My gay Asian conversion

It is late afternoon and I'm in a taxi. It's my cleaner's husband's taxi. We are in Suriname and there are lots of people of Asian origin here. They are known locally as Hindustanis. The cleaner is a nice lady. She's Hindustani too and I find her very attractive. But today I am in the mood for man sex.

She has kindly arranged for her husband to take me into town, which is ten miles, So I will be in this small car for quite a while. Just me and this man. This Indian man. This Indian man wearing shorts. This Indian man with hairy legs protruding from his shorts. He is quite tall, taller than me, and has a bit of extra weight around the middle. This makes his shirt sag over his waistband. I like a man who looks like he has lived a bit, just in a normal way: the man next door who just happens to have homosexual desires sometimes.

We are making polite conversation but I have to get past that. I need to let him know that if there is a gay gene in his body, he can satisfy it right now.

"Your wife is a good looking woman, Asil," I say.

"Uh huh," he replies. "You want to fuck her?"

I hesitate.

"That can be arranged," he continues. "For a price."

It's a very sexual country, Suriname. Everybody seems only a few words away from having sex.

"I don't want to fuck your wife," I say. " I am in the mood for something else."

"Like what?" he asks, and I can see he is getting the idea but has to think it through.

I put my hand on his leg and give it a quick pat, feeling the hair and getting more turned on by the second.

He says nothing, but pulls off the road into a little wood. he pulls up under a tree and puts the handbrake on but leaves the engine running for the airconditioner.

"You touched my leg," he says, fishing for encouragement.

"Did you like it?" I ask.

"You can suck my cock," he replies. "Then we'll see."

He pulls his shorts down to his knees and then off. His underpants are tight and black. The pubic hair spills over the waistband and out the sides. I put my hand on his bulge and feel his hardening cock. I get on my knees as far as possible in this confined space, then pull the pants down. I can smell his sweaty balls. I like it.

His cock and balls are not so much brown as gunmetal grey. Wicked-looking. Naughty. Dirty. Spunky. Fucky. Thrilling.

I put my face into his lap and take his stout cock in my mouth. It tastes salty and savoury and delicious. Not too hammy, but saucy. He puts a hand on my head, caressing the one who is giving him a blowjob he wasn't expecting. He is wriggling a little as he gets more turned on.

"I won't last long," he warns me. "So unless you want me to cum in your mouth you'd better stop now."

"Cum in my mouth," I say. "As long as you can fuck me afterwards."

"I am in no hurry," he says. "My friend lives here, down the track. I will send him a message.We can go inside. But suck me, keep sucking me."

I have no intention of stopping. What I want most in the world is to have this man's Indian semen in my mouth. I gently feel his balls and they are heavy and hairy. Masculine. Full of cum.

I kiss his knob and suck him a bit, then start wanking him seriously. He stiffens his buttocks as if it is working, so I intensify still further. Then he pushes my hand aside and says, "Let me."

"Cum in my mouth," I urge him. "Not on my face. When you're ready just put it in my mouth."

"Like this?" he asks, plunging himself into my upper orifice and pumping in a flood of warm cum. This is wonderful to me. So exciting, so horny, so satisfying.

"Give me a minute," he says, panting. "Than we can go inside. He takes a handkerchief from a pocket and wipes himself up. Then, taking a deep breath, he flings his door open and tells me to follow him.

We walk a few yards to a scruffy, unfinished concrete building and he knocks on the door. A short, fat, brown skinned middle aged man opens it, wearing nothing but underpants. They have a brief conversation in what I imagine is Hindi. From their intonations and facial expressions I know they are talking about me and my need for Asian cock. Or maybe that's just what I hope they are discussing, because it's true.

"Come," Asil says. "This is Mahendra."

I follow them into Mahendra's bedroom. There is no preamble, no polite bit of getting-to-know-you. They have decided to both have sex with me. I like it. They can do anything they want.

"Take your clothes off," Mahendra says firmly, and I do so in seconds. He looks me in the eye, his intention clear and with no need for my permission.

"On your knees," our host says. He pulls off his crumpled red boxers to reveal a forest of black pubic hair with a short, stubby erection bolt upright. He pulls my head towards it and I need no further invitation. I suck the second Indian cock in my life and in the last half an hour. He strokes my hair.

"You are a good young man," he says. "We are nice to good young men, aren't we Asil? If they do what we say, we give them a good time. I am going to fuck you, that's what is going to happen. When I have finished with you Asil will fuck you too. No condoms. we will fill you with our spunk."

Again, he sees no need to ask my permission. He knows that being talked to like this opens the floodgates of lust in me, if they weren't open already.

"Kneel on the bed," Mahendra says flatly. He takes a tube of lubricant from a drawer and spreads it in my crack.

"Now get on your back," he says. "You can watch the lust of two Indian men who are using you. And we can watch the desire in your eyes."

