened cheeks and small eyes. He sustained a placid smile on his countenance. That beefed up, within me, a subtle likeness for him, though that didn’t ground me as he wasn’t a mirror-cracking material to fall for.

Nepalese. I found them very cute, their stretched eyes, and blunt nose made them conspicuous in the crowd, i.e. if you aren’t at their home place, the later would make you the odd man! My likeness for them grew up as I’d stayed in a place named Mirik, near Darjeeling, when I was a kid, for three years. That was when I was in class IV. I’d to learn their language, painstakingly, as I’d that as the second language. I’d scored well and our teacher scorned them, those who couldn’t.

“Mohan, being a Bengali, scores so well, you shameless people! Why can’t you manage decent scores?” I felt a devilish joy, as I’d see my classmates’ faces turning florid with indignation.

I’d play certain games with my classmate, Neeraj Tamang, who was very close to me. We’d go to seclusion and try out things that we’d seen sometime back. We’d managed a post card which had different poses in which a man could kiss a woman. And, in that, was a particular pose which interested my friend and me. It was ‘cringing kiss’. I didn’t know the literal meaning of ‘cringing’ at that time, and I didn’t even try to find out! In that, a man was kissing the foot of a lady, and his face had cringed while he was at it. We used to bet. Neeraj would beat me in a play of fists, and I’d have to kiss his foot every time he’d beat me. I used to get beaten on purpose. That was because I found kissing his foot exciting. Almost everyday I’d kiss his foot around fifty times, very passionately at times! He used to enjoy that too. Ransacking memory for my activities in bygone days makes me highly nostalgic.

{
Now, I feel that the Nepalese would have felt good as well when the starting lines of the song “Musu Musu Hasi deo malai lai…” from Pyar Mein Kabhi Kabhi and also the song “Yeh hawaein gungunaein…(Kasto maza hai railoi maa, ramay lo ukali orali)” in the movie Parineeta contained their dialects.
}


We’d immediate plans for the day. We went out as we’d planned to visit the Bahá'í Mashriqu'l-Adhkar or Lotus temple as it is popularly known as. We didn’t have more items on our itinerary for the day, like visiting other places of historical significance, as the scorching sun was intolerable. We’d to go to south Delhi. The temple is located in Kalkaji and is a wonderful edifice of architectural marvel. It’s based on a relatively new religious faith, that of the Bahá'í’s. It’s shaped like a half blossoming lotus flower and is made of marble primarily along with dolomite and sand. The significance of the lotus flower to the Indians is profound. It’s a symbol of purity and peace, a representation of the Manifestation of God. The temple was completed in 1986 and has won plethora of architectural awards. It’s not actually a temple, or at least didn’t look like one to me, rather a place for meditation.

We’d to walk a considerable distance before we could reach its premises, after crossing the beautiful gardens laterally on our way. There are few water bodies surrounding the temple, just to imitate the milieu of a grand lotus. We went inside to find a central hall that has as many as nine doors as entrances. The hall can house thousands of devotees, who can comfortably sit and meditate. We were not supposed to utter a single word there. The place exuded a divine feeling of non evanescent peace and tranquility. When you, all of a sudden, enter an area devoid of sounds, you feel as if some burden has been taken away from your head. You feel lighter when your brain is waived off its responsibility of analyzing the sounds. The silence was so deafening! And, that was exactly how it was happening, thoughts are obvious, but for sometime I stopped thinking as well.

When we came back, it was afternoon. We’d finished our lunch on our way. I’d to tell them about drinking water and I was looking out for Bahadur, as the hotel didn’t have a calling bell system for attendants. I went up, as instructed by someone on the way, I was walking past, I guess, the room where Bahadur and a few other hotel boys lived. I noticed him and my eyes squared on him immediately. He was skimpily clad and was ironing a shirt. A scene, aphrodisiac to the core, on the offering for me, and something I’d like to relish completely! Since he was facing the doorway, he eyes met mine for a moment, my heart skipped a beat, he contorted uncomfortably, and I moved out of his sight quickly. On my way to our room, I started thinking about him; I wished that frame had frozen forever. He had a sexy figure, broad shoulders, and lush armpits, plain and smooth body, and feet that I’d always crave to lick. I expected him to be around twenty something. I found him very attractive and spent some time thinking about him for the next few moments. I didn’t have thoughts about getting physically intimate with him or sorts, though I’d an experience with my cousin when I was in Class VIII. But then I’d almost forgotten that incident, even though it came back to me reiteratively! I’d just accepted it as one bad day when I’d gone freaky! (
Click here to read that)

