Interracial Gay sex with an South Indian
Interracial Gay sex story of a manservant from South India whose dick and balls were even darker than the rest of his body and looked delicious
It was very exiting, my company had a major development in India and they wanted me to go there to oversee an overhaul of procedures. I would spend the time stripping the company to basics then rebuilding it, a great opportunity at any time, but the chance to visit India at the same time was the icing on the cake. I had one month to prepare, buying lightweight suits, cotton shirts and underwear and getting the necessary medical attention before I flew out on what I considered the greatest opportunity and most wonderful adventure of my thirty four years.
On arrival I was met by a chauffeur, a very handsome Indian called Kishan; he was from Southern India and had skin of that beautiful burnished copper colour, large black eyes and a beautiful friendly smile.
He drove me to company headquarters where I met the managing director who showed me around and made introductions before we made arrangements for me to start work the next day. The M. D. explained that Kishan would drive me to a house that was owned by the company where I would stay during my time in India and that he would be at my disposal during my stay as driver and manservant. I had never had a manservant before,or any other kind of servant for that matter, but Kishan seemed a good choice.
On the way to my house, on the outskirts of the city, we chatted as Kishan pointed out various landmarks. Firstly he told me that he was known as Krish, which I found much simpler, but I was getting a little embarrassed by him constantly calling me ‘Sir’. I was called sir at work by my staff but somehow being called it by a servant smacked too much of servitude to me, and finally I said “Krish, My name is Bill Meadows, if we are to be in each other’s company for the next few months I would prefer you to call me Bill, and if you can’t do that, please call me Mister Meadows”. “Yes, Sir”, he replied. Oh well, we could work on it. When we got to the house he showed me around a beautiful building with a courtyard. It consisted of a two storey house with a large garage on one side and storage rooms, formerly stables on the other: the fourth side of the courtyard was closed off by a high wall and two gates.
My accommodation was in the upper storey and consisted of a beautiful sitting room, a dining room and three bedrooms, a large bathroom with an extra toilet/shower room en suite to the master bedroom. Krish explained that the kitchen and his quarters were in the ground floor. I poured a drink from a well stocked cabinet and offered Krish one but he looked quite embarrassed so I quickly apologized, assuming I had offended his religious beliefs. “Oh, no, Sir, Mr Meadows, Sir, I am a Hindu and allowed to drink, but it is not proper for me to drink with you”. “I see”, I said, “But I wish to talk to you, to discuss your duties, and I would like to sit and have a drink while I do so and I would feel more comfortable if you would sit and have a drink with me while we talk”.
He agreed to have a beer and told me a little of his history, including that he had worked in Britain for 2 years in his uncle’s restaurant before returning to India to get married. I asked if his wife was with him, would she be staying downstairs, but he explained that his wife was at their home in the country looking after the small piece of land he had bought, and he was working in the city where he had family earning extra money and sending most of it home. I asked him how much he earned for doing this and when he proudly told me I was astonished and ashamed. It was less than a pittance. I was living in his country, my salary was going into my bank account at home and I was living rent free with an eating allowance, a laundry allowance, a travel allowance, an entertainment allowance, each of which was larger than his total salary, plus I was promised a hefty bonus when the job was completed. Sitting back and allowing him to take care of me was going to be even harder to do without a guilty conscience. His duties were agreed, as well as keeping the house and the garden in order he would provide tea in the morning then drive me to the office, collect me in the evening then chauffeur me to any restaurant or function I would be attending in the evening.
Due to jet-lag I was feeling tired so I went to bed early and, thanks to first class air conditioning, slept like a baby. I awoke early with the usual raging hard-on, something I was going to have to live with for the next few months. I wasn’t too sure of where a gay man would satisfy his needs in this country, only that it is still illegal, and I couldn’t risk any hint of scandal. I wandered to the window and was pleasantly shocked to see Krish standing in the courtyard in a pair of cotton shorts washing himself from a basin. God, he was magnificent. His wet skin gleamed in the morning sun showing a body covered in silky black hair. Automatically I grabbed my erection and squeezed, it was enough to make me shoot a load across the floor. Quickly I grabbed some tissues and wiped the tiles and went to the shower room for my wash, but as I lathered myself I thought of Krish standing below washing himself and I got so hard I had to take the time to finish myself off a second time. By the time Krish brought my morning tea I was dressed and ready.
