Ashok Uncle - My first Gay experience
I guess it all began during that summer of covid in 2020. Thankfully, my college life had been spared the worst of the corona wave. I had graduated before campuses locked down and switched to ‘zoom classes’. I spent four years in college as an introverted, timid, almost invisible boy. With a soft voice, with no distinct personality or charisma to speak of. Thankfully, I was 21 and had managed to secure a medium-paying job. But, thanks to the lockdown, my reporting date had been deferred by eighteen months. I had no distinct interests or hobbies (except a passing interest in yoga). I was, as many people were during that time, bored out of my mind. I spent my entire day scrolling through Netflix. I was reading senseless forwards on a dozen WhatsApp groups and occasionally going for walks. It was during this time that he moved into the flat opposite mine. A tall, slightly overweight man in his early fifties, with a full head of silver hair, a silver-black goatee, and a distinct pair of sunken but kind eyes. After the first few days of eye contact, he recognized me as the boy next door. He smiled at me as I came and went. I began smiling and nodding back after a few more days. I overheard my mother gossip with the other neighbours that Ashok ‘uncle’ lived alone. He kept to himself and didn’t cook (so many Swiggy deliveries). He worked in a senior position (VP+) in a prominent IT firm. One of my windows overlooked him, and I gathered that he slept late. The light in his bedroom stayed on until past 3 every day. My first real interaction with him began with a knock on my door. I opened it, and there stood a man in an orange shirt, a Swiggy delivery boy. “This is for B11. He’s not opening the door,” he said. In one fluid movement, he had transferred the bag from his hand to mine and sped off. Just as he disappeared around the landing, the door to B11 opened and out came Ashok uncle. He was speaking in a torrent of Tamil, “Naan Dhaan varen nu kathunen la! (I said I was coming!).” He stopped and looked at me. “Oh… So you work for Swiggy now?” He grinned. I automatically giggled almost girlishly as I handed him the bag. He examined the bag and swore. “He wouldn’t wait for me, and he’s given me the wrong order. Looks like he’s given me two thali meals instead of one plate of chapathi.” “Oh… umm…” was all that I said. “I heard you’re waiting for a reporting letter from XXXXXX.” “Yes, uncle,” I said. “Good place to start your career. Did Kaalidas interview you?” “Yes, uncle! You know him?” “I know a lot of people in the field, pa. Want to join me? I can’t eat two Thali meals on my own.” “I already ate, uncle. Maybe some other time.” I often wonder what would’ve happened if I had accepted his invitation that night. Would he have made a move? Our next interaction was a bit more… ummm… physical. We had gotten into the lift together (our flat still has one of those old lifts with a chain door that rattles as it closes). We smiled and nodded as he punched the button for our floor. Before the lift could begin its upward journey, one of the housemaids who worked in the building got in. Instantly, he moved across the space that separated us. He pressed his full body on mine, moving as far away from the old lady as possible. Before I could even breathe, he whispered in my ear, pressing into me from behind. “I heard her husband got Covid last week.” His lips were almost touching my earlobe. I felt goose-pimples erupt along the nape of my neck. I felt his musk around me – a potent mix of sweat, brut and old spice. I was still a virgin. My only sexual experiences had been in the shower with my soapy hands jerking my hard dick to orgasm. I had never been attracted to men and… The maid got off on the second floor. As she did, he put his arms around me from behind, hugging me with those two big tree trunks. He was much taller than me. I felt his crotch squish into the small of my back. He pressed his lips into the back of my neck playfully and said, “Now, if we get it, we’ll get it together.” I squirmed and tried to wriggle my way out of his hug while making his crotch grow harder and harder. My eyes widened as a rock-hard pole pressed into my back. When our floor arrived, he let me go, grinning as I ran away shyly. I was a raging mess of hormones and lust for a few hours until everyone at home went to sleep. I masturbated to sleep under the covers, the feeling of his large manly body mashing against mine still fresh in my mind. I woke up the next morning feeling a bit silly. I hadn’t thought of Tamannah, Samantha, or any other sexy woman on TV while masturbating last night. I had thought of Ashok uncle, the man who lived across from me, who was old enough to be my father (who, by the way, lived and worked overseas). I shook my head as I picked up my yoga mat and headband and went to the terrace. I loved going through my routine early in the morning – in the cool morning air. I unfurled the mat and began stretching. Wearing thigh-length shorts and a sleeveless tank top that ended just above my midriff. I heard the terrace door open, and Ashok’s uncle walked in. He was wearing a loose t-shirt and a dhoti. “I can hear you now. My signal is quite good here,” He waved at me and continued talking business – forecasts, projections, timelines etc. I continued through my routine. The doggy poses with my ass up and down. Raised arm poses that exposed my smooth armpits and flat stomach. Leg stretches that raised my loose shorts to the level of my crotch, and so on. Twenty minutes later, I was covered with a thin sheen of shiny sweat when he finally hung up and walked up to me. I was lying down with my arms above my head. He stood over me and said, “Oh. So you’re a yoga master.” I giggled and shook my head, “Edho konjam theriyum (I know a little).