I was confused about my sexual likings at that time, and I was very less concerned about anything related to orientation, there was no internet, and also no-one to even talk about same sex likeness or anything. Things seemed weird and befuddling. I didn’t even know that this kind of feeling or thinking existed! I just loathed myself as to why I’d be liking a boy’s face or body or feet, when I was supposed to like a girl, conventionally. I considered myself queer when I’d find out myself deriving some pleasure watching guys, in my school, playing and sweating out rather than girls, and hence, I tried hard to reconcile my thoughts with the likings and discussions of my classmates, i.e. as per the present day ‘lingo’ I tried acting ‘straight’! But then, Bahadur had such a good body, one of my innermost desires had it that I’d be sleeping with this guy, if I’d ever get a chance! Like, I did once with my cousin. Though I didn’t do anything explicitly with him!

We experienced a peculiar weather at New Delhi. It was very hot in the day, and nights were cooler only if you managed to sleep under the sky. It was very hot inside our room! I fought hard to get a wink of sleep, but failed miserably. My parents weren’t sleeping either.

“Momma, can I go up to the terrace for a while? I’d come back after sometime. I guess it’s cooler up there.”

Momma allowed me, but, only for a while. They were, anyway, busy in discussing the tour ahead, the itinerary decision! My momma had previous ideas as she’d been reading some travel magazines lately, which had comprehensively covered a tour to Hardwar and Lakshman Jhoola.

As I moved I could hardly find anyone on my way up to the terrace. It was around 12:00 am and that part of the city seemed to be in deep slumber with only a few dogs barking away relentlessly. The city lights were amazing, and the clear inky sky provided an enthralling astral view. I could see a mosquito net on a wooden cot at one nook of the terrace away from the entrance to it. Discreetly and slowly, I moved forward to find out as to who it was. To my utter surprise I recognized that boy sleeping over there, it was Bahadur! He was lying; his body was covered with a thin bed sheet, inside the mosquito net. I took a chance and went ahead, I lauded myself for that!

“Hey, Bahadur, can I sleep with you for sometime? It’s too hot inside my room.”

He didn’t have a reason to disagree. After all what harm could a small boy cause to him at night. What he didn’t expect was I being a bit perverted, and I having bland ulterior motives! He’d no chance of reading my mind and I enjoyed that. I had the desire of tasting his feet by licking his toe fingers. That was quite obvious; feet fetish within me was prominent, as always. I hadn’t thought of any other amorous advance towards him.

“I got to ask momma before I come, wait for me.”

I hurried back the stairs and stormed into our room. “Momma, Bahadur’s up there on the terrace, I’m having a chat with him, and I’d be coming back in some time.” I apprised.

“Why would you need to talk with him at this hour, you are not going!” Momma was frigid. I didn’t know as to how I could convince her. I couldn’t have ignored informing her, as, I was supposed to make her au fait with every single move I’d decide to make, and take a formal permission for the same. After all I was a Momma’s boy at that time!

“Momma, pur-leez!! He won’t eat me! He’s not a kidnapper and you know that!” I blurted out satirically.

“You are not going! I don’t want your reasons!” Momma scowled.

I knew that mellowing down my tone should be a good effort to melt ice. Prospect of playing emotions was always a good motivation for mom, to allow me to be harmlessly naughty, eclipsing her motherly genuine compunctions.

“Momma pleaaaaaaaaaaase! Just for some time! Please Please …. Please!” I badgered. And then, I went up to her, placed my arms around her and planted a kiss on her cheeks.

“Boy, you’re nagging like anything! I’m worried. Okaaay! You don’t have to feign it! You will come back in fifteen minutes Mohan. If you don’t I’ll go there, pull your ears and get you back here, mind my words!!” Momma conceded too soon, she knew I’d be inexorably insistent!

“Gosh!! That was a huge relief; at least she won’t be sneaking on me for those fifteen minutes!” I sighed. I’d the time of my lifetime. Those fifteen minutes, the onus was on me to make them interesting, joyous and what not.

“Whims of a confounded brat at midnight! Why do you ….” Momma’s voice faded as I hurried back to Bahadur.

