Erotica: Beyond Balconies Part 1

[Editor’s Note: This story is a part of a two part erotic piece.Find Part 2 here.]

I guess my loneliness brought me here. Sometimes, no amount of porn, hours on gay social networking sites and random internet surfing on various issues related to homosexuality can quench your thirst for something that is missing; maybe a company, maybe you yourself, lost in what world wants you to be and what you are. Maybe that brought me to my roots; a search of my own self. To the balcony of my old home.

It seems like yesterday when I used to spend a lot of time here. I was not a naughty kid, I remember. But I did have some quirks. I cannot remember when it started, it has been with me for as long as I can remember, I guess. But one thing I do remember, for sure, is that that this Balcony was the place where it originated. Balcony was that space that connected me to the outer world while still providing a safe haven to me to perform such activities. It was the time when I didn’t need porn to satisfy myself. I had a much interesting game in my mind those days. I remember how I used to strip myself to underwear and used to walk in the balcony acting all shy, hiding my bulge and that area of my buttocks which used to come out of my teen underwear or maybe I used to expose it before hand to make the show sexier and let men see what a bomb I was.

There was no ulterior motive of sex, I just loved the way it felt to be exposed, a little humiliated, a humiliation linked to pleasure in a way that cannot be expressed in words. I was an Exhibitionist. Now, we have a label and a word for everything, but then, I had no idea that it was some kind of fetish. For me, it was one game I couldn’t get enough of. Whether it was hot Delhi summer afternoon or chilly winter night, nothing used to stop me from giving my audience a little show they wanted. Some had a really good time. Some laughed at me which gave me equal pleasure nonetheless, actually more, if anything.

I remember how I used to incorporate my creativity to my exhibitionism, a different scene every time, from coming out in balcony in towel to hang my underwear for drying in sun and dropping my towel by mistake to playing in torn underwear from front and back, I tried all. From bathing in rains in only white worn out vest and nothing beneath to wearing an extremely loose underwear which dropped every time a man came into the sight, by mistake, of course. Generally, it was followed by a humiliated and shocked expression on my face and either a hearty laugh or a humiliating laugh (my favorite one) or a sexy look from the spectator. I classified various laughter, each pleasured me to some extent but a sexy look or an open invitation to sex was something which I could not comprehend at that time. I had this fetish but I never wanted to go for sex, maybe I wasn’t aware of it fully at that time.

Born and brought up in colony in Delhi had its own advantages. You meet people of all kinds, from the ultra modern to unbelievably orthodox. And my audience too belonged to this varied range. And the planning of colony also aided me in my fantasies; as all the roof were visible to each other and all of them had different kind of men. Yes men, I never liked showing off to women. Obviously, Because I was Gay. My diverse audience gave me all possible reactions and nurtured the exhibitionist in me.

But eventually, I started learning that this was not a ‘normal’ behavior, the word ‘normal’ which still irritates me a lot as it takes my freedom away of defining things and it rather imposed things on me. The frequency and intensity of my exhibitionism started fading quickly when a lady complained blatantly about my shows to my mother, who was fiercely protective about me and blamed the lady herself for eyeing on his young son. But I knew what I used to do, realizing, for the first time in my life, that my family’s reputation could be at stake because of my behavior, I quickly restrained myself from such behavior. And very soon, I was out of it. But sexual creativity is like energy, it can neither be created nor destroyed and can only be converted. And so happened, now I, started looking out for men for sex, beyond balcony.

I was extremely protective about myself then and moreover the usual sex never interested me much. So, I was never like a usual teenager running for sex, however I was dangerously curious. Trying to know about different kinds of sex, as if trying to understand everything about existence, this whole universe through SEX. And believe me or not, a lot of questions can actually be answered through sex. It helped me a lot in growing up to be a very modern, open and learned man, which I’d like to call myself now.

