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more often than not. At 48 I could still reel them in. I was fit, younger-looking than my age (so they said), and could fuck for hours. But these days hooking up online is easier. No getting ready to go out, no travelling, and no posing. An hour after the opening line he’s at the door. But still, I never search and only answer messages from others. My reticence at moving first never worked against me thankfully, and I’ve managed to suck kilometres of handsome cock from one end of India to the other.

    But with Shahid I was in unfamiliar territory. Even if he was interested, and that was far from certain, I was sure he wouldn’t move first. I was his guest, and the Islamic code of hospitality, though indulgent, bears a formality that bars certain interactions between host and guest. Sex for one. But since I started thinking for myself in my early teens, cultural and societal barriers stood to be jumped. My challenge was to find a way to get Shahid on board, but for him to come to me. The hug and rub we started with earlier in the day was sexy enough, but his scent was now filling my lungs as we sat together, and lust and desire were in my blood.
    At his side and knowing he was now legal to fantasize over, I wondered what he did with all the testosterone twenty-year-olds are famous for, while thinking that he wasn’t allowed to use his dick for anything beyond pissing until he got married. Knowing too that young men don’t always behave as they’re commanded, my roving imagination led me into fantasizing how he might be dicking on the sly. It was inconceivable to me that a guy that divine, in his sexual prime, would be using his piece only to piss. I began to fixate on what it looked like: shape, size, and colour. That he was cut was certain. Did it curve upwards, to one side, downwards like a hook, or was it as straight as an arrow? Did it have a mushroom head or was it more like a plum? Was it thicker somewhere along the shaft or at the base? How would it smell and taste, if I could get my mouth on it? Don’t young and horny guys just want their dicks sucked, with who’s doing it a minor point of concern? My own cock began to stir. I stealthily stole a glimpse at his zipper. Not exactly the bulge I had hoped for, but there was a definite knob pushing through his jeans, which is more than most guys are able to show when you sneak a glance, hoping for a big surprise, and then wonder, disillusioned, where it could possibly be. I lost myself in my meanderings. Shahid had to have caught me checking him out.

    My phone rang. Mahmood’s name was blinking. I excused myself and took the call inside.
    ‘How’s it going? Having fun with the baby?’
    I was defensive. ‘He’s good company. He can talk about more things than before. He’s mature . We went out on the lake and now we’re hanging out in the back. But no, I’m not having fun . Not yet. Very soon.’
    Mahmood was taken aback. ‘So you are trying to get him into bed.’ There was a hint of scorn in his voice. ‘You want him.’
    ‘Let me put it this way, honey love. I’d eat his ass, swallow his dick, and drink his piss if he asked me.’
    ‘You’re depraved.’
    ‘You’ll see how much tomorrow,’ I taunted. ‘But don’t worry about tonight. He was talking to me about the girls at his college when we were out on the lake. I’m sure he’s not gay.’
    ‘But curious,’ he countered.
    ‘Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll do my best recruiting.’
    ‘Dirty dog.’
    ‘Woof. Now put your dick back in your pants and stop masturbating over me. Behave, and tomorrow you get the real deal.’
    ‘Bloody fool. You wish. Have fun.’ I thought he’d hung up. But no, he’d only hesitated. ‘And bring me a good story.’

    I wanted a story, badly since the meditation on his cock. But the affection Shahid and I were sharing could well have been understood by him as the simple camaraderie between mates which Kashmiri men are known for. But the twist here was