“Bahadur, I’m back!” I was excited.

“Get in here.” Bahadur sounded husky. Probably that was the effect of sleep, and the vexation caused by my appearance at the scene.

I sensed the ennui bubbling up from within me. I placed my head on Bahadur’s arm, near his armpit. I felt a chill down my spine as I did that. The sweet scent of male sweat whipped my nostrils gently. The beads of perspiration on his body were imbued with the hard work that he’d done that day, and hence those were something that deemed a reverence. He was stark naked inside the sheet! But, I anticipated, that, at least he’d be wearing a brief. I ran my hand all over his body as I hugged him, keeping my face on his chest. The virile fragrance was divine and exotic. I just craved that I could stay on his body in that fashion for an eternity. Bahadur was exceptionally quiet. He didn’t object to my movements. He didn’t think that was necessary. I began to feel the muscular structure entirely at my disposition. I caressed him harder, and tried exploring him to his entirety. I inserted a finger in his armpits and then smelt that. It was too good. I was getting sexually aroused completely. And the thrill was dazzling. I thought about the situation – a fifteen year old boy, lying with a twenty plus naked guy, in his arms, beneath the stars. An ambience, which one would always dream of! The mosquito net made it quite obscure for anybody to grasp from the steps as to what was happening on that cot. That, as a matter of fact, brought in a sense of security; still I could hear my heart pounding fast. Bahadur was very calm; I was, kind of, surprised at his cold response, he was not moving at all. It could be anything. Either my activities or I didn’t turn him on much, considering he was disoriented like me, or, might be, he was straight, and was just keeping quiet, as he couldn’t say anything as I was almost a kid and that too a guest in that hotel!

I let my hands go haywire. Slowly and steadily I moved down to his navel and then continued till I could reach the tip of his member. I placed my palm on it to get the entire thing in my hand. And it was hard and long. I started feeling every inch of it with my palm. I held it tight and then inserted my hand inside his brief. The following steps were easy; I took it out of its bonding and then moved the bed-sheet above us a bit in order to see how it looked. It was a huge one! I found it fantastically scintillating! I didn’t have it, at that time, to think about its length and circumference. I was interested in feeling the warmth in my fingers and also the throbbing caused due to the blood gushing in its veins. I also felt the sticky wetness on its tip. I utilized the wetness and spread it all over his member. I tried pulling out his foreskin completely, and that yielded comfortably. More wetness and I liked that! I started playing with his property for a while, and when I was completely hard I pulled mine out and placed it in his hand. He didn’t move it. He was perfectly still; he was not helping me, much to my chagrin! I moved his palm up and down to help myself for sometime, and then removed his hand.

I also wanted to taste his foot, which was the primary motivation for sleeping with him. But that had got out of mind completely, and as I remembered that, I found out that it’d be a difficult proposition to try tasting his toe fingers as I’d move into a precarious situation. I let that thought go, although I was repentant. I refocused on his genitals. He didn’t mind that! I started shaking that, and with the sounds one more clock was ticking in my head, I suddenly remembered those ‘fifteen minutes’ momma had agreed on. The sounds of her screams became distinct in my head and I stopped providing him any further pleasure. I couldn’t imagine the imbroglio I’d be in if momma caught me in such an intimate position, basking in Bahadur’s arms.

Suddenly, I could hear footsteps and I felt as if my end was nearing. Nemesis, wanting a final rendezvous to happen right there! I saw a figure approach the cot, I became absolutely motionless. I kept my eyes half open to find out more, and thanked god as it was the guard. He tried waving his hand near my face, and as I was not responding, he just walked away. I took some time to reconstruct myself from the shock and gathered myself and hurried back to my room.

The following day, we were to leave the hotel. I met Bahadur and he presented me with a beautiful smile. A killer smile I’d say! I felt sorry to have escaped, the previous night, before he could reach climax, without luxuriating him to completion. But, I thought, he’d definitely made my night ecstatic and riveting, even if for a while.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Chennai Masala!!

It’d been almost a year and a half since I had it with some guy. I don’t know how I managed to stay out of the whole scene, when I could have been promiscuous to the core, on the chords of a whore, in a place like Bangalore! Might be that ‘some guy’ was in my mind. But that’s not preposterous, I mean, think of it, you are having someone in your mind and that keeps you engrossed so much that you find it a betrayal to sleep with anybody else! I vaguely remember the day when I was intimate with my classmate the last time before separating. It was 17th May, 2005. Our college was over. Everybody was heading back home in order to wait for a reporting date to their respective companies that they were placed with on campus.