I am on my back before he has finished his speech. I pull my legs up, exposing my shiny, slick anus. I look at Asil, whose right hand is busy in his shorts. He doesn't smile, just gives me a steely look that says, "Just you wait, I'm coming next."

Mahendra takes control of my legs and shuffles on his knees until his short chunky cock is at my entrance and his fat hairy belly is rubbing mine.

With no prodding or teasing he slides right into me. He knows I am more than ready. My ass takes his cock eagerly, gratefully. Every push is heavenly, every pull back thrilling. In out in out in out, driving me crazy with my dirty erotic need, but now that he is inside me, now I am being fucked by this man while his friend watches, what is there left to desire? Only that it will go on all evening, all night, until they have fucked me and themselves raw, drained. and then a date to do it all again when we have recovered.

But right now I am in the middle of it, with Mahendra's penis up my back passage. His eyes are boring into mine as he pounds me. Then they turn even steelier with the knowledge he is about to cum, and he thumps his mound against my crotch and I feel his cock spasm as he delivers his load into my rectum. He pauses and just looks at me but says nothing. Maybe he can't think of anything dirty enough, but in truth we are in the middle of the dirtiest thing I have ever been involved in and words are not needed.

Mahendra takes a flannel to wipe his spunk as it drips out of me, then applies more lube before handing over to Asil.

Asil's cock is much longer and equally hard. I am already in love with it and his balls from our encounter in the car. I have already swallowed this man's semen, so when he leans down to kiss me - an unexpected pleasure which seems to contain a message that I am his - I respond with a strange willingness to belong.

Asil pops into me easily and give me no more than five or six long thrusts before pulling out and telling me to get on my knees. I comply immediately of course because right now in this situation Asil is my master.

To my surprise he spanks me - not a playful pat but a hefty, sharp smack that wakes me from my erotic reverie and takes me back to the starting blocks. This is stage one of being fucked by Asil. Being buggered by a dominant man while another dominant man watches my surrender. Asil spanks me again and again, harder and harder. It would hurt if it weren't being immediately absorbed as erotic pleasure. I feel he could make me cum just by doing that.

"Are you ready for me?" he asks quietly.

"Yes," I whisper. "Please bugger me, Asil."

I notice Mahendra is hard again and starts to stroke himself as he hears the b word.

Asil thrusts in and drags out and every stroke is fabulous. I am in X-certificate ecstasy, being driven towards what I feel could be an explosion of my own semen and some sort of cataclysmic event in my head too. I become aware of Mahendra approaching me and waving his cock in my face, so I open my mouth and he slips it in. I give him a good suck but the thrill of having two men on the go simultaneously is overcome by a need to concentrate on one. Asil's cock is up my arse and Asil is my master. I need to give him my full attention, so I kiss Mahenrda's knob politely and he seems to get the idea, backing away from me.

Asil strokes my side to express his approval and proceeds to pump me steadily and masterfully. He is claiming me and I like it. I don't like the idea of anyone being someone's bitch, because that is demeaning, although it is not far off describing my role with Asil, but it is the wrong side of the line for me. There is affection between us. We haven't spoken about it yet but we will.

As if reading my mind, Asil asks Mahendra to give us a moment and the other man does so. As the door closes, Asil withdraws his cock, I lie on my back and he gets on top of me. He kisses me tenderly, deeply and passionately.

"I like you, Asil," I say softly. "I want to do this again with you."

We have met before because his wife works for me, and although I never thought of him in a sexual way, I suppose some sort of respect and affection has grown, and now it has suddenly blossomed.

"If that is what you want," Asil replies, "I want it too. I didn't think you were interested."

"I didn't think I could feel like this about a man," I confess. "But I love the way we are together. I loved sucking you in the car and I love what we are doing now."

"Do you like being spanked?" he asks.

"By you, yes," i say. "I will accept anything from you. In future we can meet at my place and you can do whatever you want. You will call the shots."

"Yes," he says. "I have plans for you. Just tell me one thing you want."

"I want you to piss on me," I say hesitantly. Some men are surprisingly conservative and squeamish even though they are happy enough to put their cock in another man's shitbox and exchange mouthfuls of semen.

"You will have my urine all over you," he promises.

"Dpn't tell me any more now," I say. "Whatever you want, even if I seem unsure at first, you are my man, my homosexual lover."

He kisses me again, long and tenderly. Then he rolls me over again and gives me an almighty spanking before licking my arse and forcing his rampant cock back into my hole. He fucks me with something like desperation, a sort of need to seal the deal, to consummate our relationship. And as I feel him release his spunk in my depths, I have an unexpected release myself, my semen shooting out as if pushed by Asil's cock.

I must have this man again. Soon. I must surrender myself to his wishes, in private at my house, where he can educate me at leisure in the subtle and outrageous arts of homosexual physical love.