Bisexual Sex Stories – Threesome In Mumbai

Mumbai is not India.

I know, I’ve been to other parts of it over the years, and even lived in Delhi as a young boy.

Mumbai, in Maharashtra province, is a part of India trying to be something else, yet somehow cannot break free from its Indian roots (nor should it).

It is barely 10 in the morning as I walk along Madame Cama Road, and already the heat is blistering. Besides the people all around me, I see nothing to indicate that I’m in an Indian city.

Mumbai is not only the film capital of the country, it is also a major economic hub; so those who come here are most often other Indians from distant parts, looking for opportunities… a few hoping to strike gold and become the next Bollywood phenomenon.

Foreigners do not stay here long unless they are here to work, or are here on short term business.

Tourists?

Few and far between, though I am one of them.

Most come here merely as a stopping point on their way to other, more “exotic” parts of India.

I’m staying at the YWCA, and while there are a few other foreigners there, most are Indians, also on their way to somewhere else.

I, on the other hand, am back in my room, and will not leave it till it gets a bit cooler.

Outside one of my windows (I have a corner room), is another building whose street façade is very deceiving:

Its frontage is somewhat Indian, but trees cover most of it from sight.

My alleyway view, however, tells an entirely different story, as what faces me is a stone building with intricately carved windows shaped in the Moghul style: scalloped, arched tops, surrounded by an intricate frame of stone flowers and vines.

I have a balcony, as well, which faces Madame Cama Road itself, and that view tells yet another story.

I see modern, low rise buildings which typify this great city.

Passing below me now to my right are three Indian men (at least they look Indian) dressed in three-piece suits (in this heat!?). They look well-tailored; no doubt brand names grace their bodies.

Walking toward them are two women in saris: one bright red with gold-like embroidery; the other a simpler, but luminescent green with splashes of blue.

At the halfway point between the two walking groups is a man dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, but with a dirty white turban on his head. He sells sugar cane juice, and his advertising sign is written in both Roman characters as well as Devanagari ones.

This heat is taking its toll again, so I move back into my room and drink the Limca I bought on the way back here.

Limca is an Indian lime-flavored soft drink. Its flavor is very strong, and takes some getting used to; but this is India, and I would have been disappointed had it tasted any less powerful.

Imagine if you will, a 7-UP or a Sprite. Concocted by Indians FOR Indians. Up that flavor spike ten-fold, and you just might have some idea of what a Limca not only tastes like, but feels like.

It’s a very sensory experience, you see?

In another hour, the heat should be even more bearable, and I doubt those men will be as comfortable unless they get indoors.

There is a bus tour later this afternoon, which will start at the Gateway to India monument, near where the massacres took place in 2008.

But for now, a nap.

– – – – – – – – – –

I’m on the bus struggling to ooh and aah over stuff I’ve seen before, trying to be polite in front of the other Indians who are somewhat impressed by the stuff being pointed out to us.

I notice the other foreigners are not as good at hiding their own disappointment, because Mumbai is just not the place where you’ll see elephants and ancient palaces, with some exceptions.

Next to me (…well, they’re separated by an aisle, see?) is a young couple I’d say about my age (… ok, maybe a little younger, alright!? Work with me here!), who are giving me a heart-attack just from their profiles alone.

The woman looks like a younger, Indian version of Kim Kardashian with brains and a personality, though how I’d know that since I haven’t talked to her yet, I don’t know…

But I have very good instincts about stuff like this, see?

She’s sitting on the window seat opposite my own.

Between us is this gorgeous god who looks like a slimmer, less muscular version of Tim Lebow if he had darker skin, a more angular face, and an 8 o’clock shadow. But if he starts preaching to me, so help me god, I will die.

Anyway, since the stuff the tour guides are showing us is not worth the trip, I get to watch the two on my left, using anything on their side of the bus as an excuse to look at the back of their heads. Not so good.

Fortunately, there are enough things ahead of us to my left that I could drool over their profiles.

I’m not too happy when stuff appears on the right side of our bus, because then I have no excuse to be looking over at them, though it gives them a lovely view of the back of my head.

