Date: Mon, 5 Oct 2015 20:06:13 -0400
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Richin

RICHIN
By Lance Kyle

My name is Joseph Scarborough, early 50s, white, twice divorced, and I'm a
professor of biology at a big public university. This story begins with one
of my doctoral advisees, Tama (I won't use her last name).  She and her
husband (Abay) came originally from an island very near the coast of India.
Showing promise in the government-run schools during their early years, the
Indian government sponsored both of them to go to school on the mainland
(where they met and married), and then on to postgraduate studies in the
U.S.  Abay went to medical school and at the time of this story was a
resident in the local teaching hospital.  Tama studied biology, did very
well at it, and was enrolled in our doctoral program as an advisee and
assistant in my lab.  They were both in their mid-30s, very nice people,
and I had hung out with them and their two sons at department functions.
The kids, especially the older one, were friendly and could conduct a
conversation, which not every kid can.  Of course, I worked closely with
Tama every day in the lab and in advising her dissertation work.  These
friendly connections were about all there was until this story begins.

Tama asked if I could meet her and Abay for coffee at the local joint,
Sufficient Grounds.  Of course I agreed, wondered a bit why Abay was coming
also, but thought nothing of it at the time. We settled in our booth with
our mugs.  There was a pause in which Tama looked with maybe a touch of
anxiety at Abay, who blushed beneath his medium dark skin, cleared his
throat, and then began.

"Joe," he began. "Let me get right to the point.  We come from a small
tribal group on our home island.  Our customs are, uh, very different in
many ways from what you have here in the U.S."

He paused.  I smiled and nodded encouragement, as did Tama.  Clearing his
throat again, he went on.

"We have customs and traditions concerning the coming of age of our
children, especially our sons."  He stopped, looked aside with what I
thought was an expression of embarrassment—even a hint of
despair?—and then went on.  "Our son Richin, whom you have met briefly,
I think, is twelve, and nearing...nearing the time of...coming of age."  He
swallowed a gulp of coffee, hard.  "We have come to you to ask your help
with it.  Please hear us out.  You are likely to think this is
very...strange."  He took a deep breath and puffed it out, evidently
distressed in some way. Tama looked at him in sympathy and then took over,
stretching her hand out toward mine but not quite touching it.

"Dr. Joe," she said, a little more formally since I was her supervisor,
after all. She seemed to summon up courage and then plunged right in.  "The
most important ritual in our tribe, for the coming of age of boys, is that
they should take into themselves the seed of an elder of the tribe.  They
MUST do this before they expel seed themselves, or they may have trouble
making and raising their own children in the future. Very bad luck would
follow. As you know, we have no elders of our own tribe here.  Richin is
twelve and...and nearing the time when he might expel seed even without
intending to.  At night, you know."

I nodded with what I hoped was an expression of tolerance and openness,
although the practice was nothing I'd ever heard of before.  Frankly, it
sounded like the premise for a porn story.  At that point Abay, having
recovered himself, broke in on his wife's explanation.

"We must turn to an elder of what counts as our tribe here.  I cannot ask
anyone in the medical community, that would end my career.  But you are an
elder in Tama's tribe at the academy.  So we are coming to you for help.
We want you to be an elder and help Richin in this ritual."

Let it never be said that I'm quick on the uptake about social matters.
But I began to wonder if I really understood them correctly, and decided to
tread carefully.

"Of course I'm happy to be of help," I said.  "But how can I help?  I know
of no elders from your tribe, either."

Abay took a deep breath and pushed ahead.  "Yes, but we want YOU to be the
elder to initiate him.  We want him to take your seed.  He has grown so
much over the last few months—all this American food, I'm afraid—and
he must complete the ritual before he expels his own seed.  He understands
this, but you know, sometimes that happens, at night, accidentally.
Will...will you be that elder?"

Well now, that was plain.  "Let me be clear," I said.  "Are you asking me
to molest your son?"

Both immediately rushed to say no, it was nothing of the sort, that what
might seem so from an American perspective was an important ritual from
their perspective, and that they—and Richin—would be grateful for my
assistance.

I was dumbfounded.  I'd done some same sex stuff now and then—I think
few people are all one way or the other—but never with someone that
young.  And never part of some tribal practice.  I'm afraid I sat gaping,
open-mouthed for a moment.  Tama stretched her hand out further and,
greatly daring given our professional relationship, squeezed my hand with
hers. "Please," she said.

"What...what does Richin think of all this?" I asked.

"Oh, he understands the urgency as well," Tama said.  Abay chimed in, "We
told him we were looking for an elder of our `tribes' here in America.
Actually, we named you, as you are the most logical choice.  He was fine
with it."

