Magenta 2

by Funtails


Kojagiri Purnima festival night
5th Oct, 2017
Maharashtra, India

Nineteen centuries ago, the renown city of Ujjayani witnessed the birth of a prince to whom was given the gigantic name of Vikramaditya. Even the Sanskrit-speaking people, who are not usually pressed for time, shortened it to 'Vikram', and a little further West it would infallibly have been docked down to 'Vik'.

Vikram was the second son of the old king, named Gandhar--

"Hold on," one of the boys sitting on the grass interrupted me, "Is this a make believe story or real life?"

"Shut up," said Vikash to my right, "just let him speak."

"But he said the king had your name, Vik, and--"

"Quiet!" said the twelve other boys at once.

The interrupter, Dinesh, slumped down in submission to their will, but his eyes still looked to me for an answer

I smiled and said, "No one knows, kid. That's what old stories are like."

He nodded, I suspected more in gratitude for my acknowledgment than from understanding.

This festival was meant to be a night without sleep, where devotees of Laxmi stayed up until the sun rose to earn the favour of the goddess of prosperity. Like all festivals around here, there was food and music and dancing, but tonight was also a night for tales and games.

I was squatting against the trunk of a mango tree outside the hilltop temple as the boys listened to me tell stories I'd stolen from a book two days earlier, their wide eyes and smiling cheeks lit by the wavering light of the torches set up around the grounds.

This was my cricket team, fresh off a victory against some older mainland boys (Thanks mostly to one talented bowler rather than my relaxed coaching). The boys' faces were varying shades of brown topped with glossy black hair and each was handsome in his own way, but my boy Vik was the one who kept my attention despite him taking a corner seat.

Trying not to spend all my time in eye contact with him, I continued the tale of King Vikram and the baital spirit that possessed people's bodies. Some of the adults even stopped by to hear. An hour later, after two breaks for milk, I was done and the boys, satisfied with the dramatic and spectacularly bloody conclusion, went off to play marbles and dice games.

Except for Vik.

I had plans for him and his smooth, brown body.

We found the little knot of seated people where his family were chanting and singing around a low table set with sweetmeats and glasses of milk. His mother was sitting, clapping along, her saree a faded red, through it was the best one she had. Her hair was ringed with white jasmine at the back and there was an old gold anklet above her feet. She gave him a tired smile. Her night had started this morning with the cooking for the festival.

Leaning down, Vik whispered to his mother and she looked up at me. "You're going home already? It's not even midnight. You're not supposed to sleep unt--"

"They're going to bed," said Rama, one of Vik's uncles, "but I don't think they're going to be sleeping much."

The other uncles laughed behind their fists and she got flushed and then stony-faced. As usual, she sidestepped the fact that I was her son's lover. She held his hand affectionately and said, "You should take some food, bayta. Some pudding or--"

"We'll be back before dawn," Vik said shamelessly as I tried to appear small behind him. "Mac has stuff for me to eat."

Again the uncles giggled. Vik's mother kissed his forehead and gave me a look of frustration. She knew how much her son loved me and our relationship, but she couldn't square that with my corruption of her baby boy.

As we walked the forest path back home, hands clasped as usual, I puzzled through my own doubts about me and Vikash.

I loved him. I loved the whole mixture of often-contradictory things that made him Vik--his gentle touches, his caustic sarcasm and his malicious pranks. His shy smiles and reckless physicality. His long silences and his argumentative defenses of his opinions.

But should I be fucking him?

If I'd met a boy like him back home in Melbourne, some middle-class white boy with equivalent charm, I wouldn't have crossed that line. But out here in the 'uncivilised' world? Where there were no reporters or police? Where his parents let me have my way?

Did I see his dark skin and think 'free pass?'

Vik's shoulder bumped me accidentally as he often did when he could sense me digging a mental hole.

