The Black Mamba (Part 2)

I was among six other guys on the stretching floor waiting for the curtains to go up. Is it going to be a one-on-one game or a team sport? Every time the mamba pressed the like button on my profile I felt a drop in my pulse and experienced a new zone of excitement. On the one side, I was not willing to settle down until I got to see the face of the mamba, and on the other side, I was questioning my ability to charm this footlong creature. 

Since there were a few others in the room, I couldn't start a conversation. Finally, under the pretext of wearing my shoes, I got closer to the magician and his mamba. At an opportune moment, the suppressed mamba made a heroic appearance rising to the occasion and displaying its vigor and valor. It was not a hissing angry mamba, but a playful and joyous one waiting to be picked and caressed.

Bereft of words, I decided confirm his interest by flashing my mamba, which in comparison stood like a malnourished dwarf. Scared by its size and undecided whether to play with it or not, I left for the locker room to pick up my bag. The magician holding the tail of the mamba covering its fully aroused head followed me to the locker room. Not wanting to compete, converse or confront, I hurriedly came out of the gym, while my mind and legs was entangled in the beauty and beastliness of the mamba refusing to take the next step forward to my home. 

With our mambas taking a liking for each other, we had no choice, but to follow their desires and escort them to my house. He spent the next five minutes in my toilet getting ready for the show(off). 

On the way home, while discussing the likes of our mambas got excited. And his mamba longer than his shorts visually stimulated the passerby. I felt embarrassed to walk besides him and escort home the wild creature. Who will not get visually stimulated watching a foot long phallus longer than his work out shorts wiggling and squiggling in joy?   

It is true that tops can bottom when they see a more macho top. This is not considered as a sign of weakness or surrender, but a gesture in adoration, respect and pleasure. I sat on the floor like a whore charming the mammoth mamba with my hands, lips and tongue. Since I had not handled such a big one in 25 years of my lip service, it was daunting to begin with. 

I licked the him from the tail to head and finally popped his head inside my mouth. I was only able to fit his head in my mouth and rest of his body stood tall shinning in my dripping saliva that glistened against the evening sun on my living room couch. He stood erect accepting my lip service and collapsed in shyness when I rolled back his skin to enjoy the beauty of his head. This game of displaying power and conquering continued for next twenty minutes. And what soon followed was a mutual power play welcoming my 39 in 69! 

Unable to bear my tease the mamba commanded the magician overpower me and return the favor. We wrestled on the small couch, while blowing off each other's mamba with touch, love and care. 

I nudged mamba's smooth nuts with my nose and enjoyed the delicacy with my tongue. I took the tongue to bottom of mamba's pit and excited him with a few rounds of rimming. I fingered mamba's pit slowly with left index finger. The mamba and his pit was completely relaxed by now and they let me use two fingers now. Soon I overturned the mamba and let my little one take refuge in his pit. 

The finale was a visual spectacle. Magician's right hand played with the mamba, while the left became a cushion to my head. The mamba rose in excitement and commanded the magician pin me down. Between his legs, I helplessly watched the viswaroopa, which was both scary and entertaining. Mamba's hormones made him sway back and forth and when the magician hissed and cried in excitement I realized that he was also possessed by the mamba. From the above came a command and I opened my mouth and accepted the hot, white mamba juice with reverence. 

While the black magician washed up, the mamba coiled up for some rest before for their next show, I slowly came back to my world. To be honest, I was a little exhausted playing one-on-one with the mamba, though he confessed that he loves playing in group. My facial muscles were stretched and tired and this seemed like the best one in 25 years. Let's hope the best is yet to come. I felt proud with his visit and also acquiring a new skill: taming the beastly mamba and ready to take on more heads with joy and confidence. So, go and get your black mamba certification, if you are a novice.

The Black Mamba (Part 1)

When the undershirt is longer than the shirt, we figuratively refer to it as Sunday being longer than Monday. I had no clue what else was going to be longer when I stepped into the gym on Saturday. Since I went an hour later than my regular work time, I was certain to miss some known faces and also expected a longer hour waiting to get on treadmills and machines. But sometimes we forget to understand a delay could also mean that luck is working in our favor and bringing the unexpected. 

To motivate and push my fitness level a notch up, I usually find a machine next to or across from a good looking and/or in-shape man. And today, to my surprise I found half a dozen empty machines, unfortunately they were all out of service, and I had to settle down for a machine next to a woman. Nevertheless, sometimes you don't realize that you can also draw inspiration when you find out that you are being a motivation for a few others around you. 