I thought for a long moment.  I was half in disbelief.  I was flattered.  I
was worried about the legal ramifications.  And I was intrigued. Tama and
Abay now looked at me with hesitant smiles and expressions of pleading in
their sparkling dark eyes.  I gave a long sigh. "OK," I said, "I'll do it.
What exactly do we do?"

And that's what led, on a Friday night a mere two days later, to a ring of
my doorbell. I lived on a spacious lot a little out from town, so no
neighbors could see the family at my door.  I had showered and dressed in a
sweatshirt and long sweatpants, bare feet.  I answered the door.

The family was standing there, both parents dressed casually in American
clothes and grinning—with gratitude and relief, I thought.  Richin stood
in front, between them.  Like his parents, he had smooth medium dark skin,
thick, straight, black hair, and beautiful facial features that, you could
tell, were just being tweaked by rising hormones.  He glanced at me quickly
and then looked down, a shy smile on his face.  He was dressed in a clean
robe that look tribal, indeed it look ancient.  It was in very good repair,
but you could just tell it was old.  Around his middle was a colorful sash
or wide belt with interesting designs on it, and the sash looked brand new.
I said hello and shook Tama and Abay's hands, and then Richin's hand, which
he pushed out in response to my proferred shake, then dropped.

The parents paused half a moment and then seemed to rouse themselves, Tama
kissed Richin on the top of the head, Abay gave his shoulder a squeeze, and
then announcing they would return in four hours, both abruptly left,
walking into the twilight down the path to the driveway.  Richin and I
stood for a second in the doorway, looking at each other, slow smiles
beginning to grow on our faces.

"Richin, come in" I said, ushering him in and closing the door behind him.
I turned him toward me and gently seized his shoulders with both hands.
"Richin, I want to be sure you know what we are going to do and that you
are OK with it," I said.

He nodded vigorously, even eagerly.  "Oh yes, Dr. Scarborough, I do, and I
am grateful," he said.  "I know...I know this may be strange for you, but I
am so thankful for your help, and...and I guess I'm a little looking
forward to it...Will it hurt?" He grasped my arms with his hands. His face
showed a mingling of concern and anticipation.

I grinned broadly.  "No, hurt is the last thing it will do.  You may think
it's a little strange also, but...let's just do this with friendship, and
try to have a good time with it, both of us, OK?"  He smiled as well and
nodded.  "Oh, and call me Joe" I added. "You want a soda or something?"

He did, and after I gave it to him I gently led him to the bedroom.  THEN
there was a moment of awkwardness, both of us standing there, shy grins on
our faces, not quite knowing what to do next. "That's a nice robe and sash"
I finally said, to break the awkwardness.  "The robe looks...antique."

Richin smiled proudly. "The robe is very old," he said.  "It is what the
boys in my family wear for...for this.  My father wore it, his brothers,
their father, and so on.  Very old."  He fingered the sash.  "The sash is
new.  I give it to you to keep, after...afterwards."  He kept his eyes on
it and then said, a little breathlessly, "Should I take the sash off now?"

"Yes," I said, "and do you want me to start taking some things off?"  He
nodded, giving quick glances at my clothing.  He fiddled with some kind of
closure on the sash and it slipped off.  He caught it up, folded it, and
laid it gently on a nearby chair. His eyes darted around the room, always
returning to me and my actions.  I could see that his robe had no other
closure, and was starting to fall open.  He looked at me nervously now,
expectation, desire, and perhaps a little fear warring across his features.

I pulled off my sweatshirt to reveal a naked chest and abdomen.  I'm no
bodybuilder, but I've kept in shape for my age.  Curly hairs covered my
chest and snaked down the middle of my abdomen.  I could hear a little
intake of Richin's breath, and his eyes now began studying my body.  To put
him at ease I thought I'd take the decisive step.  I quickly shoved down my
sweatpants and stepped out of them.  I was not wearing underwear.  There I
was in the nude, my penis not exactly erect but a little more full than
flaccid.  Now Richin really did gasp, and stared intently up and down the
length of my body.

"You've seen a man naked before, haven't you?" I asked, half in amusement.
Richin's eyes were big as saucers and anchored on my penis and balls.  Then
it dawned on me.  "Oh! You've not seen a white man naked before!"  He
flashed a sudden grin of embarrassment and nodded once. His rosebud mouth
was open now, breath panting just the tiniest little bit between his brown
and magenta lips. I took a step closer and put my hands gently on the
shoulder of his robe, and then swished it off, also laying it on a nearby
chair out of respect for its age.  Richin gasped and instinctively covered
his genitals with his hands...then removed the hands...then covered them
again, confusion rolling over his face.