Other thing that contributed in making me what I am now are all the affairs I had after I moved out of Balcony. School affairs, tuition affairs, colony affairs and all of them taught me something about life. All of those men, I still remember by name, they all had a peculiar characteristic which made them so special to me. I was so in love with all of them. I didn’t even care if they loved me or not. The world was red for me. It was a spring season in my life. God! I miss those days.

And now when I am 25, I feel old. I miss my naivety and innocence. But I look hotter now, I thought to myself seeing my own reflection in the balcony window mirror along the with dark grey clouds in the background only adding to my beautiful rough man image; roughened and tanned by the outdoor construction work I am currently involved in.

I always feel so poetic when there are dark grey clouds above me, as if I am that bird that makes a mating call whenever there is rainy weather. For once, I thought of checking the Grindr, but then I thought to myself that there is nothing in there that I haven’t seen before and then I dropped the idea. And I looked above as if trying to ask the clouds where is the one who will answer my call. My call for soul mate usually was unheard by the universe. And maybe this time too, it will be the same.

As I was growing depressed by thinking about the same pattern in my life and its loneliness. I felt as if I was being watched from behind; it must be those kids who came to their roof with the thunder, in the hope of rain quenching their thirst for fun. As I looked behind, there was a face I knew, but I couldn’t recognize it. He smiled and I responded. Before I could think who he was, my attention went straight to where it shouldn’t have, but it was a huge bulge. It is such a privilege in such colonies in Delhi where you can roam in your roof in your fawn colored V-shaped underwear and no one will raise an eyebrow. The posh colony where I stayed now, such a view, which was right in front of me, would have been a scandal. Scandal, big enough, to remain in the news for months. Anyway, he was looking so hot in his white worn out vest and a fawn colored worn out V-shaped underwear loose in the thighs area but so swollen and tight at the penis area. Something told me that this V-shape underwear will be really V from rear side. I could tell this only from seeing the front side.

It has been three seconds now that I have been staring at his bulge, as I turned my gaze to his face, he smiled and pulled his underwear up and said that he wanted to take bath in the rain, as if explaining himself for his this look. All it did to me was that it took my breath away as I saw his monster moving from center to one side and literally one inch from coming out of the worn out fabric. I smiled and replied that its perfectly alright, which it definitely was. And somehow, I blurted out that I was here for the same reason and I started opening my jeans. Suddenly, I realised what have I done, I wasn’t wearing the usual underwear, I was wearing a white bikini, a very skimpy bikini, I remembered. There was no backing off now, his eyes eagerly awaited it seemed, to see what was beneath my pants. I, somehow, took the step and pulled my black vest down in a failed attempt to cover up. He saw it and there was a role reversal, he became the voyeur and I became the exhibitionist. But unlike me he wasn’t a shy voyeur, he was all out about it. He was continuously eyeing my bulge as even a simple movement resulted in a bounce in my bulge thanks to the bouncy lycra fabric it had. I started praying that may he never comments on what he was seeing. But to my dismay, he did. He said, “tumhare kachi ka fit kaafi sahi dikhe hai” (Your underwear seems to be well fitted). I just stood smiling.

He suddenly turned and bent down only as if he was listening to my prayers of showing me his rear side. I knew he wouldn’t disappoint me, it was a V from rear side as narrow a V possible in that underwear. For a slim guy, it was rather a muscular ass eating up a lot of fabric inside his bum cleavage and showing up a large area of his dark tanned tight muscular buttocks. Shit! this time he noticed me doing it, staring at his butt. He didn’t seem happy about it. He seemed as if he wanted to strip me for such obscene behavior or maybe I was drowning in my own childhood fantasy in the place, so well knitted with my childhood fantasies- my balcony.

He pulled out the fabric from cleavage as if he didn’t like my eyes roaming so casually around there. I said, trying to break the sexually charged up atmosphere from building further up, “Its gonna rain a lot today!” He finally smiled and nodded. He asked me if I knew and remember him. I apologized and replied that I didn’t. He laughed and reminded me that he was my barber’s son, “Amit Bhaiya” as I used to call him, he was 3 years older than me, unmarried and a muscular hunk. He added with pride, “Ab apna salon khol liya hai!” (I own a salon now).