On social media it is direct and easy to hit the like button, but in a gym with overflowing adrenalin and testosterone one has to be careful and discreet. Our mind and body has devised ways to speak the unspoken language and to convey our sexual interests. For ex: repeated visual assaults in the name glancing, letting our hands nudge sleeping crotches or starring at them like a kid in a candy store, flashing a friendly smile, putting out tongues and wetting the outer lip are ways to show our interest and inclination.

During the 30 mins cardio, my mind was busy playing inky pinky ponky trying to choose between legs and laterals for today's work out. I quickly settled down for legs since there were a few good possibilities lurking in the vicinity. Choices in life come to a quick-end when good looking men are around. Since it was the weekend, I was in no hurry and didn't worry about finishing my work out within 75mins. Stretching it longer is one way of prolonging pleasure and there is nothing like working on legs and stretching the in between.

Though a few possibilities kept starring back at me, I didn't want to game to selection to end fast and pushed my luck to the stretching floor. Everyday the deer has to run faster than its fastest running predator to survive. While I was entering the gym that morning I had spotted a white athletic male in upper thirties and I saw him now on the stretching floor working out with a black man who had a fabulous body with almost zero percent fat.

Lying across from them, I was working on my lower abs and displayed a few yoga posture to entice the Caucasian male who seemed elusive. Not sure why I have never cultivated a taste for black cocks in my 25 years of sexual jubilation though I have heard footlong stories about them. Was it because I was scared of approaching them or afraid they might be carrying bugs? Lack of interest and experience with kept my focus on the white male. Realizing my indifference and lack of interest the black male started to cast his magical spell on me. 

As he stood up to have his arms stretched, I noticed something between his legs making a shy appearance. How can anyone ignore a footlong black mamba longer than his shorts wiggling and waiting to set itself free? When I looked around everyone's eyes (men and women) in the room were riveted on one object/subject of pleasure and excitement and was stay put trying to catch a glimpse of it without being noticed. Even the straight ones were caught in a dilemma trying to decide on their sexuality. That is the power of black magic! Come back next week to read details of taming the hissing black mamba!

Forgiveness Without Confession?

Forgiveness is last act in the process of realizing and owning up a mistake or a crime and sincerely seeking atonement. And it is purely the volition of the other party to offer clemency or punish. 

I met someone from my past yesterday and neither of us expected to come face-to-face with each other. Not sure if he remembers the incident and considers what he did to me at age of 3 as a heinous crime. My memory travels back to 1978. I remember him as a athletic, tall, dark and my mother had engaged him as a male nanny to take care of me and my two siblings.

I was a helpless three year old infant then and I remember only one instance of violation. He took me to the terrace and shoved his dark, uncut, and big phallus into my mouth. I had no clue what was being done to me until a few years ago, when I read articles in newspapers talking about adults entrusted with responsibility to care and protect violating innocence of children - child sexual abuse. 

At the age of five we all moved from country side to the city to start our schooling and my mother brought him along with us and got him a job in the city. Don't know why we never saw him and why he never came up in our conversations; but now life (read as karma) was doing a full circle reminding us of the incident and bringing us face-to-face. 

We had a prayer gathering yesterday morning and a group of men and women had come home to do the chants. One of the men in the group wanted to know more about our ancestry and while I was sharing the details, a woman in the group was keenly making a note what I said. Half hour after lunch she came back with her husband who introduced himself as the nanny who looked after us 35 years ago.

I never expected to see him again in my life because there was nothing to be resolved at my end. Was it his wife's prayer that got him to my place or was it his karma from the past that was pushing him towards resolving and absolving it? Is it his pay day?

He stormed into the house with excitement and called out our names to validate if it is the same family. Not sure if he was expecting us to come running towards him, but I lowered the newspaper, looked at him with a surprise and acknowledged his call. He introduced himself and reminded me about his nanny role, while I recollected what he did to me.

I quickly compared him now and then; his physical appearance had changed so much over three decades, but the skin color was still unchanged. Now, he wore a spectacle, colored his grey hair black and also sported a big tummy. May be after effects of marriage, responsibility of educating two girls and driving around a city bus and caring for passengers in it and for people on the road? How about including guilt from abusing me as a child? 

