Anoop
Our eyes first lock in the milk bar. He is ahead of me, he glances back, momentarily, smiles briefly. Nice eyes. I want that cheap orange juice, quality not price, that I love so much. It is my McDonalds, I can drink 2 litres of the stuff, no problem. He leaves the shop before me, I think he is just asking directions. I dilly dally deciding whether, or not, to buy the day old Helgas for one dollar, just as the nice milk bar lady is giving me back my change.
I get the bread, so it all takes a bit longer.
I don't know what he has been doing, but he is walking along the other side of the street. He'd be next to me if he'd been on the same side, as I walk home. He is pretty, Indian, probably around twenty. He has a back pack and baggy jeans. He doesn't look over at me for the longest time and I am forgetting him, when he deliberately turns his head to look at me, our eyes meet again and then he looks away.
Yes, you're pretty, I've noticed you.
He doesn't look back again until he gets to the door of the art supply shop. It is as though he's decided he has to go to the art shop until the very last minute. Our eyes meet again, I look straight ahead again. I take two steps and I look back again, he is standing on the footpath looking in my direction.
Okay. I've got your attention now.
I turn back and face him, lock eyes, then turn back and keep walking. I get to the corner and I glance back as I turn. He is crossing the road. I walk to my front gate and look back. I wait, hesitate, and he turns the corner, he sees me waiting. I look in the mail box, as though I am retrieving letters, I look at the front of the envelopes, turn back and he is at the gate. Our eyes meet again.
I walk to the front door and look back at him, as I turn the key. He is right behind me, taking me in. Sizing me up, has he made the right decision? He steps onto my front path. I open the door. I look from him to the open door and then back to him again. He walks passed me and into the house.
He is standing in the hallway. He's really handsome, beautiful skin. I close the door. He smiles for the first time, beautiful mouth. Not a joyous smile, a very serious smile, but I get to see his white teeth. He has big, red lips. I want to kiss him. I decide to kiss him. I lean in, he looks nervous, but he kisses back tentatively. He's nice to kiss; sweet, wet lips.
I slide my hand down the front of his jeans. He lets his back pack slide off his shoulders. His jeans are plump, full, as my palm slides over a nice lump under the denim. My hand slips over a nice sized bulge, as we hold each other's gaze. He jumps a little, it's adorable.
I take hold of his waistband and undo the button. He looks down as I do. I unzip his fly and his jeans fall open. I love that moment, the first of undressing. A buzz shoots through my body.
I touch his stomach with the palm of my hand. He is sweaty, warm, he's been walking. He's nervous, I guess. I’m nervous, good nervous. It's nerve wracking until they have their hand down you pants, up until then it can go either way. Of course, feeling a pin sized dick withstanding, it is much harder to back out at this point.
My fingers find his pubes, he is nice and hairy, you know, I still prefer it. Smooth skin and hair follicles sliding across my palm. He has a nice bulge, a handful. I slide my hand into his jocks, to feel the fine chamois of his sweaty soft cock. His warmth, his sweatiness. He starts to breath heavier and he starts to kiss more passionately. Tongue on tongue, lips pushing together. I wrap my fingers around his dick, it is fattening up. He kisses me harder, longer, gasping for breath in between sucks, slurps, licks, wet saliva. I can feel the rod in him, the strength, the man. The spongy flesh is inflating. He slides his tongue deep into my mouth, making little grunty noises. His cock fills my hand, suddenly, in my grip, pushing my fingers apart. There is no more resistance when I squeeze it. I kiss him long and slow, he is a passionate kisser, like he isn't going to stop. He is like metal in my hand; thick, uncut. He pulls his mouth away from mine and moans.
"Ohhhhh." I squeeze his shaft hard. "Ohhhhhhh!!!"
Holding his gaze, I squat down and put his dick in my mouth. It tastes sour, he's precumming, I like the taste. Bitter. Acrid. Delicious. I suck his shiny-with-gizz knob. He shudders. I suck him all the way into my mouth. I slurp on his knob. He moans. He pushes it into my mouth. In my mouth, down my throat. I suck the entire length inside me. His knob hits the back of my throat. I relax my gag and he is impaling me with his cock. Deeper, deeper, deeper he pushes. There is a choking sound, I realise it is me. I want him to feel the full suction of my gullet. He pushes it further down my throat until I can no longer breath.
