TRUE GAY SEX SHORT STORY: The purple cock and sex interrupted

(NOTE: BASED ON A TRUE STORY INVOLVING ME)

"You start what you finish." -- Anonymous

On one of my trips to a South Asian capital, I met a Maldives friend to smoke pot in a guesthouse room rented by a Sri Lanka friend. (FACT: Maldivians are predominantly Muslim while Sri Lankans are predominantly Buddhist).

Omar wasn't a devote Muslim exactly, as I observed he had shaved his beard and his pants reached his ankles. Believing Muslims sport beards and wear truncated pants that expose their ankles, in reference to some schools of Islamic thought that this has to be so.

Maybe he was only a believing Muslim, not a practicing one. I say this because I have come across faithful Muslims who smoke pot, their excuse been that marijuana doesn't intoxicate anyone out of his senses, and even when you smoke a lot, you are still conscious and aware of what's happening around you.

He came over to my guesthouse and I lay sprawled on the single bed, behind him while he sat on the edge of the bed, and started rolling the joint from the apparatus on a coffee table I had placed next to the bed.

Once completed, I sat up, snuggled next to him, in such close proximity that my shoulders were more or less leaning on his shoulders. I wanted to test the waters like this because he always kept smiling, and honestly to say, I found him attractive - a strange fact because he was not my type, in that he was fair-skinned and a little on the chubby side, my "type" being extremely lean men who are extremely dark-skinned.

May be the pot poisons my mind into MISTAKENLY thinking he was accommodating me even when he knew I was gay but strangely, the feeling persisted in me that he was inexplicably attracted to me because it's not everyday that a Muslim can tolerate homosexual men like me. So, that's why the strange idea occurred to me to test why he felt intimate enough with a gay man to smoke pot together.

I started developing doubts that he didn't have much faith in Islamic principles, mainly because he always engaged in having conversations with me regarding philosophical thoughts on Buddhism. He had shifted to living in Colombo, and was currently visiting the South Asian capital that I happened to be in at that time. He was from the Maldives' capital Male', got a nice job in Sri Lanka, which involved travelling a lot, just as my job demanded that I do a lot of travelling too. He was married but said his wife didn’t have any plans yet to have children.

Buddhism is the prevalent "religion" in the Indian Ocean singular island Sri Lanka although the atheist British evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins is of the opinion it is more of a "lifestyle" than a "religion".

Likewise, Omar is of the opinion that Lord Buddha, aka Siddhartha Gautama's claim that "thoughts" and "feelings" had no meaning of their own, and can be meant in any way we assign meanings to them.

As an atheist like Dawkins, I guess it was a comfortable philosophy that could salve the anxiety and depression some people suffered at the thought that there is no Afterlife and death ends it all by sending everyone back into the Oblivion - the Void from where we first emerged from.

Alfred Wallace is the "forgotten man" of Evolution, and perhaps as to why people of various faiths SINGULARLY HATES Charles Darwin, not because he allegedly said humans are "monkeys" (as wrongfully interpreted by many people who subscribe to monotheist faiths such as Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) but because, rather than Wallace, it was Darwin who became more famous for the theory of Evolution through Natural Selection, thus denying the monotheistic religions' belief in Creationism, including the belief that God created Adam and Eve instead of humans descending from, um, somewhere in the tree of life between "chimpanzees" and "apes"!

After we were done, I lay down on the bed again, but this time my face almost touching the area where Omar's buttcrack was. He had come to me after finishing work, and his shirt was still tucked into his pants. So I removed the back of his shirt from his pants, and on the exposed skin above where his buttcrack was, I started making rounding motions with my fingers on the area of sacrum. I wanted to see, as a first sign, how he would react to my initiative of touching his tailbone.

He sat still and let me play around his vertebra for what seemed like a long while.

Then he moved in a way as if indicating that he wanted to lie down on the bed beside me. I gave him space so that he can lie next to me across in a way that his feet would still be touching the floor.

He started unbuttoning his shirt but didn't remove it whole and only exposed his upper body. He made no move to unzip his pants.