We walked onto the beach, its pale sands glowing under the high full moon. In his white kurta, the boy beside me seemed like an angel. I put my arm around his shoulders and held him to my side. Vik was warm and he felt warmer still as he hugged me one-armed around my waist.

Am I his free pass?

He'd never have formed a bond like this with a local man I felt sure. He'd been fascinated with me, the stranger washed up on his shore. Suppose that had opened for him the opportunity to explore the adolescent desires he'd first discovered in the sex games the island boys played with each other on Saturday afternoons in the woods? Suppose I was safe because I was white and would always be an outsider?

Vik's tugging on my sleeve cleared my head and I realized we were at the footpath leading through the trees to where we lived. Vik had an expectant look. He must have been talking to me while I pondered ethnosexual politics. He shook his head and mumbled in Hindi as he led me home. I caught the word pagal, addle-brained.

I began singing one of the many Bollywood songs about people made pagal by love, my voice loud enough to reach the moon. "Dil to pagal hai!"

"Ugh," said Vik. "Stop. You sound like a grieving hyena."

Grieving hyena.

I ceased my noise to contemplate the phrase as we walked through the silent woods. The boy was becoming quite literary in his old age. Must be all the books I was buying him. Good. Much better than when he'd only known the Ravi Shastri phrase book of cricket cliches.

And he was older. He'd turned twelve a few months ago. Started spurting splendid little wads of boy cum around the same time too.

I panicked at the sense of time leaking away. How long before he wasn't my boy anymore?

I walked up the three steps into our shack while Vik went to the ice box outside. With the moonlight outside, I needed no help to see. I removed the reed mat that was rolled up against the side wall and laid it out on the floor before the doorway. From the side table, I took the little bowl-shaped clay lamps and filled each with some coconut oil before lining them in a circle around the mat. With a box of Three Star matches in hand, I started lighting my way around.

Vik came waking up the steps, pulling his kurta over his head

"Wait!" I said. "What are you doing?"

He peeked out of the neck hole, his hands awkwardly up to hold the collar and said, "You can't massage me if I have clothes on."

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to--"

I'd given him dozens of massages in the last six months since my resolution at Rangpanchami. But tonight was different.

I walked over as he dropped his clothes back into place, looking at me like I was going nutty.

"It's a special night, Vik. I made us come away to be by ourselves because I have a plan for something different."

He looked past me to the sensually lit room and an indulgent smile came over his lips. If I wanted to be weird, he'd let me be weird.

I led him to sit in the centre of the eight-foot wide ring of lamps that took up most of the floor space then I finished lighting the lamps. I brought over my cloth sack of goodies and faced him, the two of us cross-legged in our circle of fire. This was about more than me being weird, of course. Sure, I wanted the ceremoniousness of doing this on a festival night, but despite Vik's inborn skepticism, I knew the mystic nature of the night would work on him too. The gods and goddesses were too much a part of his upbringing. I could see his face becoming serious as he forgot he was participating as a joke.

Thin trails of coconut-scented smoke drifted up around us and between us as I looked into his face. He was more handsome than ever tonight. I stroked his hair back and he pressed his temple against my palm, eyes closed as he followed me into the intimacy of the moment.

Good, he was ready.

I removed a bowl from the bag and uncovered it to reveal slices of mango and banana. Then I brought out the squeeze tube of condensed milk.

Vik smiled and licked his lips unconsciously. Like all Indian kids, he loved the stuff. I picked up a long curve of mango and held it above the bowl, then drizzled the thick creamy goo all over the tip. Vik leaned forward in anticipation, closing his eyes and opening his mouth.

″First taste is mine," I said and his eyes shot open in consternation as I bit off half the piece of mango. As I chewed with exaggerated motions, I grinned and said, ″Quality control and all that, you know."

He gave me a knowing sneer and I waved the remaining half of the mango slice under his nose. When he grabbed for it with his mouth, I pulled it away, but he grabbed my wrist in his small grip and took the fruit from me with his wet lips. I didn't fight too hard since there was a ring of oily fire around us.