At any rate, we have to get down often enough to look at some modern building or park, or whatever else have you, so I got the chance to chat up the two, who it turns out are newlyweds.

Now, someone else looking at them would have sworn they weren’t, because they hardly talked to each other the entire time.

As I said, however, I’ve been here before, so I understand the cause: they had had an arranged marriage. Hey, to each their own, eh?

If it were me, I’d have been deliriously happy to have been arranged to marry Sanju (that’s the girl’s name), or to Arjun (the guy), but gay marriage is still limited to only a few countries, worse luck.

Still, guys like me, we don’t take stuff like that too personally, because… well, surely there’s no need to spell it out, eh?

So the rest of that tour becomes the three of us, and I manage to pull out all the charms, gods be praised (when in India, after all), and I have these two laughing and smiling with me like we’re old friends.

What a lovely trio we make.

Anyway, the awful tour finally ends, and he tells me he has to take care of some business, and would I mind staying with Sanju for a while since I already know something about Mumbai?

And I’m thinking: would I love to be rich? Umm… YES!

So I drag Sanju to Jazz by the Bay, a jazz club and restaurant not too far off, yapping about young love and all, and by the time we’re ready to order, the poor dear’s not looking too happy.

“Oh dear,” I fuss. “Are you alright? What’s wrong Sanju? Come here,” pulling her to me in a tender hug. My, but what large jugs she has there, let me tell you.

Apparently, on their wedding night when they were supposed to consummate their marriage (oh don’t give me that puzzled look, you know exactly what I’m talking about), Arjun couldn’t get it up.

Crap.

Now, in Indian culture, if anything like this happens, they always blame the woman, see? So you can just imagine what pressure this puts on Sanju, who has been not-so-happily married for all of three whole days, including this one.

So I start asking her all sorts of questions, and I don’t know why, but she starts answering them (it’s a talent, I know).

I tell her it could just be the pressure of the arranged marriage and all, and we make our way back to her hotel, the best of friends and all.

The next morning, the staff here at the Y tell me I have a phone call. No phones in the rooms, see? Budget traveler here.

I get on the phone, still in my robe, and it’s Sanju, asking me if I could meet up with her for breakfast at her hotel. Well, that woke me up!

So here I am in the Oberoi, sitting in the lavish lounge, nervously looking around to see if any Pakistani Muslims pop up to repeat the massacre, when Sanju walks up to me.

While I’m delighted to see her, I’m delighted even more to see Arjun with her. Now I’m really wide awake, and my neck’s getting stiff from all the back and forth my head’s doing since I can’t make up my mind which eye-candy I’d rather focus on.

Except that he’s not smiling at me, see? And I’m wondering: what the hell?

Apparently, Sanju told him last night what we talked about at the resto-bar, and he’s not too happy. I mean, can you blame him? No man wants his wife telling another guy he’s a limp noodle, yeah?

Awkward!

But apparently, he’s interested in what I have to say, so here I am wondering: what DO I say?

So I go into my spiel about how they’ve just met, that they don’t know anything about each other, and how it must put some kind of pressure on him, and not to worry. All they need to do is to give it some time.

So Arjun looks at his wife, she nods, pats me on the hand with a smile, gets up, and leaves.

Oh dear, what now?

He leans back in his chair, looks at me, opens his mouth, shuts it, and looks away.

“I take it there’s another problem?” I inquire.

“The problem is that I haven’t actually done it before.”

I’m in shock. I mean, are you seriously kidding me!? The way this guy looks!? I’m normally good at hiding my feelings, but clearly not this time, because he gives me a resigned and embarrassed nod.

Well, you don’t encounter this every day! At least I don’t.

So, here I am, asking him what he knows about a woman’s body, shutting up every time a server or another guest (or guests) comes near, and I’m growing more and more alarmed at this guy’s ignorance.

I mean, seriously!?

“Not even with a devadasi?” I ask. They’re these sacred prostitutes attached to some of the older, more conservative temples. They’re not cheap, let me tell you, and I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea, but hey, it’s not my culture, yeah?

But the way I figure, this couple clearly comes from a very well-to-do family, what with them staying here at the Oberoi, and all, but he’s shaking his head again, unable to look at me.