I choke. He pulls out. Saliva gushes from my mouth, done my chin, hanging off in strands, it falls to my hands.
I suck his knob like the best ice cream cone I have ever had. It is shiny and slippery and I suck it to the roof of my mouth. To the back of my throat. I suck the full length in again.
Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
He grunts. He groans. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh my god. You make me…” He pushes his cock right down my throat. “You make me.” He pulls it out again at speed. “You fucken make me,” the most he has said this far. He pushes his cock to the far depths of my throat.
“Oh, I’m going to…”
He pushes me away. He body is ridged, he holds his boner hard with both hands. His eyes glaze over, he's cumming into his taught fingers. He looks beautiful, spoofing, despite his best efforts.
"Ahhhhh." Cum leaks from his finger, dripping down onto my carpet.
“OH fuck!” His face is contorted into a look of pain. His fingers are webbed with the threads of the tendrils of his warm juice. His thick, hairy legs jerk. He leans his head back against the wall.
"Ohhhhh." His hands are covered in his white juice.
He slides down the wall to the floor. His jeans and jocks are around one ankle. He lays his head back and closes his eyes. His legs are spread, bent at the knees. His cock is still thick with blood, he is young he holds it loosely in one hand. I slip my finger into his hairy crack, it is coarse and bushy.
He groans gently and moves his hands to his side, like a big crumpled doll leaning against the wall.
I can feel his soft ring with the tip of my finger. I so want to fuck him.
He has beautiful eyes when he opens them again, the whites are contrasted against his brown skin. He smiles wanly, red lips, beautiful white teeth.
I spit on my finger and return it to his hairy hole. I massage it gently until he splits slowly, just the very tip of my finger inside him.
"That... that feels good," he whispers.
He looks beautiful; hairy, muscular legs, spread, big purple balls, half-hard cock bouncing gently, hanging off him, bushy pubes climbing up his flat stomach and disappearing under his t-shirt.
I take his cock in my other hand gently, like it is some precious thing. I squeeze it softly. It still has pumped blood in it, it is heavy, thick, weighty.
"I've never..." he shakes his head and smiles. “Done anything like…”
“It’s nice,” I say.”
“It is,” he says.
“I’m Josh.”
“I’m Anoop.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say.
“Like wise,” he says.
I get the bread, so it all takes a bit longer.
I don't know what he has been doing, but he is walking along the other side of the street. He'd be next to me if he'd been on the same side, as I walk home. He is pretty, Indian, probably around twenty. He has a back pack and baggy jeans. He doesn't look over at me for the longest time and I am forgetting him, when he deliberately turns his head to look at me, our eyes meet again and then he looks away.
Yes, you're pretty, I've noticed you.
He doesn't look back again until he gets to the door of the art supply shop. It is as though he's decided he has to go to the art shop until the very last minute. Our eyes meet again, I look straight ahead again. I take two steps and I look back again, he is standing on the footpath looking in my direction.
Okay. I've got your attention now.
I turn back and face him, lock eyes, then turn back and keep walking. I get to the corner and I glance back as I turn. He is crossing the road. I walk to my front gate and look back. I wait, hesitate, and he turns the corner, he sees me waiting. I look in the mail box, as though I am retrieving letters, I look at the front of the envelopes, turn back and he is at the gate. Our eyes meet again.
I walk to the front door and look back at him, as I turn the key. He is right behind me, taking me in. Sizing me up, has he made the right decision? He steps onto my front path. I open the door. I look from him to the open door and then back to him again. He walks passed me and into the house.
He is standing in the hallway. He's really handsome, beautiful skin. I close the door. He smiles for the first time, beautiful mouth. Not a joyous smile, a very serious smile, but I get to see his white teeth. He has big, red lips. I want to kiss him. I decide to kiss him. I lean in, he looks nervous, but he kisses back tentatively. He's nice to kiss; sweet, wet lips.
I slide my hand down the front of his jeans. He lets his back pack slide off his shoulders. His jeans are plump, full, as my palm slides over a nice lump under the denim. My hand slips over a nice sized bulge, as we hold each other's gaze. He jumps a little, it's adorable.