He told me that he still remembered those days when I bathed in the rains, only in white vest and I was about 13 years old then and how small my penis looked. I grew red in embarrassment and a familiar humiliation engulfed me and those words stirred an excitement, I haven’t felt since long. This reaction was translated rather violently by my body as I had an immediate erection and pre-ejaculate started oozing out. I dared not look up at Amit Bhaiya, but something told me that he was looking at my body’s reaction to his statement. Amit was looking, rather with much more interest than I ever anticipated. He said, “tab toh bhut chota tha, chotu! Ab kaise ho?” (You had a very small penis then, are you still small?) I was going wild, hearing all these words, as if at any point I could explode. I wanted to run away, as what I was feeling inside could not remain hidden from him for long then.

He could sense it by then that how my reputation and everything was in his hands then and he loved how he could control the whole situation. He didn’t stop there, he decided to shame me more, it seemed like he was loving it, as if he was taking revenge from me for staring at his butt earlier. Although unlike me, he was merciless. He commented, “teri kachi safed hai, bheeg kar lulli dikha jaegi sabko” (Your underwear is white, it will become transparent in rain and showcase my small penis to the whole world). I thought to myself that it was not a small penis anymore, but my large size will only cause me more humiliation.

Suddenly, he looked everywhere and jumped into my balcony. I was at verge of exploding then, my hard-on was clearly visible in black vest also, there was no way I could have kept it hidden in anything then. He was laughing now looking at me, he said, “dikhaiye zara chotu!” (Show me what you have got now, kiddo!). He pulled up my vest forcefully up to my nipples. My underwear was stretched to its limit and he laughed his heart out. Before I could say or even assimilate this highly sexually moment. He did the unthinkable; he grabbed my penis tightly as if to make some funny comment. But before he could say anything, I exploded, right there in his hands, gush after gush, my breath then became loud moans. I saw some kids looking at our balcony. And, in perfect synchronization, rain burst into thundershowers. Not even for once, he loosened his grip, at first he seemed shocked, then I saw the creepiest smile possible on his face followed by a comment, “arey bhai ruk, pakadte he paani chhod dia, chotu, hahaha!” (Stop man! You ejaculated on single touch, kiddo, hahaha!). I was never humiliated this much in my life, the setting could not have been perfect than it was, in my Balcony.

Rain was then at its peak. He was right; my underwear became see-through then and full of semen too. He was still having a wicked expression as if it had only started. Other teen boys were looking at my balcony, they witnessed the most ecstatic moment of my life, some of them couldn’t care less about it while some did, it seemed they understood what just happened. However, they couldn’t comprehend totally what happened. One day, they will, I knew. Just like, I did then, after so many years, at the same place where it originated.

Amit laughed again and commented, “Abey chutiye, gandi kachi me khada rahega, kachi toh khol de saale” (Hey, you stupid, will you bathe in this dirty underwear now, take it off, idiot!) This time, I comprehended the change in his tone now, it seemed very commanding and controlling now. And I also found myself in a very vulnerable and shameful position. I didn’t understand how to reply and what to do. I just nodded. “Arey dimlight, khol !” (Open it, you dimwit!), he shouted and with a single pull, I was NAKED! My underwear reached my knees, raindrops were then pouring from my glans. A teenager looked and laughed at it. Amit, relentless in his pursuit, still held and then pulled my semen-filled underwear until it was completely separated from my body. It felt like something that I awaited since my birth, happened. I felt like exploding again, but it was one dry orgasm wetter than I ever had. I felt like I was finally undone and each part of me merged with the nature. I was left in my black vest.

