I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who’d end up like this.
Through my twenties, I fucked all sorts of women. Body count well into the 40s. I liked them as they were, fit, chubby, skinny, short, tall. Every single one is female. I never once wondered if there was something else I wanted.
Then I moved to Bangalore. Scrolled housing groups, found a two-bedroom flat near HSR. The roommate replied almost instantly. Short messages, dry humour in broken Hinglish. Said he worked night shifts at Wells Fargo, kept weird hours, wouldn’t bother me. Rent was good, so I shifted in six days later.
He was standing in the hall when I dragged the last suitcase through the door. Tiny frame, maybe 5’4″, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Long, straight black hair falling past his collarbones, parted in the middle like a girl’s. Face delicate, high cheekbones, full lips painted soft rose. First time I saw a man with kaajal rimmed eyes that made them look even bigger, long lashes. Looked very feminine. Normal dude clothes. Okay.
Bare feet, toenails glossy maroon. No attempt to look masculine. Just… there, soft and pretty and completely unapologetic.
“Hi,” he said, voice quiet, almost musical. “You’re taller than you looked in the photo.”
He showed me around. Kitchen still warm from whatever he’d cooked earlier. Bathroom with the ancient geyser. My room. His room (door half-open: fairy lights strung like a girl’s hostel, small mirror with lipstick tubes lined up, a half-finished mehendi design sketched on paper). He smelled of jasmine gajra oil and faint sandalwood agarbatti. I told myself it was nothing. Women wore that shit all the time. Maybe he’s gay. No problem for me.
In the first weeks, he dressed normally almost every day at home, but I noticed a few different anomalies every now and then. Sometimes, a simple cotton nightie that fell to mid-thigh when he made morning tea. Sometimes, a saree blouse and petticoat when he was lounging, a dupatta forgotten on the sofa. Sometimes, it’s just oversized women’s T-shirts that slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth collarbone and the faint shadow of a bra strap underneath. Tiny frame, effeminate features, everything about him screamed delicate, breakable. I noticed. Of course I fucking noticed. But I kept telling myself it was just aesthetics. I kept swiping on Tinder and Bumble. Kept dragging women back to my room or theirs. Kept telling myself the dark pulse in my veins when he walked past in a sheer kurti, nipples dark against the fabric, was just annoyance at the invasion of space.
Then, on the night of the date, the date bailed.
She’d sent nudes all evening, promised to meet at a rooftop bar in Indiranagar. I waited an hour, got nothing but read receipts. Came home furious, blood roaring, cock already straining from hours of edging myself in anticipation. He was in the kitchen, wearing a simple oversized t-shirt and booty shorts. short, barely covering the tops of his thighs, thin straps, no bra, no panties. Small, soft cock outlined faintly against his thigh when he turned.
“You look like you want to kill someone.”
“Date ghosted. I’m wired.”
“The way you’ve been going, you may need to slow down, dude. It’s okay. Let’s chill for a while.”
We ended up on the sofa, and he bought out some Gin. Put on YouTube for a beat in the background. His knee pressed mine. Stayed. I was really, really pent up, still raging hard, staring at the way the cloth rode up his thighs, exposing smooth brown skin.
He turned his head slowly. “You’ve been staring at me for a while”
“Haha, no, I just really like how you look. Very feminine, very pretty.”
“So, looking is all you want to do?”
God, what a line. I was genuinely stunned for a moment. Also confused. Did I really want something to happen? He looked so frail, and he has this round ass. I thought for a long moment.
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“Maybe I don’t know.”
He leaned in, “Let’s make it easy for you.” And kissed me. It didn’t feel weird. I kissed him back. What the fuck was I doing?
I pulled him on top of me and grabbed his ass. It was so round and tight. My head was spinning. He took mine and his tops off and kissed me on my chest. I pulled him closer and moved my way down his neck, nape, then his nipples. I was on autopilot. We made out for a minute before he said, “Let’s see what we have here, Daddy.” DADDY! Oh God, he knew just what to say. I slipped out of my shoes and socks and then my jeans. He grabbed my cock and stroked it.
“Oh God, what are we doing. This is insane”
“Tell me what you want, daddy.” There he went again.
“Take me in”
He obliged. Placed his mouth on my cock and started working it. Took the whole thing in and gave me quick strokes. Sucked on my balls. I’d never been a vlowjob guy, but hot damn. Having been hard all this time, I came very quickly. I came all over his pretty face and hair, and he swallowed as much as he could.
The post nut clarity hit. I didn’t feel like I had done something wrong. He kissed me, tongue and all. It was the first time I tasted myself, and again, I didn’t feel weird. Mixed with the fact that I was seeing his tiny frame like that, it got me hard again.
“You want more, Daddy?”
“You bet your fucking ass I do”
“Good. I have waited so long to take you.”
He ran to his room and got some lube.
“I think you know what to do”, and I did. I took the bottle, kissed him, made him hold his mouth open and spat in his mouth. It was pure instinct. I took his underwear off. He had a tiny boner. I bent him over and generously applied the line on my cock and his asshole.
He had such smooth skin. Such a round, soft ass. He had a tiny waxed asshole. This was all so new to me. He didn’t fight. Just arched into it, lips parting on a soft gasp. He whimpered, small hands clutching the couch.
I shoved him down, pinned both wrists behind his back and entered him. He cried out, body jerking.
, pushed back.
“I have waited too long for this”, he whispered.
I entered him. His asshole resisted, then tore open around me. So fucking tight. He screamed into the cushion, muffled, desperate. I didn’t stop. Slammed deeper, inch by brutal inch, until my hips slapped his ass.
“God, yes fuck my ass, daddy.”
I fucked him. Hard.. Skin slapping, sofa creaking, his payals jingling wildly with every impact. It was instinct at this point. I slowed down, kissed his back, gripped his tiny cock, and rubbed it. Seeing him convulse did something to me.
He came first, shaking, crying my name, spilling over my hand in weak spurts. His whole body clenched like a vice. I picked up the pace and went prone bone. I came so hard and so much. It was too much, and I just lay there for a minute. I took my cock out, and while he lay there collapsed, I flipped him, made him first clean his jizz off my hands, and then my cock. I was so confused. But I didn’t feel bad.
“So how was it?”
“So fucking good”
That was then.
From then on, I used him like a flesh light. He showed me his collection of clothes. I dressed him up in all sorts of babydolls, be it a maid or a schoolgirl. Cock traps galore. I actually took him out after we fucked, no underwear and cock trapped, my jizz still in his asshole.
Soon enough, I found someone on Bumble who was interested enough in our threesomes. The details are for another day, but I always made him clean my cum off her thighs and tits.
Haven’t looked back since.
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