Mera naam Krish hai, and I’m 22, standing at 5.8 feet with a well-toned athlete’s body, blessed with a 7-inch tool that I had yet to fully explore. I was in my second year of B.Tech, living alone in Delhi, a city that had already started to feel like home after first year. I had made several neighbours, but one in particular caught my attention.
There was this neighbor, a brother living next door, who one day suggested I tutor his son. With plenty of free time after college, I saw no reason to say no. Our bond was strong, so I began my journey to their house, where I’d meet my 8-year-old student and his mother, with whom I shared a comfortable rapport.
One day, while heading for the tuition, bhabhi introduced me to her brother, Rishabh, who was 24 and visiting for a short while. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I noticed his gaze lingering on me, scanning me from head to toe in a way that was hard to ignore. Over the next few days, I observed Rishabh’s effeminate behavior – he had a certain allure, with a voluptuous ass and what seemed like small breasts.
Every time I tutored the kid, Rishabh would come and sit beside me, engaging in frivolous talk, his hands often finding excuses to brush against my crotch, all under the guise of playful banter. My suspicions grew; this guy was giving off clear gay vibes.
One evening, bhabhi and bhaiya had plans to go out, asking me to stay longer as their son wouldn’t fuss about leaving the house when I was there. I agreed. After putting the kid to sleep on the sofa and turning the TV on, I waited for bhaiya and bhabhi to return.
Then, Rishabh appeared, dressed in nothing but a bright red underwear that resembled women’s panties, clinging to his curves. He sat beside me. Rishabh’s eyes were fixed on me, his gaze heavy with desire as he sat beside me, his red underwear barely covering him, mimicking the shape of women’s panties.
The room was dimly lit, the only sound coming from the TV where Nora Fatehi danced, her movements igniting a fire in my lower abdomen. My excitement was palpable, creating a noticeable tent in my lowers. Rishabh’s chuckle was low, almost a purr, as he watched my arousal.
With an urgency that spoke volumes, he reached out, his hand wrapping around my tool through the fabric, his touch bold and unapologetic. I knew then what he wanted, and I was ready to give in to this new, thrilling experience. I slid my lowers down, watching as my 7-inch erection sprang free, standing proud and eager. Rishabh’s eyes widened in delight, his voice a whisper of anticipation, “I’ve seen many, but none like this. It’s going to be a delight to suck.”
He wasted no time, his mouth enveloping me with a warmth that sent shockwaves through my body. His lips were soft, his tongue swirling around my tip, exploring every inch with a skill that suggested he wasn’t new to this. The room filled with the sounds of his sucking, mixed with my low moans, the pleasure building like a crescendo.
After what felt like an eternity of bliss, I managed to ask, my voice strained with need, “Should I cum here or somewhere else?” In response, Rishabh stood, his red underwear slipping down his legs, revealing his voluptuous ass. It was like two ripe watermelons, inviting and ready. I positioned him, his body bending forward into a doggy-style pose, his hole already slightly open, a testament to his past experiences.
I spat on his hole, the saliva glistening in the dim light, then rubbed some onto my own tip for lubrication. Positioning myself, I aligned my cock with his entrance, the anticipation thick in the air. With a firm thrust, I entered him, his scream echoing through the room, a mix of pain and pleasure. For a moment, I paused, letting him adjust to my size.
Then, I began to move, starting slow, feeling every inch of him. His moans were like music, urging me on. “Fuck me, make me your slut,” he pleaded, his voice thick with desire. His words fueled my own lust; I increased my pace, our bodies slapping together, the rhythm primal and intoxicating.
His ass was tight yet welcoming, the sensation overwhelming. I could feel the heat, the pressure building, each thrust driving us both towards the edge. His moans turned into chants, his body arching back to meet my thrusts.
After what seemed like an endless dance of pleasure, I felt the familiar tightening in my core, the rush of my climax approaching. With a few more deep, hard thrusts, I released inside him, the warmth spreading, marking the end of this intense journey.
We both stayed there, panting, the reality of what just happened settling in, but the thrill of it was undeniable. As I withdrew, the afterglow was immediate, leaving us both in a haze of satisfaction and the silent agreement of our shared secret.