He ate with big chewing motions as well and I said, "I bet your piece doesn't taste as good as mine without the milk."

He thought for a bit and then jutted his chin forward and opened his mouth, waiting. I shook my head and smiled, but I was already lifting the tube. I was tempted to overload his mouth with the condensed milk as I poured it in, but then I thought, 'He might actually like that.'

I lifted a piece of banana and coated it with the thick stuff and let him take it into his mouth from my fingers, his teeth and tongue briefly sliding along my skin.

When he was done swallowing, he looked at the bowl and then at me with a raised eyebrow.

I pointed to my own mouth.

He impatiently picked up a banana slice and gave it the barest trickle of milk and then made to stuff it into my waiting mouth. I held his hand gently and brought it to my lips, taking it slowly and reverently. I think something clicked for him about then, seeing the serious expression on my face, because he stopped joking around and we finished the bowl with an earnest selflessness, tongues flashing as we licked the juices from our admiring smiles.

I set the empty bowl aside with the half-finished milk then stood, bringing Vik to his feet with me.

I traced my fingers down his smooth neck and chest to the top of his kurta. Vik raised his arms and I lifted the top over and off him, tossing it onto our bed. He reached toward me, his actions just as deliberate and ritualistic as mine. I admired his slim, brown torso as he lifted the hem of my kurta as high as he could reach. I bent at the waist so he could finish the job himself and my top joined his.

I fingered the elastic cord that held up his cricket pants. These were pale blue replicas of the Indian team's track-style kit that I'd gotten him when we went to see a match in Mumbai before the monsoon started. He seldom wore anything else on important occasions.

I undid the knot and knelt, my face level with his belly. I kissed and tongued his navel as I pulled his pants down. He sighed and held my head to him, but I pulled away and he stepped out of his pants. I made sure to pull his jockey shorts down and off him as well and his hard little cock sprang free, its jaunty posture quite at odds with the sacramental mood I was trying to create.

Not that I minded. I gave the shaft a playful slurp and sat back on my heels smiling up at Vik, who seemed impatient.

"You have to learn to relax more," I told him, standing and tossing his clothes with the others.

"You have to learn to get to the point faster," he said, dipping forward and stripping my trousers down my legs. I place a hand on his head and slowed him down. Vik gave me a look of exasperation, but proceeded more calmly. Not before giving me a mock headbutt to the crotch, however.

When we were both naked, I pressed him to the mat so that he lay flat on his stomach, head sideways, arms along his torso. His body was golden brown in the flickering light and each shadowed contour of him seemed a wonder of youthful splendour. The smooth skin was covered in fine boy hairs that glowed with reflected fire, lending Vik an ethereal presence.

With the small clay jar of camphor-infused coconut oil in my hand, I knelt at his feet. I dribbled oil onto the back of his lower right leg. The high scent of the camphor wafted up to me even as the oil spread down the curves of his leg. With my free hand, I spread the oil to his ankle and foot, then set the jar down. I bent the smooth leg up at the knee and cupped his ankle, gently grinding my thumbs into the spaces between the joint as I slowly rotated the foot.

My thumbs pressed along the top of his arch to his toes. It reminded me of how some days he and his friends would play-fight with each other, imitating their Bollywood heroes and their extravagant spin kicks and Vik would often pose with his foot high in the air after he had intimidated one of the other boys with his speed. I gave each perfect little digit a deep stroking and then slid an oiled finger into spaces between. Vik squirmed, ticklish.