Refusing to sit besides me, he reminiscenced my childhood days and pranks standing a feet away from me. I was not expecting him narrate "that incident" but he kept asking why I was not married and not taking the genetic legacy forward. Had I got an opportunity to speak to him in private, I would have told him I am gay (without blaming him for it) and definitely would have reminded him of the incident and asked him for an explanation for his behavior then. I would have also asked him if he was a serial offender or was it just me?

Fortunately, unlike many other child abuse victims who carry anger, a sense of violation, low self esteem, and a deep scar, I had no trace of any such emotions in me except graphical memories of the incident in black and white. I understand that homosexuality is genetically imprinted and not a result of child abuse, and I don't blame him for my sexuality/single hood. 

Did he walk into my house to confess, express his remorse and seek forgiveness? No! Though karma was giving him an opportunity to confess, seek forgiveness and get rid of his guilt, he had not reached the point yet. Let's not forget that one's own conscience has the power to conduct a fair trial, judge and punish the sinned soul. 

Though I would like to volunteer when it comes forgiveness, I had done that to both my ex's in the past; I didn't notice any signs of regret, guilt, or intention to seek forgiveness in the 55 year old man. Also the 3 year old in me is not willing to offer forgiveness, without a confession! For now, the judgement is adjourned...

Love bite: Physical or emotional?

Finding love is like getting a seat on the metro. And to find a seat you have to board the metro early enough or someone's journey has to end and you must be next to that person to take their vacated seat. No one can deny that love is both a game of chance and game of survival. It is a game of beginning and end with some overlapping travel time. Yes, one waits ahead of the other in atleast one leg of the journey. But everyone's journey comes to an end!

I experienced lust before love, to be mathematically precise (lag variable) there was a 15 year delay between them. Hope I'm not making it sound like a drought. After two relationships, when I question the very existence of love, it makes a cameo appearance and reminds me of its existence. Not sure if I classified it rightly, but I kept asking myself is it love or love bite? Isn't it human nature to analyze, assay, and seek proofs and validations?

It was definitely not a typical morning after feeling. I slowly and silently get out of bed ahead of him, brush my teeth and close the kitchen door and busy making coffee and packing my lunch. He must have entered while my back was facing the door and the turntable in the microwave was busy heating a mug of milk and the motor was humming. What he did was almost like a scene out of a movie. 

From the behind he wrapped his arms around me and the warm air from his lungs invaded my neck and not wasting the opportunity I quickly kept the lunch box and grabbed his hand and planted a beautiful kiss on his hands. Like a breakfast pan cake, I flipped him around and spotted his hot sausage making a morning salut. I kissed him on his cheeks and I pushed him towards the bathroom to brush his teeth, while I showed him the hot mug of coffee.

"I wanted to watch you and spend time with you" responded the 24 year old when I asked him why he got out of the bed so early. I felt his response endearing and my hand with the mug of coffee began to tremble upon hearing the unexpected response. I asked myself, " what did I do this man and is he smitten?"

I have brought home a few Parisian, and only 2 of them have stayed back for the night. This is the third time he came home and the first time he stayed over. But on his second visit he told me that he would like to sleep besides me for a night. Not having slept next to a man in the last three years, I was not sure of the experience, but he was persistent. And that night he smothered me with kisses and warmed me with hugs. And during our coffee and conversation the next morning he even apologized for disturbing me the previous night with his kisses and hugs. I confessed to him that I was getting used to a man next to me in bed and that he needn't be sorry and I perfectly enjoyed being the recipient. 

I have made him dinner on all three occasions and as my friend says it is my "fuck and feed" philosophy. But don't many of us feel hungry after sex? While cooking that night I asked him what excuse did he come up with to spend the night away from home. He smiled and said it was the clichéd friend's birthday. 

After dinner we didn't have fight over the TV remote, while he was watching French television in the living room, I was watching an episode of Indian sitcom on my iPad. He must be after half hour, he came into the room to check on me. Seeing me curled up in the bed, he planted a kiss on my cheek and found a comfortable spot for him in my blanket. Should I call him an intruder or a house cat? 

Though I have been mostly attracted to older men (for reasons of emotional maturity and experience), my two earlier exs' were younger than me. And this young man exhibited maturity and care in our conversation and intimate moments. Never did he utter the word love, but had his on way of expressing himself that made me ask - is this love? Is he in love?

And when I opened the closet to pick out the shirt, he sat up in the bed, his pupils dilated and he confessed his fetish for men in formals. He picked up his mobile and took a few pictures while I was dressing up. How could I go to work with so much of love in air? 