"Finish what you started." It wasn't a command because he sounded as if it was a kind of request that he feels I am obliged to attend to.

I realized that since we had finished smoking our joint, he had not said even a single word until then.

I made the move to always do what I do when I start foreplay.

I didn't lick his neck because I didn't want to put him on edge by letting him wonder whether I was going to kiss his mouth - something some men refrain from for reasons I don't exactly understand.

This was based on some previous experience where some guys didn't want to be kissed on the mouth. I didn't understand the reasons for this except that they might not like the taste of saliva of another man. But this conclusion further raises the question why these same guys have no problem with swallowing my cum. If they dislike the taste of other men's bodily fluids, why make an exception for semen, I wonder. Of course, my favorite "beverage" is semen so there's no question that I enjoy "drinking" it.

So I directly moved onto his right armpits, smelled it all around intimately with my nose rubbing up and down all the hair, excited by his own distinct male smell emanating from the rough skin of his armpits. His pheromones were spellbinding, to say the least.

I rolled my tongue a few times and then moved onto the next phase which is nibbling and sucking the nipples. I massaged his right nipple by tightening my lips around the areola. I noticed that, in a nice contrast with his yellow-like skin, the darker shade of pink of his areola was an interesting sight.

I spent a few moments doing that but noticed that he was not squirming and wiggling. I wondered whether he was not aroused and thereby it didn't give him much pleasure.

In fact, I was wondering whether he had any gay tendencies at all. I was wondering whether this was some type of experiment he was undergoing to try out what a gay sex experience was like, and that he was allowing me to play with him because I was his close friend and that he trusted me to be gentle with him and honor him by treating him gently in such a moment of physical intimacy where he had submitted wholly to my authority and he expected me to act kindly toward him without him feeling that I was exploiting him.

I also wondered whether his allowing of my continued sexual pleasuring of him was a means for him to explore his whole body trying to identify his erogenous parts and whether it pleasured him and whether he was been accommodating towards me because he wanted a full-fledged gay sex experience.

I moved on to his navel, licked it a few times, then travelled down along his treasure trail, and came to the point of his pants which still was zipped up.

I removed the prong, pulled back the end tip, and released his belt from the loop. Straps removed, I loosened his belt. I took hold of the slider, pulled it down along the chain, until it reached the bottom stop of his pant's zip, exposing his already hard and throbbing cock.

If I had any misgivings that I had doubted earlier whether he was aroused or not when I played with his armpits, nipples, and navel, I was now happy at seeing his boner and content to get the confirmation that his hard-on confirmed beyond any doubt he was aroused and sexually pleasured, thanks to what I supposed could be my own style of foreplay when engaging in physical and sexual intimacy with men. Call it my own way or art of pleasuring men! Lol.

But then, therein was the biggest surprise: his cock was unique from all the other many cocks I had come into contact up to that point in my whole life. It was not like any other lingam I had ever seen up until that moment in my life. It wasn't the length of his dick that surprised my gaze - it was the length of two knuckles when erect - but the four shades of color that distinguished his balls, his shaft, his frenulum, and his glans. It was, drumroll, the color of a purple beetroot! Yes, literally, a purple peacock, which I never thought was a real thing. US singer songwriter Katy Perry would have been delighted if, indeed, she had written (https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/Katy-Perry/Peacock), composed, and sung her song "Peacock". (Here is a much funnier version enacted by a male fan in drag - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDxZgFoAciU)

Here was I now, with the real deal. It formed a nice contrast with his fair skin. In fact, it was like looking at a dark, out-of-place thing, amidst a light background. And the four shades of beetroot purple was viscerally and visually appealing.

Being circumcised according to a prevailing Muslim tradition, the frenulum visible beneath his cut cock was an exciting lighter shade than his testes. It is redundant for me to spell this out because anybody who was exposed to any kind of sexual relations with a man would be aware that the shade of the genitals will be darker than the general skin covering his body, and that the shades of the penis itself varies - from dark scrotum, to less dark shaft, to a lesser dark frenulum, and to a much lesser dark glans. That was why his pulsing cockhead appeared like an unskinned purple beetroot I usually mix into any fresh vegetable salad I make.