The poor dear!

“Can I ask you a favor?” He asks me, looking even more uncomfortable again.

So I’m thinking he’s wanting me to hook him up with one. Like I’d know how to, yeah? I mean, I’m staying at the Y, right?

“I don’t have any connections, not being Hindu myself,” I reply. “Plus, I’m not even sure this city even has one of those temples.”

“I’m not interested in one of them. I’m hoping you can show me.”

Well.

This is interesting.

I mean, this is the stuff dreams are made up of, yeah? But I find myself really starting to like this guy, and he’s no longer just anyone, see?

Ditto for Sanju.

I mean, you can feel lust at first sight with some man or woman you’ve never met, but once you get to know them, and find yourself liking them, they’re no longer just piss pots and protrusions, you know what I’m saying?

You can go wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am or sir, for that matter, but when they’re no longer strangers…

I’m not like that. I’m no saint, but I’d like to think that I have some core of decency in me. My problem is that I can’t just always walk away…

Though admittedly, not everyone else has that same issue when it comes to me, sigh.

“Do you know what it is you’re asking me, Arjun?”

“I’m asking you to show me how to please my wife.”

I look up to see Sanju sitting on a corner sofa, not 10 meters away from us, and ask him if she knows what it is he wants me to do.

“Yes,” he replies. “In fact, she wants to be there, too.”

Well. That’s not a request you get every day, now is it?

I extend my hand to her, so she joins us, looking as nervous as she did yesterday when we talked.

Before she reaches our table, however, Arjun gets up and moves away toward the lobby, and she joins him.

I’m still sitting here in shock, when they meet up, stop, then turn around to look back at me, a “well, you coming or not?” look on their faces.

I did say I cared about them both, didn’t I?

I am amazed at the sheer beauty of their room. It’s not actually a room, so much as an apartment, and Arjun goes straight into one of them. I follow, and it turns out to be a bedroom.

“What do I do?” He asks me.

I look back at Sanju, who takes her place at a chair beside the bed, looking up at me, looking very uncomfortable.

“Are you sure this is something you want to do?” I ask both of them.

“If nothing happens,” says Sanju, “they will blame me. My family and his. I can’t allow that to happen.”

Arjun walks up to her and takes her hand in his. He looks up at me and tells me they’ve tried since their wedding night. He expresses his fears that he might be impotent.

“When you woke up this morning, Arjun, did you have a hard-on?”

Sanju nods, unable to take her eyes away from the floor.

“But when you and Sanju try to do it, nothing?”

They both can’t look at me, still holding hands. Well, that answers that, eh?

Understand that I’ve been with both men and women, both separately and together, but not like this.

I must admit, I’m feeling extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable, now. But Sanju looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes of hers, and says “please…”

Well, let it not be said I don’t have a heart.

I hold out my hand to Arjun, who lets go of Sanju’s, and walks up to me.

When he’s standing before me, I position us both so Sanju can see us where she’s still sitting.

I put my hand under his chin, making him look up at me. He meets my eyes, but is definitely looking uncomfortable.

I meet his lips with mine, and he stiffens.

Taking my time, I rub my lips very gently against his, not actually kissing him, just rubbing them with my own. I stick my tongue out and start licking them, when he starts to tremble a bit.

I start to kiss him full on the lips when, with a moan, he grabs me to him and starts pushing himself against my face, bashing my lips against my teeth.

I pull back, and he stops. I look at Sanju who’s staring at us with wide eyes, mouth agape in shock.

I look back at gorgeous one who’s panting really hard now. I can feel his hard-on against my jeans, and he’s still holding onto me.

I put my hands on either side of his head and start to kiss him again, and he responds slowly, clumsily, at first, before getting aggressive again, when I pull back.

We do this a few more times, before he gets it. Go slow. Go very slow. Man, this feels so good.

When he starts developing a rhythm, and I’m confident he’s not going to bite my face off, I slip my tongue into his mouth, which gets another moan out of him.

He meets my tongue hesitantly, gently, and starts to get the feel for this. So much better now. A kiss between true gentlemen. I reluctantly pull away, and gesture Sanju to join us.

