"Indian Servant Gives a Hand Job, Part One" by Jay Roberts Interracial
+++No young whelp, this is not a western. This is a story for older folks, 18 or more. In you are younger, then you must take your stuffed animal and toddle off to bed.
===Long as you're here, let me start a telethon for Nifty, that unique superb compendium of spicy tales. A hundred would be nice, but even less will be appreciated to maintain this spigot of sexiness.
Father and Mother were on the continent this summer and they closed the country house as well as the flat in London. They arranged for me to stay at the Duke's estate, mother's Uncle. So when I came down from Eton I installed myself here. The man was in his eighties and stayed in his quarters constantly. I was relegated to dining alone in the great hall.
The only bright spot was the spa. His grace suffered from gout and he had a sauna created off the summer room. And when it was completed he hired a young lad from Bombay, Nigel. That was his rather Englishy name. He was now about twenty two, very comely, though dark of skin.
Now that the Duke was rarely utilizing the facility, Nigel had little to do but clean it endlessly. I believe he was pleased to have me come down there and strip off and enjoy the heated room. I usually asked him not to set it for a very high temperature as I liked to stay longer.
I couldn't help noticing that the young man, hardly more than five years older than me, seemed to stare at my revealed body with a steady regard that both stimulated and embarrassed me.
This day he was sitting on a stool near the towel bin. "Good day Mr. Ian," he said with his delightful Anglo-Indian accent, and stood up respectfully. He seemed to want to add more. I stared at him, waiting and looked closely at his face. My groin warmed as I noticed his thick eyebrows grew on the top of his nose causing his eyebrows to form a single line. Somehow this appears extremely sexy to me. For the first time I noticed his nipples, dark brown, almost purple and the bold line of shiny black hair that began at his navel and plunged downward disappearing into his white trousers. That trail matched the hair on his slim brown arms and on the back of his well shaped hands.
I found that I was breathing audibly but controlled myself.
"I was going to say, Sir, that I have much training in massage and should you wish to avail yourself, I shall be at your service."
I thought for a moment, then I brightened. "Suppose I warm myself in the sauna, at low heat and you can massage me in there. Will that be possible?"
"Most excellent. I shall organize my equipment and join you in about a quarter of an hour."
I am not sure if I was being coquettish but I dropped my towel as I entered the sauna. My nineteen year old arse was on view to this servant. I must be daft!
In the tiled room, sitting on the lower bench, I lay back insolently, my mind filled with pictures of Nigel's face and body. By the time the door opened and Nigel entered, my prick was somewhat plumped up.
He neared me, staring at my face. "Oh Sir, I must say that you look very sad today. In goes directly to my heart to see you thus."
He had changed to a brief, white cotton short and now his hairy, well form legs presented themselves to my view. He came close and patted my shoulder. Without being aware of it, I leaned my head against the comforting hand and he took that as an encouragement or a need of mine. Consequently, he continued his ministrations by patting my back, then moved to rub my chest.
"Poor lad," he murmured, "I believe you are lonely, and..." noticing my now stiffening cock, he added, "And horny, no?"
"I guess I am, but I shall just have to bear it."
"Perhaps not," He whispered directly into my ear and goose bumps ran up and down my spine.
I turned my face upwards toward him. "What do you mean?"
He placed his hand on my smooth, hairless leg and moved in a back and forth, in a hypnotic pattern. "I can take you across the river."
He intoned that so musically, that although I did not understand the word, I was able to guess what he meant.
He caressed my cheek and ran his finger gently across my lips. His index finger pushed into my mouth. "Suck on this," He said in a strong voice.
I suckled it like a baby. It felt right and I began to be calm, yet exited sexually. My prick was flexing and my pale skin was blushing on my cheeks and upper chest.
"You want to cross the river?" he asked firmly.
I nodded.
He slipped off his shorts and kicked away his sandals. His penis was stiff and long, rather thin with a purple head. His large hanging sac was dark in color.
He reached out and touched my prick with one finger. That finger moved up and down tentatively. "You like this?"
"Yes," I barely whispered, "More!"
He laughed, delightedly. "Oh young master, you are lucky, you have a. wonderful treat in store. Nigel is a messenger of pleasure."
As he learned every inch of my sex like a blind man, I felt myself drifting into a sort of sexual haze. He looked into my face and saw the vacancy settling there and he nodded in satisfaction. The back of his hand wiped away the drool that was dripping from the corner of my slack mouth.
My cock was as stiff as it could be and was tingling with currents running up and down its length. My dark pleasurer now moved up on the bench and placed his lean, hairy thigh next to my shaking leg. He put an arm around my should and allowed his hand to droop so that the fingers were at my pale pink nipple. He began to lightly stroke my penis utilizing the copious slippery discharge and at the same time began to move back and forth over my stiff nipple.
I was gasping with excitement. He hugged me tightly and began wanking my member in earnest. In my sexual trance I barely heard my dear servant speaking in his lilting voice. "My beautiful boy with face of an angel and body of a divine god, slip into heaven, let me catch your seed in my palm."
His stroking changed In speed and pressure. My legs began to rise and my body began to slightly go into a fucking motion. It was going to happen soon. I was wailing happily, enjoying the short trip ahead to bliss.
He whispered in my ear, "Now my beauty, we are about to cross the river."
His hand wanked at breakneck speed and he happed his thumb at each stroke, over my cock head slit. I threw my head back and grunted, pig like. Sweat broke out across my chest and my thighs roiled higher.
"I'm going to spill," I said in a hoarse, almost choking voice.
"Allow it to happen. Don't fight it."
Yet it didn't happen then. I was caught at the top of the mountain not yet able to tumble down. Nigel understood and he leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth and with his full lips and hot tongue to sucked. I
Felt myself rolling down that hill and my hips began lifting and my prick grew even stiffer as I entered into six bouts of heavy discharge.
Finally I was finished. I sat with heaving breath, my head hanging in exhaustion. I heard a lapping sound. Nigel's red tongue was feeding from his hand and licking the pool of semen there. He finished, smacked his lips. "Delicious, it will sustain me this day."
"Now dearest, we must bath you and you might have your lunch. Tomorrow we shall perform your massage." Then in a very firm voice, he added, "You wish that. Yes?"
He was bordering on insolence, calling me a pet name and then almost demanding I reply, but I found myself answering in a boyish voice, "Yes."
End Part One