Sapna enjoying three some in Delhi Hotel
I take this slowly, at first; as I know that even if he’s familiar with the idea, he isn’t yet comfortable with it. I would have liked to break the ice with a few videos, but circumstances didn’t permit. I settle for some Kahlua and hardcopy of some erotica I’d written (not actually with him in mind, but recent circumstances had encouraged a tend towards genericity…).
The apartment is warm; not too hot, but as it’s freezing outside, it’s a welcome contrast. Cosy.
I wouldn’t have taken it this far, except that he’d confessed (to our mutual friend) that he’d wondered what it would be like, to have me up to his ass (although, at the moment, that isn’t what I have in mind…).
I suspected that he was trying to impress her… I guess I’m about to find out….and, no matter how I look at this, strategically, there’s going to be one point where I make a move that he’s going to regard as `the turning point’. I may be regarding this too analytically… still, supposing that I’m right, I then decide to make that first move a bold one, as a sort of `I’m serious here!’ gesture; I move closer to him, practically sitting in his lap, and place my hands between his legs. Our eyes meet; we stare at each other, unblinking, for perhaps ten seconds; I sense that, maybe, he’s going to withdraw, so I move my hand against his crotch, sort of cupping it around his balls (which I can feel through the material of his jeans) and put my arm around his shoulders. Well!
He doesn’t run screaming from the room… on the contrary, he closes his eyes and sinks back into the couch… and, yes, I believe he has the start of an erection.
Which is a relief, as I don’t think I could go any further if he didn’t.
I press myself against him, my head resting on the front of his shoulder; I move my hand again, the palm against his stomach, my fingers pressing into the bulge of his erection, moving it slowly from side to side.
She enters, dressed in her usual jeans and Pink Floyd T-shirt. I pause to admire the way the psychedelic design curves around her breasts, aware that my companion is doing the same thing. She sits down on the couch next to him, puts her arms around his shoulders (over mine) and kisses him. He rises to the occasion (so to speak ), pressing his mouth eagerly to hers, and yet he doesn’t appear to have forgotten me, as he moves his crotch forward, pressing against my hand. We sit there, the three of us, slowly shifting back and forth until it proves too much for him and he tries to push her away. She makes that snarling sound which I’ve always translated as `Oh, no you don’t – *I* make the rules around here!’ and shoves him over sideways so that he’s forced over the arm of the chair with her practically lying on top of him, mouths still joined in a kiss. I scoot around to his front and position myself between his legs, thinking that she’s a tactical genius. He’s still pushing back as I press harder against the front of his jeans… he moans quietly as the heel of my hand rubs the base of his penis, and suddenly he’s trying to undo his jeans with his one free hand. I help him, unzipping the fly and tugging at his denim as he lifts his hips (as much as he can with her holding him down). His erection had almost escaped the narrow confines of his underpants, so I help it, tugging the waistband down … I’m impressed! Either the head isn’t noticeably wider than the shaft, or that it’s unusually thick (well, noticeably larger than mine…: -\). I carefully take it in my hand, squeezing gently, feeling its warmth as it swells even larger. This is getting a tad intimidating… as she pushes him further back over the arm of the chair in what must be a rather uncomfortable position, his groin is thrust out towards me. I can’t resist the temptation to touch the end of his penis with my tongue; holding it steady with one hand (my fingers barely wrap all the way around), I slowly, tentatively lick the underside of the head, my tongue traveling around the end, eventually arriving at the tip. I taste the faint salt tang of the droplet of clear fluid that my tongue encounters there; it sets off something inside me, and I have to restrain myself. I want to be close to him, closer than just hugging him; I want him inside me. Yes. This is something that I envy my female companion. She’s experienced this; I’d seen her tease him for hours on end, bringing him closer to the edge and then withholding herself from him, pushing him until he’d grown impatient with her games and had taken her, brutally, as I wished he’d been able to take me. I think of her, pressed underneath him, both her hands held above her in one of his, her head thrown back in sensuous ecstasy, his hips forcing her legs apart, his other hand darting below to stroke her, to hold her open. I couldn’t help but feel jealous. Simultaneously, I’d wanted to be him, and I’d wanted to be her.