“That’s it Rahul, if destiny has it we’ll be cozy again.”

“I will definitely miss you Mohan.” He’d frowned. Did he shed a tear while saying that? I never knew, but I felt his voice was heavy.

We were partners for damn two years, and that moment was a painful one, with him moving away from me. The only guy in my life that far, wouldn’t be with me and that might have been a nightmare for me succinctly. But days passed and slowly the passion for him turned into a mild desperation at times. Even to that, my perspective of viewing things remained the same as college days and I wouldn’t meet a guy! He was a very good friend, though we never discussed gay issues, he was supportive.

It was a business visit to Chennai. Everything was arranged by my company, and the guest house allotted was in one of those posh areas of the city. Teynampet to be precise. I had a fifteen-day stay there. Very less acquaintances, and hence I thought the stay would be a boring one. I met one of my colleagues, Siddharth, at the guest house. It was a pleasant surprise as there would be someone to talk to rather than struggling in troubled water with mere strangers. But, sadly he was to leave the day after. Among the house keeping guys were two people, Kancha, a short-heighted Nepali guy, and Niranjan, an Oriya multitasking man i.e. he cooked, washed clothes and at times even took care of housekeeping. They were good, not by looks, but by gestures, they were very friendly and helped whenever required. Niranjan’s culinary skills were good, very good indeed I should say, in line with the taste that suited North Indian guys like us.

I had to share the room with another guy, who was basically from Bangalore, but was transferred to Chennai for six months. He was friendly, but had nothing in him to turn me on! I had the uncanny knack of comparing everybody I met with my college partner Rahul, and so in most cases disappointments loomed on a high. Siddharth was handsome, but again not my types! It was in one of those strolls after the dinner where he was discussing about the house keeping guys.

“Beware of Kancha, along with everything he says his hand makes it a point to fall intentionally on the dick of the person he’s talking to, looking for a niche!”

“What?” I was startled! “Is he a gay?”

“Who the hell knows, I had to cover my point whenever I used to talk with him,” Siddharth said.

That initiated some naughty thoughts in my mind. I thought of getting cute with Kancha just to find out if he was a gay. I’d meet him at night when he’d come to take away my clothes to the laundry.

My roomie, surely, had a way with words, he was kind of talkative, and too often would indulge in describing the client he was working for and the work environment. Though he’d try to make facts look interesting, my yawns always put him down! It was X Mas and my roomie told me that he’d visit his native and come back after January 1st. It was good news as well a bad one. Good because it probably gave me enough chances of trying Kancha, bad like hell as staying alone during X Mas & New year away from friends and family sucked big time.

25th December, 2006

Comfort spoils you, and especially when you have no one around. You tend to do almost nothing. The lazy demon within you surfaces and doesn’t let you leave bed for good! And mind it, if you are a procrastinator, then take it from me, you’d never have your work done. Well, does the crap am blabbering out here making any sense to you? Don’t know really, do you? Confused thoughts of ‘what to do on an X Mas eve’ leads to ‘party and die out drinking’ kind of solutions. But I don’t drink! Even if I’d have, it’d be really weird to drink all alone! I got up at around 1:00 pm, hurriedly brushed and went to the dinning place. Missing lunch was something I could ill afford at that point, as virtual mice were taking long strides inside my tummy.

After lunch Kancha came for his regular housekeeping tasks. As friendly as he was, he once again started talking. After doing his work, he came and sat near me and told about himself, his native and also asked about mine. While talking he touched my dick over my pajamas a couple of times. I didn’t disallow as I wanted to see what he’d do next. All those touches raised a revered tent inside my pajamas and he noticed that. He was too keen to hold it completely and feel it in its entirety. I ensconced, and while doing that he also came closer. Before that he bolted the door in order to avert any precarious situation caused due to sudden appearance of curious onlookers.

As Kancha neared me, I took a closer look at his structure for the first time and tried analyzing the minutiae of his overall figure. He was very thin, cheek bone protruding, mongoloid eyes, brushy eyebrows. He had a very small face. He was wearing a white kurta-pajama. His hair was unkempt and sort of reddish. He might have used mehendi. Though he had a small dark moustache, he looked like a boy who had just seized to be a teenager. An assumption of his age would have been twenty ideally.

