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I hated every moment of it. I hated the fact that they knew their ways around my naked body. I hated the way they made it look dirty. I hated the smell of sweat and cum. I hated their purring, their moaning, the hungry look in their eyes. I hated them from the very moment she had placed her hands on my shoulders. And I know I would hate them every time I would come to my boyfriend’s house pretending to meet him. … Lez, my boyfriend for the past 2 years, had rarely mentioned about his family. Though our relationship mainly bordered on the carnal side, we had those rare moments where we would lie on my bed, sweating and panting, trying to catch some breath till we are hard again. I would do most of the talking, and he would just listen. Sometimes I would just wonder if the cigarette was more capturing than my rambling. Sometimes, I would just give up, and remain quiet. And he would then turn and face me. Then in a flash he would be on top, rubbing his nose against my chin, smelling me, and then pulling me up against his chest, and burying his face on the right side of my neck. It was always the right side. And we would just stay there for moments which I had never bothered to count. And I would feel his thumping heart, the roughness of his stubble, the limp dick in between my legs slowly (though it always seemed to be in a flash at that time) getting harder, and the tickling and throbbing sensation against my balls, and the hairs down there brushing against mine, the beads of sweat slowly trickling down his back against my hands; I could almost see the curves of his ass, and I would then just close my eyes and imagine how the buns would shake while fucking me. I often wished I had mirrors on the ceiling, so that I could see the show in full action. Nothing turned me on more than a movie scene with a shot of the ass pumping hard. And as I would get hard and my cock would start to hurt due to the little space between our bodies, I would squeeze him for one last time. He felt so cuddly. I often stared at him in class, in the canteen, anywhere when we were together, getting the huge urge to squeeze him tight. And those few seconds till he goes back in control, I would squeeze him harder, feeling his every breath, every shudder, and every heartbeat. … Lez and I were in the same under-graduate class. He was a gym-built, pumped up, chiselled faced rough guy, who had major attitude problem. Often he ended up in fights, which made him look both tough and intimidating. I was quite uncomfortable with him at first. I was this tall, slim yet well-toned guy, who would steal a quick glance at every bulge that went with a tall and young stylish face. I was a closet gay, who enjoyed getting fucked ever since my cousin brother and I had shared the same bed, some six years back, during a family wedding. Lez had caught my eyes when I saw him play basketball one day after class. I had shagged that night thinking about him. And four days later, during a moment of self-doubt in a computer class, I asked him for help. I always wanted to ask him whether he had rubbed his bulge against my arms purposely, or it all happened by accident. That afternoon was tough. I was sweating and rock hard. I could feel the curve of his dick that slowly became hard as my arms, as if innocently, tried to work on the mouse while cautiously brushing against it. He stood still for sometime, and then moved away. I didn’t look at him for sometime. Then I did, and he did too. And we both smiled. I think I blushed a little too evidently. I was warm. And it felt great. I thought I might just be lucky. And I was. He gave me a lift back to the hostel. Then asked me if I could lend some notes of a subject whose name I didn’t even bother to ask. To my relief my roommate was not there. And as I was trying to pull out some papers from my desk, he stood close to me. I stopped and waited. Then as if on cue, he tried to reach out to some book on the other corner of the table. His face was looking at the book, and we were both breathing hard. We could feel the warmth of our breath and bodies, and for a moment I felt the blood rush to my head. His hand was still on the book. His eyes were fixed on it, and his left cheek was towards me. He did not move, but I could feel his chest thumping against my right arm. I turned and faced him. He looked at me, and then inched closer to pick the book up. And I knew it was happening. He was close, his crotch almost within my reach, as was his chest, his face, his lips. In a quick move, I gave a peck on his right cheek, but before I could come back to my original position and assess the damage I could have caused, his hands gripped my arms, and he opened his mouth over mine. And the smell of tobacco and mint, followed by a wet tongue and saliva, and a tight hug and pelvic thrusts, and then a quick zipping down of jeans, and I had his hard medium sized dick in my mouth. It was warm and hard, oozing pre-cum with the stifling moist smell. … I somehow managed to be the star pupil of my class. And in spite of facing a tough opposition and frequent taunts about my subtle effeminate demeanour, I managed to become the general secretary of the class. As I walked up the dais to shake hands with the disgusting dean of ours, I looked at Lez who was standing nearby, waiting for his turn as the sports secretary, and looking quite bored with the entire proceedings. He just stared at me. … I felt a sudden jolt of pain in my stomach and chest. I stood there motionless. I was hurt. I was jealous. I simply stared at Lez and Laila, riding Lez’s silver coloured Yamaha. I had seen the two of them talking and laughing, and I knew Lez was not gay, and we were just having sex. