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This is a work of fiction. All persons are intended to beage 18 and above.
FROM INDIAWITH LOVE
By anonymous.a
Sometimes on the way to work I stopby a convenience for a bottle of Diet Pepsi. I know -- sodas are bad for you,including sodas sweetened with artificial sweeteners. You know what? Everythingis bad for you to some extent. I happen to like the sharp taste of cola in themorning -- unless the weather is cold, in which case coffee is my beverage ofchoice. When the mood strikes I don't deprive myself of a soda fix. Sue me.
There's a store just around thecorner from my house. It was closed for awhile and I figured it would be torndown and replaced with something essential to mankind's survival, like a nailsalon or another mattress outlet. But somebody bought it, cleaned it up,replaced all the underground gas tanks and re-opened it as a convenience store.
I began stopping there on my way tothe office because their 16-ounce sodas were about a nickel cheaper than theother nearby convenience store, and that meant I didn't have to break a dollarto pay the tax. Their coolers weren't turned down as low as the other store'sbut that was OK. I could always toss my drink into the freezer at work until itwas close to the point of freezing. I like 'em that way -- especially on a hotsummer day.
The people who bought the store turnedout to be a family from Indiaso recent to the United Statesthey had not lost their accent and in fact, spoke little English. I spoke not aword of Hindi, either, but that too was OK -- they understood American currencyjust fine and we communicated with smiles and nods. Good for them for trying tomake a better life for themselves and having the guts to move to a foreigncountry and open a business. It can't be easy doing that in the States, whereregulations often baffle even native-born Americans.
On this muggy summer morning Ipulled into the angled parking space along the hedge that separated theconvenience store from the apartment complex next door and got out. The heatswarmed over me like a giant, wet dog that was too big and bulky for your lapbut he wanted to be there anyway. The asphalt seemed partially melted and stuckto the bottoms of my shoes as I hurried to the front door -- or was that 10years of accumulated spilled Slurpees and dropped Skittles and chewing tobaccospit? Oh well.
Inside it was cooler, but not awhole lot. At least not as chilly as Americans usually set their thermostats.Maybe in Indiathey prefer warmer temperatures. Maybe they were just trying to save money onair-conditioning.
I noticed a not-bad looking manchatting up the dark-skinned clerk behind the counter. The man looked to be inhis late 20s and had a thin, scraggly beard that matched his thinning, flyawayhair. He was talking amiably, as if the clerk could understand him, and theclerk was smiling and nodding as if he could. But I knew better.
I had seen him there virtuallyevery time I dropped by the store. He couldn't have been older than his early20s and featured the dark complexion and jet-black hair of people from that fareastern subcontinent. He was only about 5-7 and couldn't have weighed more than125 pounds. Overall he was a good-looking guy and I wouldn't have minded seeingwhat was hidden under that polo-style shirt and blue jeans. But how do you flirtwith a guy who's unfamiliar with the customs of your country?
The American was giving it a go. ButI knew he would fail.
I went to the back of the storewhere the cooler sat and found my big plastic bottle of Diet Pepsi. I returnedto the front and got behind the American, who was still trying to woo the youngIndian. He gave me an irritated glance and I smiled, thinking, You're wasting your time, buddy. But Iconcur with your tastes. I wouldn't mind fucking that tight little Indian assmyself.
Finally, reluctantly, the man paidhis bill - $12 in gas -- and left, giving me the stink eye as he sidled past me.I had interrupted his pitch and now I was the evil cock blocker. Oh well. I putmy drink on the country with a wet thonk.
"He wanted you," I blurted to theyoung clerk without really thinking, who smiled without understanding and rangup the soft drink. Why had I done that? To make him uncomfortable? Because Icould?
Or was I secretly sizing him up formy own pleasure?
I pointed to the man, who was nowgetting into his Kia. I made the universal gesture of a blowjob -- fingers ofright hand in a circle, as if clutching a big dick; mouth open; head bobbing --and then pointed to the clerk. He understood instantly and reared back insurprise, then let out an uneasy giggle, as if such thoughts had never occurredto him. Then he did an odd thing. He sort of shrugged and smiled halfheartedly,as if to say, "Oh well. What are you gonna do. That wouldn't have been such abad thing."
Whoa.
I wondered if our recent arrivalmight be up for a little horseplay. He gave me my change and was it myimagination or did his fingers linger on the palm of my hand a little too long?My imagination kicked into high gear and I felt my cock stirring in mybritches. I was not against a morning quickie on the way to the office, and ifthis boy was obliging. ...
I looked him in the eye andwondered how he would react if. ...
And then I said fuck it. Luckalways favors the bold.
With the same impulsive lack ofconcern I had shown a moment ago, I pointed to myself. I repeated the blowjobsign, and then I pointed at him.
His face went neutral and one ofthose dark, furry eyebrows arched. But he didn't seem instantly averse to theidea. A lot of guys would have grimaced and said no -- emphatically. But nothim. He glanced at the digital watch on his wrist (Who wore digital watchesanymore?) and seemed to come to some kind of decision. Then he grabbed a key onthe cash register and turned it, presumably locking it, and made his way aroundthe counter.