“Kancha, you like this?” I pointed at my dick. He naively nodded. I didn’t stop myself because of my inner instincts that warned me against involving with a petty house keeping guy. But, Kancha was hungry for a dick, I could feel that. I didn’t want to think about the number of guys he was involved with so far. Given his simplicity I wouldn’t have expected everyone to have responded the way I had. Siddharth was an example. So, that ruled out Kancha’s sleeping around syndrome!

“Sir, please don’t tell this to anyone,” he pleaded. I assured him that I wouldn’t.

He came near me and knelt on the floor and started probing the thing that interested him so much. He slowly opened my pajama, and held my dick from above my inner wear. It was already full length, protruding out, with precum oozing and sponsoring a wet spot in situ. He kissed the spot, and licked it for some time, making it grow larger in radius. And then he inserted his nose into my balls, I thought the scent in my innerwear turned him on!

“Open it! It’s all yours.”

“Sir, yours is too good.”

He opened me, the steady six and a half incher slam banged onto his face. He started licking it, teasing me all through. I was growing horny. I wanted him to provide a good blowing service. But, I wouldn’t force him. I waited for him to take his own sweet time to start. My dick was up and running waiting to be serviced, anticipating a hot mouth and lot of saliva. I didn’t look at him. I started watching the TV. It was not like there was anything interesting on TV. The channels sucked big time. I was desperately searching for Hindi channels, all I could find were Tamil, Telugu and Kannada ones making no or very little sense to me! It was a futile attempt against hopeless odds!

He understood me and started executing what I was craving for at that moment. He had a small mouth, and I didn’t expect him to take me full. He just could manage the head. He gulped it hungrily covering it completely with his saliva. I kept a hand on his head in order to glide it in fuller to no or very little effect. He licked for a while and then he wanted me to be completely nude in the lower half. He massaged my thighs, my feet and my balls with his hand. I didn’t converse. Else, it was like I didn’t have much to say. I saw him licking my toe and fingers. So, that guy had a feet fetish, very well like me. He started licking me all way from toe to the balls. Oh! My god! He was a damn good service provider. I started moaning when he licked my balls and played with them with his tongue. He knew he had lot to explore in me, a treasure, placed in a wooden box, lid open in front of him, at his disposition!

And then, he was like prime time bullshit. You know why? Suddenly he remembered he had to go upstairs for some work. I mean, why in the world at the climax?

“Sir, please I have to go now, I promise I will come tonight.” I didn’t plead. I couldn’t do that, as I hadn’t even forced him into this.

I dressed up and thought of going to Marina beach. Teynampet is far away from the beach; still I had weird thoughts of walking to that. Whenever at a new place, I’d like to find out new roads by exploring the surroundings. I’d try remembering some landmarks just in case I needed to backtrack if I lost my way. I decided the same for finding out the route to the beach. I started from Eldams Road and reached a juncture where I took a left turn on to TTK Road. That road leads to another one named Mowbrays Road after walking a distance. The road was something which I’d expect in a posh area of a metro like Chennai, pretty polished with vehicles trying to follow traffic rules as required. When you take a right turn on that road and walk straight ahead passing the City Center, the dead end is the beach and the road to the beach is Radha Krishnan Salai. I decided to take a look at the mall on return. For that moment I wanted to visit Vivekanandar Illam, the former Ice House built by Mr. Frederic Tudor in 1842 to store huge chunks of ice. It had an interesting history involving Swamiji, who had come there twice, the later visit in 1897, gaining more significance after his phenomenal speech at the World's Parliament of Religions, Chicago in 1893. The ambience of the place exudes peace and tranquillity. You could sit there for hours together and you heart and soul would fill up with an unknown yet charming sensation, something divine and impalpable. I spent some quality time browsing through the various photographs of Swamiji, Shree Shree Ramakrishna & Maa Sharada Devi, kept for public display. I’d have stayed there for long as virtually time came to a standstill, but then I remembered that was a Christmas eve, and I got to be partying, but all alone in Chennai. I came out and went for a stroll on the beach. The fisher-boats, sea liners at the distance were fading as dusk set its curtains, moving towards pitch darkness, glorifying once again the requirement of a natural satellite called ‘Moon’. The Anna and MGR Samadhis nearby, which are the memorials of the most popular former Chief Ministers of the State, had a huge crowd following then. They present a spectacular sight at night, and more so when you get to see sexy guys around!