"Hey," I said, gently taking both his hands in mine.  I lifted them to my
face and kissed them, then intertwined our fingers.  I only glanced briefly
down, but I could tell he had a lovely penis, darker than the rest of his
medium dark body, with midnight purple highlights.  His body was slim and
not especially built up yet, but the promise of future growth was there in
the ghost of a six pack, in the thin pads of his chest, sporting two dark,
small nipples.  His color was that beautiful Indian dark brown that seems
painted over a base of gold; it nearly glowed.

"Let's just hug for a while, OK?" I asked.  He gulped and nodded,
speechless, his breath now starting to pick up some and his penis slowly,
undeniably, beginning to crane out from his slim body.  My own penis was
well on its way to full erection as well.

Releasing our fingers I swept him into an embrace.  His head came to the
bottom of my chest. Both of us wrapped our arms around the other and
gently, slowly, began a little swaying, maybe pushing, as if dancing to
some unheard music.  Now I could feel both our penises hard between our
bodies, mine pushing against his abdomen, his against my thigh. He sighed
and laid his head flat against my chest.  We held that position for a
while, and I have to say, it felt really sweet.

Then I pulled away and with only a smile took his hand and led him to the
bed, both our penises now fully hard and bobbing.  We stretched out and I
adjusted my position for our different lengths, he with his penis now
pressing against my belly, mine against his legs.  "Do you like to kiss?" I
asked.  "Uh...I don't know" he said, with a look of embarrassment.

So I kissed his forehead, then both eyes, then his fine acquiline nose,
then his chin, and then lightly on the lips.  He kissed lightly back, and
then I escalated, gently sucking each of his full, rosebud lips in one by
one, then sliding my tongue into his mouth.  He was panting now, and as
soon as he learned the drill was returning each move with a copy of his
own. He was pressing his hard penis up against my belly, and I could sense
some precum slicking up the skin.

Suddenly he pulled away and gasped, "Oh, please hurry.  I don't know what's
happening, but I can't spill my seed yet."  I understood.  And so I gently
pushed him onto his back, slid my body up his, my ramrod penis now leaving
its own slick of precum on his dark skin, and gently put my penis to his
lips.  Looking now up at me and now down at my stiff penis right in front
of him, he opened his mouth and I slid in, not enough to choke him, but I
was in.  He groaned, and I began rocking back and forth, my palms on the
bed and my body arched up over his, looking down at the beautiful sight of
my rose penis sliding in and out of his dark brown face.  He hesitated and
then grabbed my butt with both hands, holding on for dear life as my
pumping increased, faster and faster, but never thrusting forward enough to
choke him.  And then I came, and man, was it sweet.  I cried, I groaned, I
shuddered, we both stopped as I filled his mouth with semen.  He hesitated
for a moment and then remembered the purpose of what we were doing, and
began gulping it down. As I shuddered to a close, he reached up with a hand
and milked my iron rod, slurping and swallowing until I was done.  When I
pulled out and collapsed half on the bed and half on him, I was drained.

We lay there a while, Richin rubbing my back and running his fingers
through my hair, and then I raised my head and asked, "Can you make sperm
now?"  And he nodded, enthusiastically but also gravely, that he could.
The time had come.

I slid up in bed and put a pillow under my head, then slid him up my body
until he was squatting with both knees on the sides of my chest, and with
my hands I pulled his bottom toward me and swallowed his penis.  I knew it
would not take long, and it did not.  He was so ready, so primed, that
within a minute he threw his head back, howled at the moon, and thrust
forward into my mouth.  I pumped him with my mouth, but did not swallow.
He bucked, he shuddered, and then slumped off to my side.

Turning toward him and cupping my palm, I spit his semen out into the palm.
There was not much, but it was unmistakably ripe, thick and milky white.
"That's yours," I said.  "That's what makes the babies."  He chortled with
joy, dipping his finger into the little pool and tasting it.  "Tastes like
yours," he said.  I nodded yes, and then sucked the little pool back up and
swallowed it.  "Now something that was me is part of you, and something
that was part of you is part of me," I said.  He looked grave and then
happy and nodded, smiling, and hugged me tightly.  We remained like that
for what seemed like a long time, then rose, showered together, and
dressed.  I loaned him an old tie to keep his robe closed.  We sat on the
sofa in my living room, he on my lap or between my legs, and watched
baseball, happily hugging and drinking sodas, until the doorbell rang.

Richin sprang up and beat me to the door, greeting his parents with a
beatific smile.  They returned it, and absolutely beamed as I came up
behind him.  "Success, I think," I said, and they both congratulated Richin
and thanked me.  I gave Richin a hug and a quick peck on the lips, and then
they moved down the sidewalk.  But after a few feet, Abay turned to me with
a thoughtful expression.

"You know," he said, "We have another son about to turn eleven."


Comments welcome: lokiaga@austin.rr.com

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