Work went as expected that first day, exhausting and hot. So much so that when Krish picked me up after 7 o’clock I was worn out. The managing director had invited me to his home for dinner that evening but I had managed to refuse without offending, accepting instead an invitation for the next week. On the way home I had Krish keep the windows closed and the air conditioning on at maximum. I had already decided not to go for dinner, feeling it was too hot to eat, but when I got inside the courtyard I smelled the most delicious Indian food and my mouth watered.
As I climbed to the veranda to enter my apartment Krish asked me what time I wanted to go out, but I told him I would be in all evening. I showered and changed into loose cotton trousers and a tee shirt and settled to watch TV; full satellite facilities were provided so I had plenty to choose from. About 15 minutes later Krish knocked on my living room door and came in with a small bowl of meat and rice. “I had some left after I made my dinner and I wondered if you would care to eat” he said. It was delicious and afterwards I asked Krish about his cooking skills. Apparently he had learned from his Uncle when he worked in the restaurant. I had a quick idea; I offered him extra money if he would prepare an evening meal for me most nights to prevent me having to sit in a restaurant on my own. I offered him what was, in fact my eating allowance but it more than doubled his salary. He got quite emotional and put his arms around me and hugged me in gratitude and I felt the heat of his body through our thin clothing. I quickly pulled
back and he was quite embarrassed, apologizing profusely. I assured him that it was OK and invited him to have a beer with me.
The next morning I looked out of my window and there he was again, standing on the flagstones washing his semi naked body. I held my dick as he lathered himself all over, putting his soapy hands inside his shorts and rubbing his genitals with one hand while sliding the other up and down the crack of his arse. Without any great effort I fired off a load into my hand just watching him. Fuck, he was so sexy.
That evening I was picked up as usual and taken home and by the time I had showered my meal was set on the dining room table. I opened a bottle of wine and when Krish came to collect the dishes I invited him to sit with me and watch TV. As we looked for something worth watching I flicked through various channels, including the many satellite channels available to me. A sudden thought came to me and I switched on a European sex channel showing straight soft porn. I left it for a minute or so and made a joke about it but Krish was riveted. He was wearing a long white cotton robe and I could see it tent as he watched. While the film did nothing for me, the sight of his hard-on was definitely getting me exited. Eventually Krish noticed me watching and reddened in embarrassment, but I just smiled over at him as I groped myself. “If you are too shy to watch with me I will leave you to watch alone”, I offered. “No, no, Mr Meadows, it is all right, I just got carried away”, he said. “In that case, if you feel you need to give yourself relief, go ahead, I won’t mind”. He looked at the screen then back at me, continuing to fondle himself through the fine cotton material. I had to encourage him so I opened my zip and pulled my dick out and started to stroke, looking at the screen but watching his movements out of the corner of my eye.
Finally he hitched up his robe and I saw his naked thighs for the first time. They were muscular, taut and covered in that beautiful black hair. Rising from them was a 5″ dick, uncut and extremely thick. His dick and balls were even darker than the rest of his body and looked delicious. He concentrated on watching the film as he slowly pulled on his meat until I saw his back arch and I gripped my own to slow myself down. I watched as he spurted glob after glob of thick white cum onto his chest, you know, the sort that looks like whipped cream and lies where it lands, never runny or milky. I let go and blew my own load in rhythm with him.
His shy grin was almost childlike as he said “I haven’t seen my wife for several weeks”. I just grinned.
Any fears that I had that things might be awkward were quickly dispelled next morning. After my now habitual morning jerk off watching him wash himself, he served me tea then drove me to the … ..office and was as chatty as usual, even commenting that he had slept better last night. I wondered why he washed in the courtyard every morning, even considering the possibility that he knew I was watching and it was all a show for my benefit. I soon learned different.