As with the right foot, I oiled and massaged his left. Then I slid my hands up his slim calves, right then left again. The same calves he used to propel him into standing backflips in the schoolyard after the fights were over, and which would flash overhead as he completed the tight circle and returned upright. He was ticklish behind his knees too and again he got squirmy. His thighs, so sexy in their slender strength, were next. The same thighs that would strain and stretch when he raced the other boys down the beach. He never won, but no one ever looked more like they deserved to win. I took my time, starting with light strokes along the skin and building to deep, grinding presses. Again he squirmed, this time whenever my touch wandered near the insides of his thighs. I could see his little ball sack pulled tight and compact so I knew he was sporting a woody underneath.

I sat to his left to massage the arm there, starting with fingers and the back of his hand, then working inch by slow inch along his smooth forearms, elbows and upper arm. They were skinny under my circling fingers, but I knew well how they flashed with speed as he swam with his friends in the bay after school. As I switched over to the right side and repeated my sequence, I watched the naked form below me, amazed that I was here, touching him, giving him affection, laying my hands on him in service to his ease. I marveled at the construction of him, so resilient and so delicate at the same time. His body so simple in its beauty, so complex in its design. So open in its features, so secretive in its pleasures.

Straddling his thighs, I dribbled the oil into the valley between his prominent shoulder blades and watched as it meandered down his back.

Setting the jar down, I pressed both palms alongside his lower backbone and slid them up his smooth skin, gathering the oil under my hands. I spread the slick stuff with my fingers across up to his shoulders and neck and back down to the slim waist and the slanted curve at the top of his ass.

He was flawless, his skin supple and warm, the flesh underneath strong and soft at the same time.

With his back all slick, I started pressing on him with my thumbs, sliding them together up along his back to the base of his slender neck.

Vik purred as I began a more intense level of pressure, sliding the heel of my hand up his lower back on one side and then the other.

I hovered over him like a man in a trance, sensations flowing back into me from my fingertips along my arms as I tried to create pleasure in him.

He groaned in disappointment as I ceased my massage to get more oil on my hands. I touched lightly on the nape of his neck then steadily pressed in and slid up the back of his head. When I reached his ears, I tenderly took the flaps between my fingers and stroked them from the curved top to the soft earlobe. Then his temples. I used a circular motion with my thumbs and his breathing calmed even more.

Again I took oil from the jug. I returned to his thighs and slid my hands over his firm buttocks, rising and falling with the curve. I kept the long stroke going, climbing all the way up his back to the blades of his shoulders and then to the base of his neck. Over and over I sent my palms on this voyage of love, taking in the feel of him, so warm and soft.

Time for the front, but there was one last job. I got a good drip of oil on my middle finger and teased the opening between his round ass cheeks. He was as tight as ever, but used to my intrusions, so his muscle gave easily as I slipped inside and performed a gentle twirl.

He moaned in easy satisfaction as I kept that up for a few minutes, relaxing him back there and making the rest of him release its tension too.

My cock was rock hard at how intimate I was being with this boy, but I had to wait. It was still his time. Still his pleasure I was after.

I withdrew and carefully rolled Vik onto his back. He looked up at me, his glossy eyes heavily lidded. I repeated the ceremonious sequence again: toes, ankles, calves, knees, thighs.

His hard-on wavered and fell as I took my time, but it popped up again as I reached the insides of his thighs. I took his crotch in hand. It felt smaller than usual with the slick oil. I pressed my fingertips gently against the place behind his balls, sliding back and forth. Then I massaged the still-hairless space above his shaft. Finally, I took his erect boy stalk and used my thumb and three fingers to stroke him.

But it was still just a step on the journey, so I let it go and began rubbing his abdomen. I slid up past his ribs and circled each nipple with my thumbs. Vik arched his neck backward and purred. I kept my pace steady, slowly leaning forward as I squeezed and released the muscles at the top of his shoulders. I laid a whisper kiss on his neck and pulled back before he could react.

I watched him below me. His whole body was limp and loose. Every place I looked was a place I'd touched with affection tonight. Every place I'd touched had made me feel blessed to know it.

