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83.Winter In Bangalore

Winter In Bangalore

While all comments are welcome as usual, I have never visited India so please don't write to correct and geographical data.

The usual copyright rules apply


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
Kristan; 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 Kristan
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 Christan seemed a good
choice.

On the way to my house, on the outskirts of the city, we chatted as
Kristan pointed out various landmarks. Firstly he told me that he was
known as Chris, 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 "Chris, 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 ensuite to the master bedroom. Chris explained
that the kitchen and his quarters were in the ground floor. I poured a
drink from a well stocked cabinet and offered Chris one but he looked
quite embarrassed so I quickly apologised, 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris brought my morning tea I was dressed and ready.

Work went as expected that first day, exhausting and hot. So much so
that when Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris 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, apologising 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 Chris 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 ...
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