Sunday, June 21, 2015

INITIATION

'Don't you want to have some hot fun?' He texted me.
My breath was caught in my throat for one exhilarating moment before i expelled it. I was erect and blood was pounding on my temples. In retrospect this visceral response would have surprised me but at that moment i was so consumed by lust that any other idea was inconceivable.
'Okay , come over, i texted back.

Which is ironical because before his lubricious reply i had texted him saying 'have to go out somewhere, another time maybe' Perhaps he sensed my hesitation. Or waves of my lust, unconstrained by this frenetic message ,convinced him that he could win me over. He was a prostitute after all, well versed in the accoutrements of sexual projection.And his message did have the desired effect. I was panting, expectant. It was to be my first sexual encounter.

I had met him on twitter on a page on delhi male prostitutes. He was one of the few who had been forthcoming online about his number. My fingers trembled when i called him. And when we finalised our deal which was to culminate in his coming over , i marvelled at the ease and desultoriness of our transaction. I hadn't presaged any difficulties but neither had i expected that this sexual desire which tormented me delectably would find such convenient a space for release.

For that summer sexual heat overpowered me. I watched pornography incessantly and my fantasies were peopled by an assortment of men culled from my unconscious. The surprising thing was that my taste for men, as far as the sex was concerned, was indiscriminate. It didn't matter how dark or fair, tall or short the man was. His prick and its priapic peregrinations around my tumescent dreamscape was pleasurable enough. I was masturbating frequently, indefatigably. My dick felt raw and it pained when i peed, a sharp ,piquant pain which attenuated sexual desire by dispersing it throughout my body. In fact i would have, if i could, circumvent sex altogether but the internet proved to be both a stimulus and an opportunity to actualize my lust. Which is how i met him.

I was too exited to take a bath when he was to come. So i brushed my teeth and powdered my crotch region. I had already exhausted the possibilities this intersection would institute. My imagination, having traversed the inexhaustible terrain of  possibilities as yet undefined prosaically , roamed forth copiously. All night long i had slept fitfully, engorged and alternately hesitant and excited, oscillating between excoriation at the imprudence of my folly and an irrepressible thrill at my insouciance.

He rang the bell. I opened the door. He was bespectacled, clean shaven, dark brown in skin. He was dressed casually in a jeans and a blue summery shirt. His presence seemed incongruous in that the form didn't match his putative function. He could just as well be a college friend visiting me over the summer holidays. The oddity of my predicament,which really was an undermining of my preconceptions, did not pass me by. 'Hi ', he said shyly.

'Would you like some water?' and without waiting for a reply i pour out a glass for him from the bottle in the fridge.
 'So, where shall we do it', he asks.
I direct him to the bedroom. The bed my parents shared before my father's precipitate and untimely demise. The titillation of the contraband lurked subconsciously.

We took off our clothes. He had a hairy chest but a relatively small penis. I had been so used to the monstrous cocks in porn that i was slightly nonplussed. Lust seemed to be leaking away from me. A self consciousness was being inveigled. But lust, though less concupiscent, was still present enough to seek some consummation. I began sucking his nipples but the chest hair striating these aureoles rasped the edges of my mouth rather disgustingly. Then i turned to his cock, sucking it assiduously. 'You're amazing, baby, you're amazing', he crooned, replicating those porn intonations i had watched so thrillingly. Suddenly i had a curiously disembodied sensation of unreality, as though i were myself in a porn movie. The element of the phantasmagoric and farcical didn't escape me by. But as i sucked away at his cock my growing disenchantment was unavoidable. I milked his testicles greedily and as the semen gushed forth i swallowed it like sacrament.

But the semen had such a sharp, bitter astringence that i choked. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, intimating its rancid unsavourieness. 'Can we have anal sex?' i humbly inquired. He whipped out a condom and enclosed it around his penis. He did some preliminary work on my anus before the first thrust. And when the first thrust occurred i doubled over in pain and shock. My eyes glazed. The visitation sent an immeasurably jabbing pain up my body. I simulated disinterest as i wriggled out of this situation by refocusing on his cock.
I think by now my accumulating disinterest and impersonality in the sex act, spiked with terror, must have communicated itself to him. He told me to lie down. He began to lick the underarm hair in my armpit but puckered up his nose asking 'didn't you have a bath' and i was ready to die with the awkwardness of it. Then he proceeded to suck my cock.I am uncircumcised and he kept trying to peel back the foreskin which made the skin around my penis burn. I abruptly asked him to stop.

He dressed himself. I offered him some lunch and paid him thrice the amount he'd charge. I was ashamed of the rather anti climactic nature of my fantasies, disappointed with this episode whose promises had already been expended before the deed occurred and relieved simultaneously that nothing untoward had taken place. He was rather nice about the whole thing and grateful too but i had learnt my lesson. The more baroque the imagination the more sordid the reality. And sex was about pain too.

This was a painful initiation. Over the next few days i toyed with the idea of calling him again and restitute for my uninspired and meretricious performance. But the sex bug in me had quietened for a bit. Besides the next semester was beginning soon. My summer of misadventure was finally over. 

No comments:

Post a Comment