I returned to the guest house. No more walking that time, just hired an auto to ease up stress. After walking almost six – seven kilometres I felt too tired and worn out. Kancha pre-occupied my mind and I just started getting hot and horny thinking about the afternoon. There was a knock.

Kancha did a ditto as he’d done in the afternoon; he teased me again and moved out in about ten minutes. I liked the fact that at least he’d kept his promise. Another prospect pleased me; I thought I’d get services for the next ten days I’d be there.

My roomie was kind of weird. He used to return from office by eleven pm. That provided enough time for Kancha to provide blowjob services. That was a regular feature, whenever he’d come to my room, almost twice everyday, he’d suck me for five minutes or so, never allowing me to unload. The next Saturday I decided on trying out something new, and also making sure that I’d not let him go unless he’d finish me completely. It was around twelve pm, and Kancha had come to clean the room, as a part of his customary visit. He finished his work in some time and then came to me. I took charge that time. He’d never sit on my bed, so there was no use asking him.

“Sit down there on the floor at the side of my bed.” He followed suit. I sat on the bed sideways and kept my legs hanging.

“Come near me; put your head in between my thighs.” Kancha was very obedient. He liked it. Then I placed my dick in his mouth and started fucking slowly and carefully. He couldn’t take it fuller; he had vomiting freaks every time I tried inserting more.

“Sir, you leave it to me, I’ll take care,” Kancha smiled. He starting biting the head slowly, I once again moaned with pleasure. He started blowing fast so that I get to the climax sooner.

“Sir, I won’t drink it, please.” As usual, I wouldn’t force it to him. We moved to the bathroom, he used his spit to cover my dick completely. And then he didn’t let me touch, he used his mouth and then his hand to help me shoot out loads. He took my cum in his hand and used it as a face cream on him.

“Sir, I like the smell.”

“No doubt you like it!” I winked.

Once we came back, Kancha started talking his regular stuff.

“Sir, take me to your home in Bangalore. I’d cook food for you, do your dishes, wash clothes, keep your room clean and also suck you everyday. I’d be a very obedient servant.”

A very good, but infeasible, proposition. I wished I had a servant like Kancha. I left Chennai on 4th January, 2007, and I paid him a good tip as he’d definitely added some spice to the mundane stay there, after all who gives blow jobs for free that too for eleven days.

Friday, October 5, 2007

Yuck!!

We were back from the Engineering seat selection counselling. I was accompanied by my uncle, and we were, kind of, contented with my choice. After all it was tough to grab a Computer Science seat in an REC! I was upset that I’d have to leave my home state and head to an unknown destination, which would obviously mean freedom to me, at the same time, staying away from parents wouldn’t be that easy.

At the guest house lounge I found one of my acquaintances, Rohit. He was digging at a newspaper.

I had seen him quite often at tuition classes. His timings coincided with us sometimes. I had a faint crush on him, as he had the license to kill by his looks; but more than that he had those traits which would turn me on. I considered myself lucky to have joined the gym, after class XII board exams, with him, though it happened by chance. At that point of time I’d not think of emotions and friendship at all, the only concern being looks, and possible ways of getting cosy with the person who met my expectations! And Rohit was one of them. After a work-out at the gym we’d settle for a chit chat, and he’d normally sit on a chair and I’d squat at his feet pulling and placing them on my lap. He wouldn’t mind that as far as I’d massage his legs and toe fingers to some extent. That meant comfort for him. He’d look very steamy with drops of sweat trickling down his temple and chest. I’d keep staring at his body, painfully burying within me a deep carnal desire of physical intimacy with him. We’d usually talk about studies and girls, the later being the topic of interest. I never actually managed anything of subtle interest, probably because I was sceptical about a favourable response from him. Sometimes I’d help him with his shirt, and while doing so I’d try to get a sniff of his body smell. While inside the bathroom, I’d fantasize about him being completely unclad, the possible configuration of his manhood and how it’d promulgate itself while at its optimum length.

I had weird thoughts of handling a fully grown penis like the gear of a four wheeler; I just wondered how it’d feel to enact the gear operations, 1st- 4th and then the back gear.