I lifted his hardened shaft with my right hand, rolled my tongue on his piss slit, in order to let a preliminary excitement arise in him from my playing with his external urethral opening.

Then, after I felt I had played enough with his meatus, without touching any other part of his rock hard cock, I moved immediately to his balls. I was glad he hadn't used body spray because I smelt all the earthy smells that I always looked forward to when I have intimacy with another man. Something like the smell of unadulterated musk (https://jjgayland.blogspot.com/2023/05/blog-post_79.html). Or even the strong smell of river clay which I encounter when I take part in community showers in the river everytime I stayed in a village at the modest jungle homes of my Sri Lankan buddies. I should not be surprised with this fact, because whether religions teach us or not, it makes sense that we decay and become part of the Earth if we are buried after death. Indeed, the religious quote "from dust to dust" rings true as far as our beginning and end are concerned.

Science itself points to this possibility. We are pretty much a product of clay and dirt as about 96% of the human body is carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, phosphorus and sulfur. So some people are off the mark when they deny this because what is the origin of our cells, blood, skin, tissue, etc., if not they are the clay and dirt of our planet?

I pressed my nose near his testicles, took a whiff and a sniff, drawing a long breath in of his sexy masculine fragrance, and savoring it to the full.

I let out my tongue, first rolling it on his left ball, and then moving on to his right ball. In the excitement it stimulated in his genitals, his balls tightened in his scrotum sockets, and rose up to touch the base of his shaft, and snuggly remain there for a few moments. The scrotum's base skin, just above his gouch, the hard muscular muscle that formed the empty path or region between the base of his balls to the beginning of his anus, was loose, so, with my left hand, I pulled that loose skin and held it down, to make his balls stand out, so that I could take it in my mouth. Though some men can take another man's two balls simultaneously into their mouth, I wasn't as skilled or talented as that. What I can do is take a single ball into my mouth at any given time, fondle and caress it gently in order not to hurt him, paying extra attention not to let my teeth touch violently on his balls, something that some men like while others don't, and sometimes cause the latter to lose their erection because of the pain.

I alternated between his two balls and when I looked up and saw that a pre-cum drop had already appeared at the opening tip of his cock, I knew that the time had come for a session of hard cock sucking.

I kept my left hand pressing down on the base of his shaft, to ensure that it kept his shaft hardened and his glans bursting at the seams. I deepthroated him a few times but decided to focus on his cockhead because I was feeling kind of tired from being stoned and I somewhat wanted him to ejaculate soon. So I concentrated on keeping his cockhead under pressure by mouthing it.

As my previous experiences indicate that if I form a ring with my thumb and index finger, and stroke it up and down his banjo string and frenulum, that was enough to make a man reach the point of ejaculation in no time at all. Hence, I regarded my upper lips and lower lips as that ring, and concentrated my oral commissures and tubercles to put pressure on his banjo strings, the corona of the glans, combined with my working on the neck of his glans, to make him cum sooner than later.

As I am a giver, not a taker, what I am good is giving head, and I don't mind boasting about it because it is true. Sometimes I don't mind been not buttfucked and not been allowed to buttfuck in turn because my thing is giving guys blowjobs. In fact, I am passionate, or maybe the right word is obsessed, with oral sex that I feel deprived even if a single day of my life is deprived me of sucking a dude's cock. Perhaps this is why I maintain good relations with suck buddies because they can come in handy at times when I feel deprived of this heavenly act.

But, just as I thought he was about to cum, the moment was spoilt, when he said softly: "Can you stop? I feel I'm being unfaithful to my wife."

There was no way I could continue even if he had not shot his cumload by that point. I had to respect his wishes however much I was sexually excited because he was on the receiving end, and not only that, but it was also the way to respect and treat another human kindly, ethically, and morally. All those years of studying civics in grade school had instilled in me those values strongly in my character and personality.

So, I stopped sucking his cock right at that moment, he zipped up his pants, buttoned his shirt, and told me he will come the next day to smoke pot with me.