I take hold of his waistband and undo the button. He looks down as I do. I unzip his fly and his jeans fall open. I love that moment, the first of undressing. A buzz shoots through my body.
I touch his stomach with the palm of my hand. He is sweaty, warm, he's been walking. He's nervous, I guess. I’m nervous, good nervous. It's nerve wracking until they have their hand down you pants, up until then it can go either way. Of course, feeling a pin sized dick withstanding, it is much harder to back out at this point.
My fingers find his pubes, he is nice and hairy, you know, I still prefer it. Smooth skin and hair follicles sliding across my palm. He has a nice bulge, a handful. I slide my hand into his jocks, to feel the fine chamois of his sweaty soft cock. His warmth, his sweatiness. He starts to breath heavier and he starts to kiss more passionately. Tongue on tongue, lips pushing together. I wrap my fingers around his dick, it is fattening up. He kisses me harder, longer, gasping for breath in between sucks, slurps, licks, wet saliva. I can feel the rod in him, the strength, the man. The spongy flesh is inflating. He slides his tongue deep into my mouth, making little grunty noises. His cock fills my hand, suddenly, in my grip, pushing my fingers apart. There is no more resistance when I squeeze it. I kiss him long and slow, he is a passionate kisser, like he isn't going to stop. He is like metal in my hand; thick, uncut. He pulls his mouth away from mine and moans.
"Ohhhhh." I squeeze his shaft hard. "Ohhhhhhh!!!"
Holding his gaze, I squat down and put his dick in my mouth. It tastes sour, he's precumming, I like the taste. Bitter. Acrid. Delicious. I suck his shiny-with-gizz knob. He shudders. I suck him all the way into my mouth. I slurp on his knob. He moans. He pushes it into my mouth. In my mouth, down my throat. I suck the entire length inside me. His knob hits the back of my throat. I relax my gag and he is impaling me with his cock. Deeper, deeper, deeper he pushes. There is a choking sound, I realise it is me. I want him to feel the full suction of my gullet. He pushes it further down my throat until I can no longer breath.
I choke. He pulls out. Saliva gushes from my mouth, done my chin, hanging off in strands, it falls to my hands.
I suck his knob like the best ice cream cone I have ever had. It is shiny and slippery and I suck it to the roof of my mouth. To the back of my throat. I suck the full length in again.
Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
He grunts. He groans. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh my god. You make me…” He pushes his cock right down my throat. “You make me.” He pulls it out again at speed. “You fucken make me,” the most he has said this far. He pushes his cock to the far depths of my throat.
“Oh, I’m going to…”
He pushes me away. He body is ridged, he holds his boner hard with both hands. His eyes glaze over, he's cumming into his taught fingers. He looks beautiful, spoofing, despite his best efforts.
"Ahhhhh." Cum leaks from his finger, dripping down onto my carpet.
“OH fuck!” His face is contorted into a look of pain. His fingers are webbed with the threads of the tendrils of his warm juice. His thick, hairy legs jerk. He leans his head back against the wall.
"Ohhhhh." His hands are covered in his white juice.
He slides down the wall to the floor. His jeans and jocks are around one ankle. He lays his head back and closes his eyes. His legs are spread, bent at the knees. His cock is still thick with blood, he is young he holds it loosely in one hand. I slip my finger into his hairy crack, it is coarse and bushy.
He groans gently and moves his hands to his side, like a big crumpled doll leaning against the wall.
I can feel his soft ring with the tip of my finger. I so want to fuck him.
He has beautiful eyes when he opens them again, the whites are contrasted against his brown skin. He smiles wanly, red lips, beautiful white teeth.
I spit on my finger and return it to his hairy hole. I massage it gently until he splits slowly, just the very tip of my finger inside him.
"That... that feels good," he whispers.
He looks beautiful; hairy, muscular legs, spread, big purple balls, half-hard cock bouncing gently, hanging off him, bushy pubes climbing up his flat stomach and disappearing under his t-shirt.
I take his cock in my other hand gently, like it is some precious thing. I squeeze it softly. It still has pumped blood in it, it is heavy, thick, weighty.
"I've never..." he shakes his head and smiles. “Done anything like…”
“It’s nice,” I say.”
“It is,” he says.
“I’m Josh.”
“I’m Anoop.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say.
“Like wise,” he says.
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