That night Krish ran me home and served dinner. I was considering whether to try the same thing again tonight or give it a few days, better to play it by ear, I decided. When I finished eating I wandered onto the veranda and saw that Krish was busy tidying the flower beds. Rather than disturb him I collected up the dirty dishes and took them downstairs, but when I got there he had disappeared inside. I put the dishes in the kitchen then went round the back to knock on his door and tell him what I had done. He opened the door and invited me in and I couldn’t believe what I saw. He was living in a room 8 feet square with whitewashed walls, an old single bed, a stand of drawers and a wardrobe: no TV, no radio and no air conditioning. When he wasn’t looking after me he was expected to just sit there. He had a few books, but that was all. I told him about the dishes and walked away feeling numb, and not a little like a total shit, it hadn’t occurred to me to inquire what his conditions were like. Half way up the stairs I stopped and turned back. I knocked on his door again and said “Krish, I would like you to come with me”. He followed me upstairs and I took him straight to the small bedroom. “I want you to collect you things from downstairs and move them in here. As long as I am here this will be your bedroom”. He looked almost frightened. “Mr Meadows, sir, if they find out that I am using a bedroom in the apartment I will be sacked”.
I explained carefully that no one in the company, even the managing director had any control over my decisions, because I was senior to them all, but I told him if anyone said anything to tell them that I insisted that he be nearer in case I needed him. He hugged me again and again I felt the heat of his muscular body through his robe. Only later did I realize that by giving him a room with use of a bathroom I had denied myself the pleasure of his morning washes.
Two days later (and still trying to work out some way to see Krish’ dick again) I was aware of a muscular pain in the base of my spine, an old injury from a skiing accident that hadn’t bothered me for ages. I called my doctor in Britain and he made some inquiries, called a specialist in Bangalore and arranged an appointment for me. Based on his diagnosis and the information given to him by my own doctor, the specialist gave me pain killers and a cream to rub on the sore area. When Krish ran me home again I was taking my time climbing the stairs and he asked if there was anything he could do to help. I said no, thanks, but after I showered and tried to rub my back I realized it was more difficult than I had imagined so I called Krish in and asked if he would massage my lower back with the cream and he agreed. Being honest I was in too much pain to have any ulterior motive, I just wanted help.
We went into the second bedroom which had twin single beds and I lay down. Krish removed my towel then arranged it over my buttocks. He spread a little cream on my spine then worked it into my skin like a professional, although he assured me he had never done this before. When I looked back to say something complimentary I noticed he was smiling. “What’s funny?” I asked. “Nothing Mr Meadows, Really”, he said rather shamefaced. “It’s OK, you can tell me, why were you smiling to yourself?” You have no body hair Mr Meadows; it is unusual here to see this. You have skin like a lady”.
By now my back was feeling well enough for me to consider what he had said. “Well”, I said “this skin like a lady is getting very dry and sore with your Indian weather. Would you mind getting that other bottle of lotion called moisturiser from my bathroom and rubbing the rest of my body with it?” “Certainly, sir”, he replied.
He returned from the bathroom and dribbled the lotion down my back and slowly massaged it into my skin, sliding his beautiful meaty hands up over my shoulders then down the spine before separating and running them up my sides. He continued for some time doing this, even moving the towel down about 1 inch in the process, then he moved to the bottom of the bed and massaged my feet before working his way up both legs until he again reached the towel. “Ok Sir?” he asked. “Yes, great, but you missed the bit in the middle”, I replied. When I looked in the mirror between the beds I could see his beautiful dark face attain a reddish tinge, but he removed the towel and began to massage my buttocks. I, of course, couldn’t move, lying there with a bursting hard-on wondering how I was going to explain the large damp path when I finally got up. It was taking me all my time not to raise my arse in rhythm to his strokes. Having gone this far, I decided on one more step towards the cliff edge.
Next step in next part