Another thing I liked more often was exhibitionism. Couple of times I just wore a translucent towel and stood in front of my window sill, while the little kids played comfortably in the playground beside my room. They smirked at me and I enjoyed that and masturbated until I shot loads and then felt really ashamed of it. It happened once that I invited a hawker, who was selling peanuts. He was of my age. When he arrived at my door, I was intentionally wearing a very short piece of cloth, with my organ and the core 2 duo peeping outside every time I’d make a move to gather stuff. The guy noticed that, he followed me every time, and finally spoke off.

“Dada, what’s your age?”

“Sixteen. Why?”

“Are you married?”

I was perturbed “Why do you ask that? Does anyone get married at this age? That’s ridiculous!”

“The thing you are showing me actually is not meant for me. When you get married please show that to your wife!” He retorted back. He kept on uttering words of wisdom at a stretch. I got completely pissed off. I was feeling like implanting a full fledged kick on his frail arse. Then I managed to get rid of him and felt bad for him! “You missed an important customer baby,” I thought as I’d seen his emaciated sales record over the period of time he’d visit our area.

Sometimes, I’d cycle to isolated places, mostly small forests within our township, or areas which were uninhibited completely, baring the guys that used to chip in for some firewood. I’d stand completely bare, having done away with all the social obligations, inhaling the fresh air and feeling like Adam. I’d consciously wait for somebody to appear out of the woods and then I’d love to see the uncomfortable expression on his face, seeing an unbound fully grown boy in front of him unprecedented. That hardly happened in spite of my significant anticipations.

“Hi! What brings you here?” Rohit asked.

“Hey! Rohit, nice to see you, we came for the JEE counselling.”

“JEE huh!? Is that done?”

“Yeah, won a good bet if not the best.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before we discovered that we were in adjacent rooms in the guest house.

We met at lunch, and decided to hang around for some time. I went to his room; he had come with one of his cousin brothers, who was out for some work then.

He reclined on the bed with his back against the wall and I made his feet my pillow. We started a discussion on our future prospects and the outstanding results of our batch, something we all were proud of as we had broken so many records in terms of highest marks in the board exams and also achievement of targeted good ranks at the state JEE as well as IIT-JEE 2001. While we were at it, I had positioned myself in such a way that I could inhale the scent of one of his foot at ease. Few moments of those mundane talks always make the situation conducive enough for an afternoon nap. How could I miss out sleeping with the person I’d thought of so often? I knew he was straight, still wanted to discover the gayish trait of him. That was an opportunity, and certainly I’d not let that go.

“Ever watched a blue film?” I asked awkwardly.

“Couple of times,” he replied and then passed back “You seem to be a goody goody boy; wonder what made you ask that?”

The term ‘internet’ was still an illusion to us. How could one use the computer to communicate with others?! Leaving apart seeing porn on the net, we were not at all accustomed with the basic usage. The only reason we’d require a pc was to play games, and that too ‘Prince of Persia’ or ‘Packman’. So we had to program ourselves a bit away from the normal schedule of class XII in order to access porn. Sometimes we’d plan up a plausible plot for our mom. A classmate who used to live alone would arrange for a VCR along with some porn video cassettes. We didn’t use a computer for that! A call at 4:00 pm from one of my friends inviting for a ‘Birthday party’ and then convincing mom about it! Oh! My gosh! How sneaky mom used to get those days with every move of mine, so much that I’d have had to take permission to go even to a birthday party! And then the interesting part of the make-up story, we used to decide on the menu of the party and also the gift we had given to our friend; just in case she’d ask (You never know!). Once we were free we’d peacefully spend the time seeing some ‘straight’ porn. I told Rohit about those special occasions, and we chuckled at that.

“Mohan, what parts of those films do you find interesting?”

“Mostly sucking; I like it when she deep throats and gags; but yuck! when she drinks the sperm. You?”

“I enjoy the fuck!” He winked. We had a discussion on the various postures at which the actors executed coitus and unanimously concluded that the ‘doggy’ style was the best among the lot. I yawned at which he said that he was also feeling sleepy.

“Why don’t you come to my room?” I offered.

“Your uncle will be there,” he conceded.

“So what? You can sleep with me.” To that he yielded nonchalantly.

As we entered my room, we found my uncle in deep slumber. I, kind of, felt at ease with that.