But I had to bring his pleasure to a close. I spread his legs and knelt between them. My right hand slipped under his ass, the middle finger seeking out his slippery hole. My left hand took his hard dick and held it upright as I took the head into my mouth, ignoring the coconut oil flavour.

He sighed as I sucked on him, my tongue sliding up and down the underside. Any other day, he would have grabbed my hair, but Vik's mind was floating too far away to command his body. Instead, his arms stayed still and I took him into my mouth in the same controlled and deliberate way I'd done everything tonight.

With careful strokes, I eased the finger in his slicked-up butthole, back and forth, reaching on the in-stroke for the little bump of his prostate and pressing on it with each retreat.

Vik finally began to stiffen as I began lowering my whole mouth on his boy dick, stroking it with my wet lips as I kept sucking.

I popped my finger out of him and moved my body closer to Vik. I lifted his ass into the air and hooked his knees over my shoulders. He was starting to undulate as the pleasure built in him. The looseness of his muscles seemed to have left him unable to resist the battering of the sensations and he shivered and shook as he came.

I held my head steady and kept slurping as he shot his wadlets of cum into my eager mouth. I let his spurts lie on my tongue, taking in their nutty flavour until they thinned out and then I swallow it all down.

He sagged back to the mat and I eased him partway down until his upper back was lying flat. But his splayed thighs were resting around my hips as I knelt on the reed mat, his elevated buttocks right before my hard, leaking cock.

With his muscles so loose after his massage and orgasm, I wasted no time. After a quick double check of my finger in his asshole to make sure he was prepared, I aimed my cock head at his waiting entrance and slid forward.

The oil made getting inside smooth, with a tight sensation of pressure from all around, but almost no friction. His entire passage gripped me in that warm welcome as I slid right up into him and 'ooohed' my relief. This whole massage scene had keyed me up, and I was hornier than I could ever remember now that I'd shared such intimacy with Vik.

He rolled his head languorously from side to side and mumbled his appreciation of how my manhood felt inside him.

I treated our lovemaking like an extension of the massage. I went methodically, seeking to press against his insides gently and firmly until he lost his tension. I coupled it with the squeezing motions of my hands up his thighs and waist.

That feeling of his skin under me boosted my arousal. I fucked him harder and more intensely. His slippery back began to slide off the mat toward one of the oil lamps as I pushed into him again and again.

I halted and pulled out. He started to sit, but I pressed him back down again. I set myself back at the edge of the circle and then pulled him by the hips back into position. Again, I savoured the feel of entering his tight hole and sank into him. But this time I brought my whole self down on him. As I thrust into him, I slid over his oiled-up body, but my weight kept him from moving. I wrapped my arms around him too, his slick back enhancing the feeling every little motion as our bodies moved against each other.

I rested my forehead on his and smiled. He held my face in his oily hands as I made love to him.

We moved in sync, Vik locking his ankles around my back and using his thighs to pull himself to me each time I pressed my hardness into him.

Around us, the smoke had gotten thicker and it gave a hazy, streaky look to the lights around us. In my mind, I saw the two of us, bodies writhing in that circle of light. My skin colour didn't matter. Neither did his. It was just the two of us in there--and where we came from and who we had once been made no difference in our little cocoon. My worries about why we were together and what we were to each other all drifted away with the smoke into the night air.

Freed of that last doubt, I could feel only the softness of his wet skin against me, the warm depths of his love chute as I stroked into it and his adoration as he held me close.

In my calm, the forces of arousal gathered like a fireball within my stomach and then I exploded from within, pouring out my lust, love and ecstasy.

I kept my pace even and smooth, my mind like a still pond even with the emotional storm raging through me. Like some kind of zen state. The climax lasted forever it seemed and I rode it out, soaking in the closeness of me and Vik in our two-sided circle.

Afterward, the boy dozed in my arms as I lay on my back. I was calm, yet alert, staring at the flames. I didn't feel sleepy at all, but the world seemed to shrink to just me, Vik and the light around us.