I wanted to be below him, to feel his weight pressing me back into the bed… to tense my muscles against his, to feel his hot breath against my neck, but, yes, I wanted to be held down and fucked by him. I wanted to feel his cock slide into me, feel the head pressing apart lips I’d never possessed and had only vaguely dreamed of possessing. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and feel him fucking me, slamming into me, his hips against mine. Shaking my head, I return to the task at hand – I manage to suppress the fact that this is the first time I’ve even touched another guy’s erection (thinking, if I’m going to be a cocksucker, I’ll be a good one!) as my tongue makes a few more circuits, my lips touching him, my head making slight forward- and backward motions as I combine slow hand-massage and kissing. My lips settle around the end of the head, and I tease the underside again with my tongue. I gather from the sounds he’s making, slightly muffled by our mutual friend’s attention, that he doesn’t object to what I’m doing. I’d formed a vague sort of list of things to remember; try to keep my teeth out of the way, things that turned me on when she was doing this for me. It all vanished in the face of this, this object – his erection – it was getting bigger as I applied suction to the head. I closed my eyes and, for a moment, I submerged myself in the feeling of complete submission, a sense of being reduced to nothing except that which gives him pleasure.
I had no idea as to what to do next; he solved this problem (or, perhaps, our mutual friend’s attentions compelled him) by thrusting forward. The motion was slight, a matter of a few inches, but it forced the trunk of his erection past my lips, the head pushing my tongue flat against the bottom of my mouth. The section just behind the head is now -much- wider than before, and I’m glad I’d taken a deep breath just before he pushed. Coordination! I squeeze as hard as I can with my lips and slide back, trapping the head and sucking; with the fingers of my right hand encircling the base, I can feel the blood rushing into him as I suck. With thumb and forefinger, I tighten my grip gently and draw upwards as my lips move down again. Prepared, this time, I manage to comfortably encompass the first three inches (my best guess), my lips sealed tight around the middle, my tongue tracing the bulging, pulsing veins, flicking over the channel that runs along the underside, pressing the head against the roof of my mouth.
After experimenting with a few different motions, I settle on a combination of squeezing the base, my hand moving slowly up and down, with my lips moving over the end, my saliva lubricating the head (which has grown to the size of a large egg), quickly sweeping down, taking in as much as I can before fastening my lips and slowly drawing back. From the sounds he’s making, I can tell this is going to work.
My other hand pushes his underpants back further and I reach down to hesitantly touch his scrotum. In the warmth of the room (and, most likely due to the ministrations of our mutual friend and, of course, my performance!) his balls move loosely within their skin. The tips of my fingers trace their outline, divide them, gently squeeze them; while my hand- and mouth-motions continue (increasing only slightly in pace), I ever-so-carefully encircle the scrotum with my other hand, his balls held firmly in my grip. I tug downward; he moans and bucks his hips with renewed enthusiasm. The edges of my mouth, straining around the wrist-sized circumference of his cock, twitch momentarily in a smile. Holding his balls in my left hand, I extend my index finger and press the tip into his perineum. This is where his penis joins his body; I can feel its base, and (this is quite a complicated maneuver, in retrospect) I’m sucking on the head, massaging the middle and rubbing the base, all just enough out of synchronization so that he doesn’t feel obliged to come.
I can’t tell what our mutual friend is doing, but she must have done something; he arches his back and lets out a muffled groan. I draw back with his motion, then I shove my head forward, my lips meeting my hand as I take (I’m guessing again, but at least) five inches of his cock in my mouth. I relinquish my grip on his scrotum, both hands joined the base of his penis, pressing together and pushing; moving my head from side to side with a sinuous motion, I work my lips even further down, the head pushing towards the opening of my throat (my gag reflex was there, but not so insistent that I couldn’t ignore it), the sides rubbing against my teeth despite my jaw being open as far as possible, my lips closing eagerly around the exposed section of the base above my hands. I close my eyes and suck, my tongue flattened along the underside, the insides of my cheeks pressing in against him, feeling him swell even larger than before; then, I move my thumbs underneath his balls and press them into his perineum as hard as I can. His cries are muffled, but his reaction is immediate; his hips buck involuntarily, his cock jerks within my mouth, and he comes. In a moment of serene detachment, I can feel the hot fluid coursing down the channel; carefully, I open my jaws just a bit wider, clamp down harder with my lips and, ignoring the rapidly growing collection of semen at the back of my mouth, slowly, sensuously, draw my head back, my lips caressing each contour, each raised ridge, and vein along the way, the bulge behind the head squeezing its way out, the clearly-defined edges of the head trapped behind my lips. I can taste him now; slightly bitter, salty, and hot. My hands press into him and surprisingly, he jerks and come again, a drawn-out, straining climax that floods my mouth with warmth. I drink it all down, my tongue massaging the head, darting out of my mouth to lick the underside again. I encircle the base of his penis with my right hand and slowly, carefully milk the last drops from him. He’s slumped back in the chair after his second climax, our mutual friend kissing and licking the sweat from his face. I glance up at her and she winks back at me. The end of his penis, still rigidly erect, slips from between my lips and I bury my nose in the wiry pubic hair, nuzzling him, relishing his scent, his warmth. I feel his erection pulse against my cheek, and I smile. I think he’s probably ready for some more…