Two white dicks and me
Gay Male
Submit Report Hi everyone, it is Aman. I have been a reader on this site lately and wanted to share my first sexual experience, which happened to be interracial. First, let me introduce myself. I am 21 now, and the incident took place two years ago. I’m petite, 5’6″ tall, with a flat chest and belly, wheatish skin, a hairless body (at that time, I had thin strands of hair in my pubic area and just a few in my ass), and a bubble butt. Ever since I was introduced to the concept of sex, I was fascinated with it and had browsed through all kinds of sex, but I couldn’t decide my sexuality. That day, I was home, and I had no willingness for sex, but how did I end up signing up for a threesome with two white, horny guys? It was a summer day when I woke up late on the weekend. My dad is always out for work, and my home consists of my mom, my elder brother, and me. My brother, the stirrer, always looks for some way to provoke my mom against me. Similarly, after a long, nice slumber, I was having brunch at the table when I heard him telling my mom, “He’s barely passed in math, and here he’s having a sound sleep and breakfast. Did he tell you he got his marks yesterday?” My mom rallied towards me with big, round eyes. I had heard him speaking and gulped in the grudge for my brother. “I’ve passed the exam, don’t worry. And I was about to show you the paper today, just after breakfast.” But this didn’t end here. My brother fueled up the heat, “If you were going to show your paper, then why were you hiding it in your bag?” “So, you want to say I should roam about throwing my stuff all around the house?” “Look at his audacity, mom! He’s arguing with me so disrespectfully! It’s because of you.” The conflict heightened with every line, and my mom landed a slap on my face. I went red, not just because of the slap but also the anger I held. I slipped my phone into my pocket, left my plate, and stomped out of the house in a fit of rage, wiping away some tears that had formed in my eyes. I rang up my friend, Shan, who lived nearby, to halt by his place and cry it out, but I was informed that he was out for some family function. Now I had nowhere to go. My other friends lived further away, so I was in my synthetic black tank and boxers, stomping around the streets. My eyebrows were knitted together, and my face was dripping with frustration. The angry stomping made my ass wobble, which I wasn’t noticing. I walked a lot, almost a kilometer, reaching a nearby park in our locality. Food stalls stood there, and I stood nearby, hungry and thirsty, but without a single penny. I had no choice, so I walked into the park and got myself a secluded seat. I was just scrolling through my phone, trying to shove away the thoughts. After a few minutes, I was parched and became uneasy, wanting to walk out of the park and ask for some water somewhere, when I dashed upon these two hunks. They had bleached white skin, tall stature over 6′, athletic bodies, and blue-greyish eyes. “Am sorry,” I said. Our city is not a very popular one, but it’s industrial, so only a few such foreigners could be seen around. “Yo, it’s alright,” one of them said, grabbing my shoulder. I noticed that our attire matched a lot. They too were in tanks and boxers, and they wore caps. I apologized again and started to walk off when the other called out, “Hey, could you please tell us where we could find a rickshaw?” My locality is a residential one with only a handful of public vehicles available, so I knew it. “You can’t get one here. You need to reach the airport road to get one.” “And where’s that?” I showed them the path, but they appeared blank after all the guidance and asked, “Could you guide us? We don’t know much.” I was quite reluctant, as the airport road was quite far, but I also wanted to help them. We started walking, and they introduced themselves as Michael and Joe. Now, let me describe them. Michael appeared to be 30-35, athletic and tall, with tattooed biceps, pierced ears, wearing a maroon tank and grey boxers. His hair was white, and he was clean-shaven, while Joe was muscular but with a bit of a loose body, no tattoos, a black-brown beard, and full black attire. “You could have taken a cab instead,” I said. “Yeah, but he’s kind of claustrophobic,” Joe said. “Kind of claustrophobic? So, how did you travel to India?” I pointed out. “Good question, dear. It was an 8-hour flight, and when we landed here, he had 10 bags of vomit,” Joe joked. It was the first time that day I laughed. Slowly, my anger was subsiding. Soon, we were talking friendly, and amidst our talks, they would place their hands over my shoulder or brush their hands through my back and butt. I ignored it. We were finally reaching the road. I was told they were there for the upcoming football tournament; they weren’t the players but sponsors and friends of the organizers. But honestly, their looks couldn’t make me believe their words. However, I shared today’s instances just to lighten myself up. They paid heed to everything – my words, lips, my body. After some talk, my voice choked as my throat ran out of water. I begged for some water, and Mike handed me his bottle, saying, “That’s one thirsty boy.” “So, we’ve reached there finally,” I said, grabbing my thighs and letting out a sigh, as I was tired after walking. “You’re tired? Hey, why don’t you hang out with us? You’re surely hungry,” Joe asked. Of course, I was, and I also wanted to spend some more time out until I got a call from my brother, begging me to return home. We hopped into a rickshaw, and it halted near their hotel. It was a nice one, and in the reception, they ordered some food and also talked the receptionist into allowing me in. They exchanged some weird smiles, but I was just glad to be in their company.