When did this become a dream? I know I'm awake, but the ceiling is gone and the moon is hanging above us, the stars at its back. I stroke lengthwise along the smooth, wavy grain of the unpolished wooden floor. It feels real enough.

Footsteps sound outside, jewelry chiming with each footstep. A pause at the door and then they climb the stairs into my home. Out of the dark walks the goddess.

Mother Laxmi's face glows in the firelight, even as the shadows refuse to leave the folds of her hooded head scarf. Her saree is red, like a ruby made into clothing, and her wrists and ankles are heavy with intricate gold.

She looks about the inside of my shack and under her scornful examination, I feel poor for the first time since my arrival on this island

"The boy should not be sleeping. He cannot now obtain my blessings."

"I am awake. Give me what you wish and he shall receive it too. What is mine is his, now and forever."

For a moment she seems pleased, but then her disdain returns. "You see yourself as this boy's benefactor, but looking at you now, this shameless display inside a holy circle, the way you so callously use his body for your--"

"He is as much my benefactor as I am his. He--"

"Do not interrupt me, mortal." Her eyes flare with golden fire. I stay silent as she kneels by the boy and caresses his sleeping brow. "What kind of life have you brought this child? The knowledge of exploitation and a place in this grand mansion of yours?" She pointed sarcastically at the bare, unpainted walls.

I think of mentioning the fact that this boy will one day own half an island, but I fear that is a feeble boast to offer the goddess of wealth. Instead, I say, "I offer him all he desires from what I have. If his chosen rewards seem deficient to you, Great Mother, it is because he has a humble soul and seeks only to give and receive love and friendship."

"Is this love? Is this friendship?"

I stroke a hand down Vik's bare flank. He snuggles closer to me and mumbles. I hear the word pagal.

Looking into the eyes of the goddess, I say, "Love? I sometimes wonder myself. But whatever it is we have, it is what he wants too."

"And if I told you that he needed to leave you to be fulfilled, what would you do?"

Vik trembles in my arms as if fearful."I would let him go," I say.

"And if he decided he wanted to stay with you, abandoning his fortune for your sake? Would you make sure he left?"

"I would never force him to do anything. For good or for ill, his choices are for him to make." Then I add in a cheeky voice, "But I would counsel him to heed you, Great Mother."

Laxmi reluctantly smiles. "Then the fate of your soul rests on the decisions of this child." She turns and walks away.

"That's how it's always been," I tell her, but she is long gone. Only darkness remains.

I did not come back to the real world all at once. For a second or two, I thought I heard the faint jangle of jeweled footsteps in the forest, but I shook it off. Around me the solid fact of my hut confronted me.

Vik stirred and came awake.

"Good," I said. "You're up. We have to get dressed and head back to the top of--"

"You still owe me one." He rubbed his eyes and then sat up.

"One what?" I asked, hunting for my kurta

"You know what..."

"No way. I had one and you had one. We're even."

"I was close when you shot off. You can't just leave me holding on. You owe me a happy finish."

"Happy ending, you mean."

"The massage isn't over until you give me one."

I threw the kurta at his face and while he struggled to unblind himself I tackled him back to the mat, ending up on top of his smaller body. "Horny little boy!"

He swung the kurta away, faking vulnerability."I was just an innocent child until you came along and corrupted me!"

Yesterday, that joke might have hurt, but I had come through Kojagiri Purnima cleansed of doubt. Still, I put on a remorseful face and said, "You're right, Vik. I'll leave you alone from now on and never touch you again."

I began to rise up from his warmth and his face went from shock to alarm and then to a grin. "Alright, you're right. I'm horny. A horny boy."

I picked up the squeeze pouch of condensed milk and raised an eyebrow. Vik opened his mouth and I let him have some. He made to swallow, but I stopped him, then leaned in for a kiss. We shared the sticky-sweet stuff as we pressed our tongues and lips together hungrily. He reached around and pulled my closer bringing me back down to the mat with him as we continued to make out. His slim shape felt so wonderful against me, like it had been fated.