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, I couldn’t help. I was infatuated. I was probably in love. … In the heat of the moment, Lez knocked off an alarm clock kept on the side-table. The moment was gone, and we were both motionless and quiet. It was an old clock, presented to me by my aunt. I shrugged and turned towards him. He was staring at the wall. When I touched him, he jerked away from me. I tried to explain that I did not value the watch very much, but he did not listen. He just got dressed and left. That night after dinner, as me and a couple of friends headed back to our respective rooms, I saw Lez driving away from the hostel gate. Quite surprised, I came down the stairs, and the guard told me that he had left something in my room, and had gone up to get it back. For a moment I thought he probably brought a clock for me. With mixed feelings, I hurried towards my room. And there on my table, was nothing that was new. I looked around, and realized, there was nothing new in my room. He did leave behind something. He did not buy an alarm clock for me. … Lez and Laila were doing it. I tried to remain strong through all the gossips. I believed it as we hardly did it ourselves these days. And I was shagging two other guys around on a regular basis. For a moment, it all seemed to be a thing in the past. And then the accident occurred. … When we reached the hospital, Lez was already on the operating table. Laila was unconscious in some other room. As we waited outside the O.T., for the first time, I saw his parents. … For the first few months it hurt. Lez had changed. We were no longer the same together. In fact, we were not even together anymore. Silently, we had parted ways. Though we still met in class, and ever since the accident Lez had been falling back in studies so I had to help him at times with the assignments and other projects, but we were still far apart. Even if by accident our bodies faintly touched the other, we would apologise and shirk away. The heat, the passion, the desire was now dead. … When I rang the door-bell of his house, I thought of all those dreams I had about visiting his house for the very first time, with him by my side. Only today I was, but was alone. Due to some reason, Lez had lost all his data on his laptop, and the final project submission was just around the corner. One frantic phone-call and I was on my way. I didn’t know why, but I just did. Lez’s mother answered the door. As I was led to Lez’s room, I felt a strange sense of uneasiness. Though I had met Mrs. K several times at the hospital, I could feel her staring at me as I walked up the stairs, with her leading me from behind. She gave me a weird smile as I entered Lez’s room. Shirtless, on the bed, was Lez. As she closed the room from behind, Lez got up and walked towards the window. He closed the drapes and walked up towards me. Sometime back, such a move would have turned me on, and though my heart began thumping, I was just puzzled. The room was semi-dark. As Lez locked the door, I walked towards the lap-top. To my surprise, I found it working. As I was about to turn towards Lez, I felt his arms wrapping me from behind. And there we stood, in a tight embrace. Lez had his head on my right shoulder. Slowly he let me go, and then smiled. I was puzzled. That afternoon, Lez and I lied next to each other on his bed. We were both quiet, and Lez just stroked my hair with his fingers, slowly moving it down to my ears, my lobes, and then to my neck. Softly he would finger feel my arms, my nipples, my chest and then gradually move up to my lips. Soft and tender, the brush of his fingers on my cheeks, slowly circling, and then running over the outer contours of my lips, then over my chin, and then lightly over my eyes… for moments I was shuddering in ecstasy. Then, all of a sudden, Lez strong hands grabbed my arms and pulled me on top of him, and then he buried his mouth against mine, and we just stayed there. I almost choked, but I knew this moment would never be back again. Slowly Lez turned me around. And I lay there, on top of him, staring at the ceiling, and feeling his hands running all over my body. Slowly he felt my bulging crotch, unzipped my jeans and pulled my tee out. And then his hands gently squeezed my chest and the sides of my body. We lay like this for some time, and then I rolled over. Lez was quiet. And then he pulled out his dick, and began to jerk off. I did not expect this sudden turn of event, so I tried to touch it, but Lez shoved my hands aside. So I just watched him. Seconds later, Lez sprung up and with his right arm grabbed my head, while his left hand continued to jerk off vigorously. And then he held his dick close to my mouth, and came. I didn’t feel like it, but still opened my mouth to take his load of salt n bitter warm cum. I was no stranger to this, but today I felt like I was. And for the first time I felt dirty. … I was waiting for Lez in his room when his mother knocked and entered the room. She said that Lez would be late and asked if I would join her in the kitchen for a snack. I knew I would any ways be bored, so I agreed. