Indian Gay Sex Story: Misunderstood: 1

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Indian Gay Sex Story: Misunderstood: 1

Indian Gay Sex Story: Chapter 1

Satheesh –

The rain poured outside like cats and dogs. The window was completely soaked and nothing was visible from the inside of the house if you’d stare outside. All you could see were blurred lines like that on a canvas when excess water hit the palate and the paint would smudge, color-to-color. It was cold and my body reacted to it, the same way, every time I felt exposed to the chill.

My smooth chest rose and fell. My nipples were hard and pointy. I walked across the hall and stopped at the mirror that hung in the passageway from the hall to the bedroom. I looked into the reflection and noticed a red dark hicky staring back at me. It appeared angry and loud on the right side of my neck. I rubbed it. My skin burned to its touch and I yanked my fingers back in surprise. I smiled. I could see a few white strands of hair standing out amongst my dark brown fur that covered my head. My dimples deepened as my smile grew. I rubbed the front of my chest and felt the beating of my heart within it. Thump… Thump… Thump… I finally did it. I had made love to the most beautiful girl in all of Mumbai.

I moved towards my room that was towards the left at the end of the passageway. I opened it slowly and found her naked body entwined in the white bedsheets. She slept soundly. All her fears and concerns were forgotten and lost to the world she left behind in sweet slumber. I peered inside and smiled. She was so cute… so calm… so innocent… and so adorable when she slept.

I closed the door behind her and headed towards the bathroom on my right. I had just gotten out of bed to lay the pot of coffee. I was getting ready to leave for work. The storm outside was evident, but you barely get the day off when you’re a renowned chef in a five-star hotel. I opened the towel and dropped it on the cold bathroom floor. I stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the hot water. Millions of droplets of steaming hot water gushed down to greet my naked body. The senses felt awakened. They felt alive like they were rejuvenated from hibernation. The hot water trickled down my body and the heat, the steam and the sense of morning wood gave me the rush of testosterone needed for a morning wank.

The feeling of being aroused was so evident, I could see my nine-inch cock throbbing under the hot water that glistened it in the morning sunlight that greeted me in the bathroom. I grabbed the zest bar and rubbed it over my smooth, athletic body. I did work out in the gym four times a week, but that was usually cardio. In the kitchen, there is way too much of heavy lifting with pots, pans, rice sacks and baskets of meat and vegetables that I really don’t need extra weight training in the gym.

I lathered my entire body and then after soaping myself I placed the bar back on the tray and reached for my cock. I yanked it and felt an instant sensation of pleasure. I jerked it in between my fingers and moved it in an up and down movement. The vibes were so enduring that it made me even harder than I thought it would. I quickened the pace of my jerks. It felt so nice… so good… so complete. To jerk off in the showers was a religious activity I’d do every morning before leaving for work. It was pleasurable and kept me calm most of the times in the kitchen. It was therapeutic for me and so I obliged every single time I was in the baths.

I jerked out five huge loads of cum that spilled on the bathroom walls and on the floor. I washed the lathered soap off me and made sure that I’d spray water from the hand shower on to those areas as to wash the jizz into the bathroom drain. I took a final hot sprinkle of water and rubbed myself all over. I grabbed the towel from the stand beside the glass door on the outside and dried myself off. I wrapped the towel and headed out of the bathroom. My girl was still asleep. I moved to the kitchen and poured myself a mug of hot black coffee. I sipped it. The bitter liquid gushed down the esophagus and electrified my internal feel. “Aaaahhh….” I cooed.

The hot coffee felt healing to my internal organs. I carried the mug with me and headed back to my bedroom. I placed the coffee on the vanity table and moved towards the dresser. I pulled out my jockey boxers, my chef coat, and my chef pants. They were well ironed and placed on the middle shelf in my cabinet. My servant knows well where to keep all my belongings. As a disciplined chef, I take pride in all that I do and chaotic haphazardness was never a part of my regime.

I slipped on the cold boxers and the chef pant. I looped in my belt and buckled it. I spritz the cologne from the transparent Boss Hugo bottle that I grabbed from the dresser. I pulled over the chef coat and buttoned one side before I flapped over the second part of the coat and slipped into my shoes. I jingled the keys from the stand and shoved in the wallet into my back pocket. I grabbed my watch and rolled it around my wrist. I checked the time on the analog dial. It read six forty-five. I do have another hour to get to work. It usually does take me say, fifteen to thirty minutes to reach the hotel, but I’d rather reach early than late. I did a mental recheck of all the things I needed to carry with me before I left. Mobile, check… Keys, check… Wallet, check… Handkerchief, check…

I smiled, opened the main door and greeted the sun outside my apartment that flooded into the passageway. I moved towards the elevator and pressed the “V” signed button. The indicator showed the advancement of the lift. 13… 14… 15… 16… 17… 18. The buzzer chimed and the door mechanically opened itself. The recorder announced, “18th Floor”. I stepped in and pressed the “P1” button. I watched as the steel bodied box sank me to the depts of my destination. 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… G… P1.