Amit, excitedly, saw myriad of emotions coming on my face and stood there in awe. For a moment, I saw Amit and it seemed like he understood what I was going through. But how would a man with such humble background can understand this complicated fetish I had since childhood, I argued in my mind. My eyes wandered, almost naturally from his face to his genital area which seemed swollen then. There was nothing hidden about his arousal now. I was in some trance like state where I just wanted to be stripped. Stripped, until I was Naked. So naked that each and every part of me which I have kept hidden for so long from the world, from the face of the earth, comes to the surface. And Nature comes to know about me, accepts me and loves me to the core.

He quietly watched my body as I removed my vest which seemed like a burden at that point. He uttered, “ye hui na baat, chotu!” (Now you did the right thing, kiddo!). I felt like I transitioned back to my childhood from adulthood with those words and his magical gaze at my body. I felt water pouring all over my body, but each droplet passing through my intimate area, my butthole, my penis, my testicles, the area between, the sensations there seemed magnified. My buttocks tightened as the beautifully cold water tickled me at all the wrong places. I felt a hand there, as if, in an attempt to provide some solace to those muscles from cold. His hand, huge enough, to cup my left buttock into his hand, did so, as if they belonged to him. As if all my intimates were his to play with, I felt owned and yet safe.

Teenagers and kids were busy having fun in the rain while some stared at this rendezvous between two grown men, one stark naked and other having erection popping out from his underwear. Two of them, I remember, stared right at us. I couldn’t see their expressions clearly due to the rain and distance between them and us. I never thought that even my most ecstatic moment will be viewed by an audience.

Amit, finally, broke the silence, “Main bhi chhootne wala hun, bachpan me bhi tujhe balcony me dekhkar chhodta tha” (I am also about to ejaculate now, in my childhood days also, I used to ejaculate seeing you in the balcony). For a second, I felt like this is a dream, but those raindrops and his hand clenching my buttock, made me realize that it’s a reality beautiful than a dream. I could not believe he knew me since childhood, he knew my fantasies, he knew the real me, he used to see me and I felt acknowledged, for the first time. I parted my lips to ask him if he did see me all the while in childhood in my balcony. He nodded his head affirmatively holding on to his penis. My hands went directly to his penis, in gratitude, to return the favour he did to me. He reciprocated by filling my hands with semen from his underwear only, while some remained inside the fabric, some came out. But my eyes went straight to his face, where the most beautiful image was waiting to reveal itself. I realised how beautiful his face was, his wet beard, dark thin lips, deep dark brown eyes surrounded by eyelashes that can put the women to shame. His strong jaw and perfectly black hair were making my heart beat faster. His eyes circling up and down with the pleasure, he was receiving through my hands. I smiled as if wanting those eyes to stop moving and look deep into my eyes which long awaited to be seen by such eyes. And, in the day, where everything was possible, this happened too. He looked at me as he ejaculated his last droplets with a smile. A smile, world rarely allows us to have, a smile that comes with an acknowledgement that someone knows us, loves us and wants us. He scanned my face, maybe with the same detail with which I did.

I moved my eyes to see if someone was still looking at us. But nobody was there and raindrops also reduced in their numbers. I was still naked and he stood in cum filled underwear. I returned the favor by removing his underwear seeing his thick, dark still-dripping-semen penis. He didn’t say anything. I took it and my clothes too and put them into our old washing machine. We were inside then. He asked me, “What do you do?”. I told him, “I am an architect”. He felt happy and proud of what I became. I saw it was night by then. So many hours passed by, I thought. I gave him my shorts. He was a little hesitant in leaving and so was I. I wanted to confess my love for him. Should I kiss?, I thought. I walked but could only hug him. He hugged me so tightly. I fell in love. I was flying almost. We smiled and left. I felt as if I should have confessed my love.

I felt impatient. I felt incomplete. I just wanted to see him again. I did not even have his mobile number. When will I see him again? I thought to myself. I blushed thinking how his beard tickled me when our cheeks brushed with each other while hugging. I thought of how he smiled at my quirky side when I was naked in front of him. Tired from the day’s exertions, I was lulled into the sleep by such romantic thoughts. After a long time, I felt at peace.


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