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw Lez’s dad sitting at the edge of the dining table, sipping coffee. I noticed how his eyes ran up and down my body. For a moment I felt embarrassed to have shown up in tight jeans, and I was sure they were certainly displeased. But later, after being served some strawberries, when Mrs. K sat a little too close to me and his father began to dip a peeled banana in a bowl of white yogurt and (suggestively) sucked onto it, that I realized that I should probably leave. I wanted to, but something kept me seated. And then Mrs. K complimented me on my tee, and then my jeans, all the while feeling it with her trembling hands, as if to enjoy the fabric. Her hands on my thigh sent shivers down my spine. I knew cupping. And I stood up. And then there was no more doubt. Lez’s father was looking at my bulge. I thanked them for their hospitality while trying not to look at them directly, but before I could finish, Mrs. K patted my buns, and then rubbed my bulge, and winked suggestively at her husband. I was shocked beyond compare. Lez’s father and Mrs. K both took turns in sucking my cock. Then Mrs. K sat on my hard long uncut dick, while Lez’s father had me suck him deep. And as I tried hard to take them both together, I kept thinking why I was doing it. Before I knew, I was on my back, and getting fucked. Lez’s father came in my ass. Mrs. K. stroked my hair and then left to wash off. … It had become a game. The 50 something, well-established couple with reputed social status had a new boy toy. I had understood that if I didn’t play along, I wouldn’t loose much, only Lez. After the first time, Mrs. K had hissed that she knew about Lez’s other side, and that if I did not give them what they wanted, she would make sure that Lez would never get it either. Though it would have bothered me less, as I could have got other Lez, I didn’t know why I went back every time they called. And then one day, I thought I should stop. As they were busy licking my body, I was staring up at the ceiling, thinking that I have the upper hand against them. If I exposed them, they would be ruined. But I knew that would also destroy Lez. So I looked at them. Lez’s father looked at me while licking my balls, and I motioned him to come closer. And for the first time, killing all my shame and guilt, I kissed him on his mouth for the first time. From that day, I had rimmed them and sucked them, fucked them and got fucked. I even entered into their secret society of couples engaging into groups and sodomy. I was good, I knew, as I began to please more and more of them. And every time I went to Lez, I thought that it was all worth it. Not that I was bowing down to a vague threat I couldn’t have resolved otherwise, but the fact that I kept their parents happy and satisfied, was a reason enough for me. And one day, when Lez looked up at me after a hard fuck, covered in sweat with hairs curled up on his forehead dripping drops of sweat, and smelling of manliness, I smiled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. And he just glanced at me, with my legs still high up in the air; and then he buried his head, exhausted, on my right shoulder. … It began to hurt one day. And I bled. Then I passed out. … I had little recollections of those days. But I remember the frantic faces of my parents. The diagnosis had shocked them. And everyone was talking about it. And they had questions. Everyone had. But I was quiet. … When Lez turned himself to the police, I was still bedridden. The news reached me after a week. It was in the papers. Everyone was shocked at the apparent cold blooded murder. Though the attorneys began digging out dirt from all sides, even hinting at sexual abuse, little seemed favourable for Lez. A cold friend of mine told me that Lez was quiet throughout the entire ordeal. And that he has pleaded guilty. … My mother sneered at my father when he read out the verdict from the papers. I could overhear their discussion from my room. For a moment I thought my mother’s hatred was due to the obvious fact, but upon careful listening I understood that it was not because of a son butchering his parents after raping them, but because of confessing lewd sexual molestation and abuses by threat and force upon her ailing son, causing him to suffer from an incurable anal cavity disorder. It had not been the son’s fault for engaging in sodomy, for it was he who had done it to him, even with the help of drugs on occasions. The son was thus pure and a victim in the eyes of the world. And the accused was damned for straying from the right side of the world.