The alarm sang once more. “Parking – Level 1”. I walked over to the far left of the parking. I usually love parking my Car towards the end as it’s easier to drive past to the exit. The inner we park our cars, the more of a hassle to exit the building. I’d rather mind the extra few steps towards the vehicle than to struggle to get the god-damn thing out or inside the building. I reached the lot and peered up at the ceiling. It read “1807”. I had purchased the parking at the time of the apartment itself, for an extra five lacs. It was a calculative decision and a wise one too, that is.

I pulled open the red door and sat in the driver’s seat. I dunked my Iphone on to the seat on my right and pulled the door close. I clicked in my seat belt, securing myself and shoved the key in the ignition slot. I twisted it and pressed on the peddle below. The car growled as it started. It was cold downstairs, way chillier than what I felt eighteen floors above sea level. I jerked the gear and shoved it to R. The mobile reversed and I turned the steering wheel clockwise. I pressed on the clutch once again, went to a 1 and started my journey to the hotel. The traffic at seven wasn’t that much of a deal. I gently glided on the roads of Mumbai never getting a chance to go above sixty.

I reached the Taj in twenty minutes. I rolled in the car to the back gate, or how they’d like to call it “The Staff Gate” and swiped my employee card at the entrance. The Security guard at that stand greeted me with a smile and I said “Namaste.” I pulled in the jeep into the basement parking and stopped it just before the main exit. I reached in, grabbed my phone and headed towards the staff elevator. This would take me directly to the main kitchen.

Kushal –

I hate my life. I’ve always been a complete disappointment to my parents and relatives. My father wanted to see me complete my engineering and I loved helping my mother in the kitchen. I was always a quiet and shy child from the start. Being bullied and dominated was a part and parcel of my life. In school and college, I was the one they’d call to rag. The saddest part was that even my teachers’ spirits soared to see me in a pickle. Somehow, I managed to complete three years of graduation and was happy to have mastered the skills with a knife. I was now a Bachelors of Science in Hotel Management from the Dadar Catering Academy.

My dad was in the Indian Army and he often dreamed of having me signed up as an Aeronautical Engineer under his ranks. But in simple words, I was unable to draw a straight line in art class at school, where the hell was I going to complete engineering in any sort of way? I looked outside the Army Quarters. It was raining heavily. I didn\’t know what to do. Was it alright if I skipped my first day at work blaming it on the weather? I wanted to go to work no doubt. I was so excited and couldn’t wait to see what my destiny had in store for me.

I looked at the time on the digital clock placed on my desk. It read five: thirty-seven. Boy, I’ve got to reach work in under two hours. I scratched the back of my head and moved towards my bed.i barely got sleep in the night and prayed that the day goes well. I switched off the lights in my room, a switch that was custom made on the side of my bed. It was a counter switch that triggered the lights from three places in the room – the switchboard at the entrance, a focal point near the writing desk to the far left and the controls at the bedside. I pulled over the quilt when I noticed the bathroom light click off. Someone just used the restroom while I was peering out into the rain.

My doorknob clicked and the door swung open. “Bachaha… I need your help.” My Uncle entered the room. I knew what was going to happen. It was the nastiest of tricks that fate could ever have played on anyone. My father’s youngest brother was a drunk and lost his wife and daughter in a divorce five years ago. He stays with us now. And since he realized I was gay by ransacking one of my porn stash, alone at home one afternoon, it was evident that he could get his way with me through blackmail. He had been assaulting my modesty and its been over four years now. I endure because I don’t want the truth to come out. My father would be devastated if he’d learned that his son was gay. To hide the truth, I keep my emotions to myself, just open my mouth and butt for one thing only.

My Uncle closed the door behind him and headed towards my direction. He pulled out the knot from his jammies and untied them. He dropped the clothing and a huge erected penis stood there in front of me. He smiled feeling so proud of himself, that bastard. He looked at me and asked, “Muh mein lega ke gaand maru teri aaj?”

I felt hot tears well up in my eyes. I rolled out of bed and dropped my shorts. My undies followed behind it and I bent forward placing my hands on the edge of the mattress. My Uncle spread my legs, spat in his hand, rubbed his cock and hard shoved it into my ass, forcefully. I buried my face in the quilt and let out a painful yelp of discomfort. He fucked me a few time and came inside me. He smiled, slapped my butt, pulled up his pajamas and left, grunting like the wild asshole he always was. I struggled to stand, pain and exhaustion surrounding me. I somehow moved towards the bathroom to clean myself up. I made sure I did it super silently. I didn’t want anyone else waking up and finding me in this state of disarray.

I washed myself sitting on the commode and wiped my wet exterior with my towel. I thought that I was to get ready in some time anyway, so taking a bath right now was also insightful. I filled the bucket and with the help of the tumbler, washed my naked body still recovering from the abuse. I cleaned myself up and returned to my room. I pulled up a fresh pair of briefs and shorts. I yanked over a loose tee and silently waited for the sun to rise.

Read the hot and steamy Indian gay sex story of the separate lives of a chef boss and his gay intern colliding into a romantic clash!

I looked out at the window still sulking inside from the recent shock that my body was exposed to. I felt a hot tear escape my eye and thought that my life was over. There was nothing more terrible that could happen to me that hasn’t happened yet. Sadly, I was mistaken. I still had to reach work. This was just the start of all the shit life had to offer me. And the worse part was, I didn’t even see it coming.

To be cont’d..

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