We occupied the bed cautiously so that we didn’t disturb my uncle in the process. I put my head on his chest and hugged him tightly. Neither did he mind that, nor did he expect me to get naughty with him. I put my nose in his armpit above his t-shirt and got a faint smell of a popular soap. I waited in that position so that he’d fall asleep and then I could explore his sexy feet with my tongue. Those moments felt like years, and I found it very difficult to control myself, especially when I hadn’t got such instances of intimate contacts with boys quite often. Although I visited the swimming pool occasionally, still I never took chances with anyone, as I was very shy to do so. Even, that was my first time; I was so close to Rohit that I could even feel his breathe. The warmth of his expiration was melting me from within unleashing a mild degree of eroticism within me. I put my hand inside his t-shirt & moved it all over his chest and tummy. Since the AC was on, he hadn’t sweated, so the situation couldn’t get steamy at all. I reached his armpit and felt the small grown bush out there; I wanted to wear his scent on my fingers.

Slowly and carefully I turned head to foot and kissed his leg. I made a debut in tasting his foot. I licked his toe fingers and then explored the nails and the adjoining area with my tongue. I sucked his toe thumb for a long time, when I was satisfied I moved to the other foot. I also made my tongue cruise along the entire foot so that it was completely covered with my saliva. I got rock hard because of all those activities. I changed stance once again, I had his dick in my mind. I placed my head near his groin and my hand on his dick, over his shorts. It was soft and then the onus laid on me to help it realize its elongation potential. I started pumping and messaging it and could feel the blood fill in full throttle to blow it like a balloon. I slid my hand inside his shorts and caught hold of his organ over and above his frenchie. It was rock hard, ready to break all shackles and come out like a dangling pointer. I felt the familiar wetness at the tip of his dick. I’d not have stopped anymore out of a sense of danger or insecurity as to what’d happen if either of Rohit or uncle woke up; I had grown desperate to see his tool. As if I was confident that nothing untoward or unassuming would happen from then onwards, I went inside his frenchie and pulled out his dick in its entirety outside his shorts.

It was long and thick with a pink mushroom head, might have been around seven inches. I relished watching it for sometime, and then at the back of my mind those sucking scenes started rolling on inviting me to have a real time operation. There was a striking contrast of the pink spearhead against the green background of his shorts. I firmly believed that he was completely asleep, and most probably was dreaming about something hot! But another part of me said that even he might be feigning big time. The head, unveiling itself from the foreskin, was glistening with precum, something which would always make me say ‘yuck’! But then, it was a moment of action; I decided against repenting later.

“There’s always a first time,” I said to myself.

“Never do that again if you don’t like it,” the other half of me warned.

With that, I kissed the top of his dick, tasting his precum while doing that; the salty taste didn’t seem like ‘yuck’.

“Not bad, go ahead,” I reassured myself.

I took the head in my mouth and started sucking full force, and then I tried swallowing the entire piece of his meat, which was burning with a desire to shoot a mammoth payload. It was quite a mouthful. I rolled my tongue over the contours of the pink bulb. A wholesome first experience I’d say! I licked his testicles and that way I discovered why those girls in the porn movies liked doing that so eagerly. A faint musky smell came out from his pubic hair. I dug my nose into the bush to inhale that comprehensively. I could feel the throbbing in the veins of his dick. Suddenly Rohit turned my way resting himself on his side, making it conducive to sandwich my head in between his thighs. I did that, and while I was blowing him for a minute or two, trying to gag myself with his longhorn, like the way the girls did, he suddenly woke up, with his eyes half shut; he tried to comprehend what was happening with him. I remained an azoic statue as he pulled out his dick from me, put it inside his frenchie and turn the other way signifying an end to my chances.

I was already embarrassed, so I let my desires out by moving to the bathroom and unloading myself without trying Rohit anymore. I started feeling the ‘yuck’ and somehow controlled vomiting. I washed my mouth with liquid soap, something which I could never have thought of doing even in the craziest of my nightmares, and then with the toothpaste. A sense of panic crept within me; I started rebuking myself for being a suck slut.

“Doesn’t matter if this is the first time, why even try it in the first place?” I was really angry with myself.

I promised never to try that ‘yuck’ anymore. I just hoped that he’d not leak out to my classmates if he’d have deciphered what I was doing to him. I kept my fingers crossed on that. We met twice after that the same day, but he never asked or discussed anything in those lines with me giving me enough reasons to smile and heave a sigh of relief!

Sunday, June 24, 2007

On board Azad Hind Express

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