I sat on the bed besides him and planted a few more kisses and even check out the love bite I gave him the previous evening. I asked him to get back into the bed and sleep for a little longer. 

That evening I came home to an empty apartment and something was missing in the air. Not sure what it is, I opened the windows and I went straight into the bed room. I lay down on the bed he had made and picked up blanket and pillow to get a whiff of him. Something that was there last evening was missing now. With memories stirring up my thoughts, I texted to check on him. He immediately responded saying that said he was back home and that his mother spotted the love bite on his neck and curious to know more about it, but he remained elusive. And I promptly apologized for the embarrassment, but said he was proud to sport a love bite.

Ten years after my first love, I realized how people could come over for an evening and leave you with an emotional love bite that may never physically manifest, while I had expressed my love physically through a bite, his love came through as an emotional bit. Love, bites....

Infidelity: a level playing field? (Part 2)

The hairy chest on the Lebanese and the ribbed abs on the Spanish spiced up my hormones that night. I took turns to hold their soft butts and circled their hard nipples with the tip of my tongue and periodically nibbled on them to give them extra pleasure. While I was busy playing with one, the other rolled his tongue behind my neck and before I realized he took a free-fall and went down my ass and trying to cultivate some sensory nerves there. Their cleanliness and safe play rules made me reciprocate their gestures without any inhibition.

Accommodative, not avarice!

Their mouth were as wide as their views and perspectives on life and they often disproved the popular saying “don’t put more than what you can chew”. Not sure if it is a biological bonus (like the sixth finger) or an acquired skill, but their mouths were able to double-time without tiring their jaw bones or lips losing their elasticity. May be this is the next step in evolution from Homo erectus to Homo sapiens.

And after a few tries, I picked up the skill and realized how one needed to be accommodative and not avarice to taste multiple (like sweet and sour, salt and pepper), dry and wet, shapes and sizes (Laurel and Hardy) in one go.

This couple seemed to be very different in a world where selfishness and personal pleasure was the norm. And sometimes they both even demonstrated and taught me a few tricks to save it for my next encounter. From time to time, the Lebanese partner would nudge and direct me to do things that would pleasure his partner.

G-spot!

After having carefully loved each other’s lips, necks, ear lobes, armpits, torsos, feet, and phalluses, the finale was awaited with both pleasure and curiosity. And the bedside table had all the safety gear needed for the finale. And when I confirmed that I only topped, the ceremonial suit was put around my dick, saliva smeared (victory teeka) on it and slowly launched from a comfortable position to explore his g-spot. Words of pleasure and celebration blossomed on his lips and to keep it wet and busy his partner shoved his phallus into his mouth. We even changed places on the see-saw to experience each other’s the greener pastures. It must have been a visual treat to watch the penetration and trickling sweat on our bodies and an aural treat to hear the noise created (flesh, sweat and vacuum) from my quadriceps pounding his gluteus maximus. My mind tried to capture as much as it could and excited by the visual and aural treat, the other partner lubed his finger in my mouth and stuck it in my ass and started to stimulate my prostrate. This was the first time I ever let someone stimulate my prostrate and I must tell you that I experienced the Zero-gravity and lost control over my lower limbs. The Spanish guy with the big asset bottomed for me and the Lebanese partner with an average one, ensured it was a level ploughing field, and bottomed for his Spanish partner.

Tapas and Hummus

That night I felt like I was on the Mediterranean Sea between Spain and Lebanon tasting Tapas and Hummus. I was still hard after I climaxed and what kept my dick up was the hot action between the couple. Like a curious scientist, I brought a candle inside the dark room and I saw the one of the couple holding his legs up in the air and other penetrating him while sitting on his knees. It was like watching a lion and tiger mate with passion, ferocity and I put the candle aside and played my part my lending my dick to keep the lion from growling.

Soon after the sex, the three of us got into a shower and continued to wash each other and bond further. Sitting naked on their couch, we three exchanged some pleasant conversation and hook up stories. Believe it or not, I drank 3 liters of water that night and fell asleep in minutes after hitting the bed.

Stop reading now!

By playing with them that night, I learnt how infidelity ceases to exist when it is all inclusive and together and the real meaning of the phrase “a level playing field”. If you are single, find a couple and make your own experience and if you are couple play together, kill guilt, explore newer meanings to your relationship, and master the art of keeping of fresh, healthy and evergreen. But always remember to play safe.