As he made his way past me he kindof rubbed against me and I definitely felt something hard below his belt pokingagainst my hip. He started heading back to the rear of the store, and Ifollowed. I was sure he was heading to the lone, universal restroom, but he stoppedshort and unlocked a door that led to the cooler. He gestured me to stepinside.
The cooler consisted of a set of angledshelves facing the customer, a walkway, and then three rows that held stocks ofbeer, soft drinks, milk, and other items that might spoil in the higher roomtemperature of the store itself. Three rows back and there was another walkway-- for stocking the storage shelves. Nobody could see us behind that last shelf,and that's where we went.
He didn't waste any time.
He pulled up the bottom of his poloand undid his jeans, shoving them down. No underwear.
Out spilled one of the bigger dicksI had ever seen, a fat, dark sausage of flesh that looked for all the worldlike a python pouring itself out of a jungle of pubic hair to bask in theafternoon sun. Holy God, it was a monster. I couldn't believe such a small,slight young man could have such an impressive animal hidden in those tightjeans, and I immediately fell to my knees in front of it, as if to worship.
He stepped closer.
I buried my face in his crotch. Hehad an exotic aroma, some kind of spice I couldn't identify mixed with the moreuniversal scents of perspiration, piss and male musk. I opened my mouth and ranmy tongue the length of that thickening snake, which by now had come unstuckfrom his balls and was growing thicker and longer. He was not circumcised buthis cock had already emerged from that fleshy sheath and was glistening in thedim, cold light of the freezer. I gripped his hips, and his hands found theback of my head. I opened wide to slide that monster inside.
His taste was as strange anddifferent as his smell. Again there was the hint of spice against a cocktail offamiliar flavors. I made a note to look up Indian cuisine online to see if Icould identify that flavoring.
He immediately began thrusting intomy mouth. I really had to gape my jaws to accommodate that fat tube, and hisinsistent prodding at my throat encouraged me to swallow him, despite hisgirth. When his cock went down, past that part of my throat where the gagreflex lives, he squeaked out a little puppy dog whimper and thrust evenharder.
The air whistled through mynostrils as I struggled to breathe and swallow my spit as he face fucked me. Myhands went from his hips to his smooth, brown ass. I cupped his butt cheeks andreveled in the feel of his muscles flexing and unflexing as he thrust into mythroat, hesitantly at first but with increasing force until finally he seemedto cross a boundary of restraint and simply pushed his entire crotch into myface.
I was using the middle finger of myright hand to rub his asshole, which was mostly dry and wrinkled. I wanted toforce it inside but it wasn't lubed and I knew the sudden, maybe painful entrywould distract him and he might pull away, and I sure didn't want that tohappen. I was enjoying this violent blowjob for every painful thrust it wasworth. Despite the fact my cock was still in my pants, it was hard as wroughtiron and probably leaking gallons of prostate fluid. I would have to take careof THAT little problem after I got back to the car.
For the next five minutes, hepounded my face without mercy. My universe became his crotch -- the smell of it,the dark thatch of pubes advancing and retreating, the mist of sweat beginningto slicken the skin above his pubic thatch. It was all very intoxicating andarousing, sucking off this young man from India. I wondered if part of hisurgency sprang from the fact homosexuality is culturally forbidden in thatcountry. If so, he was more than making up for it know. His balls crashedagainst my chin as he pounded away, and that huge, beefy python was choking me-- from the inside.
I could tell he was reaching hisclimax when his yips became deeper grunts -- unh,unh, unh -- and his hands pulled my face ever deeper into his crotch. I felthis ass muscles clench and then a mighty wallop of cum spit down my throat,seeming to drain his balls in a single, all-encompassing spasm of ecstasy. Hestood there, that fat cock buried to the hilt in my sucking mouth, as heemptied himself inside me. His ass clenched my finger as he did so and I couldfeel his anus winking as the waves of his orgasm spread out across his nervoussystem. My own cock was leaking and I knew if I so much as touched it, thething would explode, making a mess in my pants. I'd have to go back home andshower, then change clothes. So I kept my hands on his now-sweaty ass and beganusing my mouth and throat to milk him.
I looked up and saw his headlolling, a dreamy smile on his lips. His eyes were closed and his nostrilsflared as he sucked in air with a loud hissing sound, so loud I actually heardit over the dull roar of the freezer fan.
His cock began to lose its stiffnessand slowly I let it pull out of my throat. When it sprang free I licked at thehead furiously, cleaning up every molecule of jizz. Then I went below it to theballs and gave them a good cleaning. And finally, to his surprise, I spun himaround and buried my face in his ass crack. I don't think they rim back in India becausejudging by his shock, this was an entirely new experience for him. But heck, Iwas a pro. I gave him my top-shelf tongue bath and made sure I wiggled the tipagainst his tightly clenched anus.
At last, and not a littlereluctantly, I stood up. He pulled up his pants, giving me a shy smile as heturned to leave the freezer. But I stopped him and delivered a quick kiss tohis lips. That, too, seemed to shock him, but he didn't resist.
And then, after checking to makesure the coast was clear, we left the cooler. He went back behind the counterand unlocked the cash register -- just in time as it were. A man had just gassedup the minivan and was headed inside while his kids sulked inside, their facesburied in mobile phones.
And I could now go to work and notworry about freezing my soda.
All that time in the cooler hadchilled it just the way I liked them!
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