But there was work to do and a deadline to meet.

I pulled back and smacked my lips contemplatively. "Still not the taste I'm looking for."

"What other--? Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes!"

He fought me playfully as I dribbled thick milk over his crotch, spilling it across his tight little balls and his happy boy erection. It splashed his thighs and abdomen and leaked down to his crack before I was done.

"You have to clean this up!" he said. "This isn't funny. It's going to bring ants and--"

"Cleaning it up is the whole point." I pushed his knees apart in the air and dived in. I started from his butt cheeks and up the back of his thighs using long insistent swipes of my tongue. I lingered at his butt for a while, but the milk on his balls kept getting on my nose and in my eyes, so I switched over to them, holding them in my mouth and sucking gently on his sack until he was clean.

He moaned the whole time.

I skipped the penis and lapped the tight spaces between his balls and his thighs, then up to his abdomen and his navel, where my circling tongue made him wriggle so hard he held my head and tried to push me away.

I pressed on until I had licked him clean and then finally held up his slim boy dick. I licked up the sides, taking the sweet thick milk coating off with easy deliberate strokes. I went all around, but there was no way to get him truly clean, so the film of condensed milk stayed on him as I started giving him a blowjob, my lips sliding down and then back up his sticky shaft as I sucked and slurped.

"Unnh, unh, unh," he panted as I sent him into orbit with my tongue and lips. Again he grabbed my head and this time he shook in waves as he pushed his crotch stiffly at my mouth over and over again.

The true sweet milk of the night burst into my mouth and I kept sucking as he spurted five or six times and then kept sucking until he had fallen still.

I sat up and looked at Vik, swirling his boyish cum in my mouth before swallowing.

"Happy now?"

"Oh yes. A-plus. You made me shoot like a tracer bullet."

I smiled at him quoting the cricket commentator cliché, but didn't take his bait. "Come on, we can wash off at the beach before we go back to the temple."

We didn't bother to get dressed. Rather we kept our clothes in our hands, knowing that we would be quite alone in this part of the island. I looked off to the darkness of the forest path as we walked down the step and Vik's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Was ma here?"

"What?"

Vik walked over to his mother's covered bowls sitting on the table of the outdoor kitchen. He lifted the lid and dug a spoon in. "You should have told me she brought by pudding while I was sleeping."

She must have come by and heard us fucking earlier. Poor woman. She'd been so embarrassed she left her gift and gone back without saying anything.

But then I thought of my dreamlike visit from Laxmi, when my mind had been clouded by the thick smoke. Laxmi in her red saree and motherly concern. Maybe...

Nah.

I shook my head clear and Vik and I walked down the sandy path. Soon the glittering ocean was visible at the end of the covered trail.

"Mac," Vik said, squeezing my hand. "I want you to know I really liked the massage."

"Thanks."

He released my hand and put his arm around me, pressing his body close. "I know I play around about that stuff, but you're the only person I feel like I'm myself with. And the only one who understands how to touch that part of me."

I wanted to make a joke about only my cock being long enough to reach the deepest parts of him, but that would have spoiled the mood. Instead, I said, "I feel the same way about you."

Then I held him close and we walked out of the forest and into the world.

The End


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Notes

---My portrayal of the festival is based on internet research and a few personal experiences. I apologize for any mistakes I made and if anyone wants to send me corrections, I encourage you since Nifty sometimes lets me update the story files.

---I generally dislike continuations of Nifty stories, but I put a throwaway line into the first part of Magenta (which was intended to be the only part) about Mac wanting to give Vik massages and it occurred to me that such an event deserved its own story. Hence, a sequel.

---Comments on this story are welcome. Even if you're reading this in an archive years from now, I'd love to hear what you think.

-Funtails@hotmail.com
October, 2017


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