In Praise of Indian Cock

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You are a middle aged Asian man (Indian sub continent). Down to earth, unglamorous and overweight but attractive in your own way and possessing a natural masculinity. I am a white British man fascinated by what to you is perfectly ordinary but to me is exotic and exciting: your brown body.

You have a masterful tendency. I have a submissive streak that makes me want to worship your body in ways that you may never have experienced before. We’re intelligent, respectful people and the acts we engage in will be mutually satisfying and fulfilling. Oral and anal.

I had written the craigslist entry deliberately like a job ad, because I knew exactly the type of man I wanted and it wasn’t the kind who is much sought after. I wanted an ordinary guy with an ordinary life.

I put the ad up one horny morning and that’s probably not peak time, so I had no response for a few frustrating hours as I waited impatiently. Eventually I decided to forget it for the time being, and I went out that night to pass the time.

When I got back around midnight there was one reply. He was a shopkeeper, selling computers etc, and he had attached a photo of himself at work. Short sleeved khaki shirt, brown trousers, black hair swept back. He was short and stocky and unsmiling. Perfect.

We got onto personal email immediately and I sent him a picture of my cock, hard as I wanked in his honour. He responded with his own erection shot, a short, fat cock with a lot of black pubic hair.

We decide it was too late to get together then, but agreed to meet in a small park the next day at 6pm. I was quite nervous because of the public setting; I’m much better behind closed doors but Shakoor insisted.

He was polite and friendly in a quiet way, masculine and thoughtful, which was just what I wanted.

After 20 minutes we were chatting in such a relaxed way that when he invited me to his house around the corner it seemed the most natural thing in the world. It was comfortably furnished and still showed the feminine touch of Shakoor’s wife, who had died two years previously. We sat in the lounge and got down to specifics.

“So, what exactly do you mean by worshiping a body?” he asked. That was a tricky one casino oyna to answer, but since it was my words on the ad, I needed to explain as best I could.

“It means treating someone as if you adored them,” I said uncomfortably. “I’ve only just met you and you’re a nice guy but I don’t have feelings for you. But in bed I will kiss and caress and stroke and lick you like I adore it. Which I will. It, not you. No offence…”

“I understand,” he said. “Very well put, if I might say so. You have thought it through.”

I hadn’t, actually. That was off the top of my head, but it had come out well.

“Shall we go to bed?” Shakoor said softly. “Are you ready at half past six?”

“Sure,” I said. The bedroom was on the first floor and was, again, decked out as if by a woman. Shakoor had left it, I presumed, because he hadn’t really noticed. It was just their bedroom.

We lay on the bed facing each other.

“So what area of adoration shall we start with?” I asked.

“You can worship my penis,” he replied. It seemed like a logical start, so we both undressed and he lay on his back to receive my attention.

“Can I begin with you standing and I kneel in front of you?” I asked politely.

“Of course,” he said. “Do you want me to talk dirty to you?”

“Not in an aggressive way,” I said. “But I do like the way you invited me to suck your penis.”

I knelt in front of this short, stout man and admired his cock, which was rock hard. I liked his hairy balls too.

“I like your hairy balls,” I said.

“You can play with them as you suck me,” he said. I took them in one hand and his cock in the other and enjoyed his maleness, his hardness and his fullness. He was full in the face, the stomach, the knob and the balls. I sucked him gently, loving the plumpness of his head in my mouth. I licked him behind the foreskin and up the shaft.

“Shall I kneel on the bed?” he asked and I motioned my agreement. He knelt up there like a dog so his cock stood out, and I sucked him again, taking as much as I could. I massaged it with my hand too, jerking him gently to increase his pleasure but not trying to make him come.

“You have a beautiful cock,’ I said. “So manly and canlı casino strong.”

“Today,” he said, “I’m going to receive your worship there until you drive me wild with desire and I ejaculate into your mouth.”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I want that very much.”

“You want to taste my spunk,” he said. “You want to feel it sliding down your throat. You want an Indian man to have an orgasm and give you his semen in a most intimate way. It could be degrading for some men, but not for you, because you want it.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Nothing we do could be degrading for me because you are my fantasy man and I want all those intimate, rude things that might shock other people. And when you finally shoot your spunky load in my mouth it will be the most sensational moment of my life.”

“My semen is thick,” Shakoor said proudly. “It doesn’t shoot like a jet but more oozes and there is a lot of it. If we meet a few times you will have my semen all over you. One day I will come in your hand and you will feel it warm and slippery in your palm and escaping between your fingers.”

“You sound very experienced,” I said, taking a brief rest from sucking the man’s cock.

“Since I have been alone I have comforted myself with sex with men,” he explained. “It is surprising how many are willing to do it if approached in the right way. And online it is easy: you say exactly what you are looking for, and you might think no one will go for it, but there is always someone who wants that. Or someone who perhaps has never thought about it but likes the idea. I do it too. I have responded to adverts by men suggesting things I would never have considered. And I have learned things and experienced incredible sensations. With you I am dominant. That is one side of me. But at other times I enjoy being the one led astray, not abused but used, and there is something liberating about surrendering to a man and submitting to his desires. You just have to state your terms at the outset so there is no awkwardness when one of you wants what the other won’t accept. For instance, I love to have my arsehole licked but not everyone is prepared to do it. That’s fine. I will find someone who does like it. And people who like kaçak casino it don’t just like it – they love it. Maybe you are one of them.”

I grunted, reluctant to leave my post at his dick, but then I felt I should, so I licked his cock and balls and got as far down his crotch as I could. He lifted himself to allow me access and I got my tongue into his crack and licked his arse.

“I would love to lick your arse one day,” I confirmed. “I will lick your arse until you are going crazy and then… you can do whatever you want.”

“Yes, another day,” Shakoor said happily. “I will send you a text inviting you to visit me and lick my arse. Just that. No beating about the bush. You arrive, we get naked, you lick my arse, we both come and you leave again. Would you like that?”

“Love it,” I said.

“Okay,” Shakoor murmured. “Now our conversation has brought me very close to orgasm, and I want to ejaculate into your mouth. Shall I take over?”

It’s a strange fact that when you’ve been holding back for a while you can get past the point of being brought off by someone else and can only achieve it through your own expertise. I kissed Shakoor’s knob and he pushed me onto my back. Then he climbed above me and jerked himself busily. In a matter of seconds he was writhing and lurching as his dark, powerful balls spat their delicious product into my mouth. I opened wide to receive him and then closed like a sea anemone to encapsulate his penis and its contents and not waste a second, a drop, a surge of his slithering tide.

As promised, his spunk was thick and there was plenty. I was left in no doubt that a man had ejaculated in my mouth. That’s a great word, I think: an exciting word. It’s like come but in top gear. If you’re going to do something, you might as well do it well, and Shakoor’s maleness, his rustic, wholesome Asian masculinity, had given me what I craved.

“Now you,” he said. “Want to come in my hand?”

“In your armpit,” I found myself saying. Shakoor’s armpits were forests of hair and I wanted to be in them.

“Really?” he said, surprised. I nodded and he lifted his left arm. His lush underarm hair invited me and I leaned down to savour it. The fresh sweat and spices were intoxicating. I masturbated and shot my punk into his armpit.

“That was not worship,” he observed.

“No,” I replied. “That was the result of being driven wild by the man whose body I was worshiping.”

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