It was a day like any other. I was playing cricket on the street with my friends. It was getting dark, time to wind up. I couldn’t help notice a young girl with a kid in her hand, watching me from the end of the street. This was happening for the past few days. This can’t be a coincidence, I thought. There was a pattern to it. Just as I said bye to my friends and started to go home, the girl would walk ahead of me and go to the entrance to my building and slowly walk up the stairs, looking back over her shoulder at me.

I stayed on the ground floor, and the first few days I ignored her. That day, I investigated. Instead of going to my flat, I followed her to the first floor flat where stood near a door and rang the bell. I knew that flat was empty and locked for months now; the owner, Subbu-mama had shifted residence. I showed her the lock and, a bit nervously, she said, Oh, I didn’t notice the lock. I told her I’d noticed her coming her daily and asked her which house she was going to. Pointing to the locked door, she said she had come to meet Sobha, Subu-mama’s daughter. I knew she was lying, but the conversation was good enough for me to make my move. I was very close to her and could smeel the faint fragrance of Pond’s Dreamflower talc on her body and feel the warmth of her skin. She was about five-and-a-half feet tall, dusky, slim with silky straight hair, luscious lips and small pretty eyes. I touched the kid’s head and said lovely kid. She said he was her neighbour’s son, and wasn’t he cute?

My left hand moving over the kid’s head to his back, I gently touched the girl’s chest. She didn’t move away. Encouraging sign. I lowered my hand and at the same time, bent a little to kiss the boy. Now my hand was resting on her breast. I brought my right hand to her face and said, “You’re cute, too,” and kissed her lightly on her lips, cupping her breast. She was breathless and I could see goose pimples on her dusky arms. My mouth was dry. I managed to whisper: “Why don’t you drop the kid home and come to the terrace of our building?” She nodded, said okay.

Sex was not new to me. What started as teenage curiosity — checking each others’ cocks and touching them — soon developed into a mutual masturbating club of sorts. We were a group of a few male friends who, on the pretext of doing homework, used to mutually gratify each other.

Then there was Subbu-mama, my first floor neighbour. One day, he invited me home and gave me several Playboys to check. That was my first encounter with porn. The pictures gave a tingling sensation and I had a instant hard on. Subbu-mama was sitting on a wooden table, his white lungi folded above his knees, his matured cock visible. He pointed to his cock and said why don’t you touch it?

I did not only touch him. I sucked him till he came deep in my mouth. His fat cock felt better than all those kiddy cocks I was sucking. Then he gave me a handjob.

Subbu-mama became a weekly affair. I knew he was doing other boys but I didn’t bother much till I found that Zaheed, my mutual mastubating club friend, was in his house too. Zaheed was a tall, dark, Muslim boy, almost bony, but with a cock that was like a piece of hard wood. Zaheed was after my ass: thoda dalne de na … he’d say, Let me put it in a bit. So far, I’d refused. Now here was mama seated at his favourite table and Zaheed and I took turns sucking him. While I sucked mama’s cock, Zaheed kneeled down and sucked mine, and when he sucked mama, I sucked Zaheed.

I was standing, bent forward and sucking mama’s cock now. Zaheed was kneeling behind me, licking my asshole. Mama said, suck it deep and pressed the back of my head on his throbbing cock. At the same time, I noticed his hand going behind his back and coming out with a bottle of Parachute coconut oil. He handed it to Zaheed.

Zaheed needed no further hint. He promptly oiled his cock thoroughly, squeezed some on my asshole and then, spitting, touched his cock-head to my asshole. I could feel its warmth. Subbu-mama had entangled his legs in my thighs and kept one hand on the back of my head and another on my back. Zaheed, too, held me tightly as he drove his cock right inside my tight asshole. The searing pain I felt subsided with each stroke from Zaheed. Kya mast gaand hai, mama, he said. Soon I heard him grunting and felt his hot cum spurting deep inside me and it felt good but Zaheed didn’t take out his cock. He still had a hardon and, with his cock still inside my asshole, he walked me to the bed and continued fucking me. Zaheed’s cock in my ass, now lubricated with his cum, felt slippery and good. He was spluttering. Kitne dinse bol raha tha jara gaand de, aaj tera gaand achese marunga.

Then there were Kamala and Lata. Kamala was a Gujarati maid who used to work in a friend’s house and mine. One day my friend was very excited. He said he had fucked Kamala. How? I asked. He said she asked him for Rs.25/- at which he asked what she would do for that money. She just went to his bedroom, removed her blouse and, lifting her saree, lay down on the bed. And my friend fucked her. The next day my Rs.25/- was hers too.

Lata was a maid’s daughter, a Maharashtrian. She used to accompany her mother to the households where she worked, but given a oppurtunity, she used to sneak out to get a fuck. Soon all our friends were fucking her in bushes, terraces, empty houses. This young female was insatiable: she used to hold my ass and drive it down on her saying *aur jorse chod.”

I went home, had a shower, splashed some Old Spice on my underarm and neck, wore a fresh tee and shorts and then, telling mom that I was going to copy some notes, went out and headed straight to the terrace. She was waiting for me there. I took her in my arms, gave her a warm hug and a kiss on her lips. She gently parted her lips allowing my tongue to enter her warm mouth. My hands unzipped the chain on back of her kurta and opened her bra hook and then, in one single movement, I took off her kurta and bra above her head. Then came her salwaar. She wore no panties, and now she was standing naked near the entrance to the terrace in the dimming lights. I saw her beauty for the first time, a tall slim body, flat tummy, long slim legs, lovely tight boobs a little bigger than a ripe sweet lime or mousambi, taut nipples.

She broke my trance: khali dekhega kya? I replied, chodega bhi, chul, and pointed her to a place under the water tank where we had a mat (chatai) laid on the floor and few coconut tree leaves to block sun and the view from other buildings. This was the spot where we played cards on afternoon. I walked her naked to this spot, removed my shorts and tees, revealing my hard on, laid my clothes over the mat, told her to lay down, and I fucked her. Kissing, hugging, biting, pressing boobs, talking dirty, I fucked her, a pure animilastic fuck, I needed it, my body needed it, my cock needed it, she needed it. Saali kya chut hai tera … itne dinse kahan thi? Tujhe aaj bahut chodunga! I fucked her four times in two hours and then we dressed, hugged again and I asked her what her name was. Sunita, she said, and hugged me too and said kal phir aaungi and, kissing my forehead and eyes said, I love you, and then left me to recharge my balls for the next day.