But she is shaking her head, still looking at us in shock.

So I start unbuttoning his clothes, and am pleased at the muscles this one has. Brown skin, hairless chest with a trail of fine hair starting at just below his navel, snaking its way down into his pants.

He could do with a bit more work on his abs to increase their definition, but there’s no flab on this one.

I take his right nipple in my mouth, and he gasps, holding onto my arms. I squeeze his other nipple with my fingers, enjoying the slight aureole of hair that surrounds each.

From his right nipple, I tongue my way to the ridge between his chest, slowly making my way down to his navel. As soon as I stick my tongue into it, he gasps as if I had punched him.

Nice.

Kneeling, I unzip his pants, and he’s hyperventilating now. Beneath, he’s wearing tight, white briefs, and from the bulge its making, I can tell he’s not impotent.

I rub my face against that bulge, and he puts his hands on either side of my head, fucking my face with his groin. I push him back, looking up at him firmly, and he gets it, backing off.

I pull down those briefs and his brown cock comes out. I’m impressed by the width of it. Taking it in my hands, my fingers just barely meet my thumb, and it sticks out slightly more than an inch out beyond my hand.

There’s already pre-cum forming at the tip which I lick off. That gets another moan out of him, and this time when I gesture at Sanju, she gets up and joins me there on the floor.

I stick my tongue tip into his urethral opening, and Arjun jerks as if I had just punched him again. I guide that cock toward Sanju, who takes it hesitatingly in her hand.

Holding the base of his cock with my left hand, I use my right hand to guide her head down onto it.

Only now, she’s suddenly eager and tries to take the whole thing in, coughing as his tip pushes against her throat.

She backs off, tears starting to form at her eyes. Still holding Arjun’s cock, I guide her back toward it, slowing her down when she speeds up. Satisfied she has the rhythm of it, I make my way to his balls, taking one in my mouth, while my other hand snakes its way up his stomach.

I pull his pants down to his ankles and make him step away from it. I gently pull Sanju up, and lead them both to the king sized bed with the gold spread on it.

Sanju starts taking off the long shirt and baggy pants she’s wearing, which they call a khameez and shalwar, not as shy anymore, before removing the lingerie she’s wearing.

She is beautiful, and those jugs were not the result of any physician’s knife.

I’d love to kiss her, but am still wary of Arjun. They’re both fully naked now, while I’m still clothed, still wary of my place among them.

I motion both of them on the bed, and Arjun gets in first, scooting over to make room for Sanju. Kneeling beside her, I take one of her nipples into my mouth, making motions to Arjun to do the same with the other.

She gasps and starts to moan. He moves up to kiss her, being gentle with her as I was with him. This leaves me free with the rest of her body, which is a magnificent honey brown. She even has abs and muscular legs. Whatever does this girl do?

I take my time tonguing her stomach, and she reacts with the same grunt when I finally plunge my tongue into her belly button.

Though I’m not watching them, I can feel them break off their kiss, as they watch me slowly making my way down to her pussy. I look up and gesture to Arjun to join me down here, which he does.

I show him how I like to follow the ridges of a woman’s lips with the tip of my finger, gently caressing it and enjoying the way it ripples and contracts against my finger tip.

He watches, fascinated, as I move forward, moving my tongue against her clit, sliding up and down it, pausing at the tip. Sanju is making moaning sounds above me, straightening her legs and holding them stiffly together, her toes scrunching up.

I draw his head toward mine, meeting his lips with a kiss before breaking off and pushing his head toward her opening. He is surprisingly gentle as he goes down on her.

Teaching him to kiss gently clearly was an effective lesson, I can see.

I slide my middle finger into Sanju’s hole, which stiffens against it, before relaxing, her legs spreading slightly to take more of it in.

I push deeper, but am met by resistance.

Of course.

Her hymen.

That I will not take from Arjun, who’s eagerly getting rougher with his wife’s mound.

With my hand on the back of his head, I position him lower still, till he’s at her opening. He pauses to look at it, before proceeding to tongue fuck his own wife.

Moving my own way down, I take his cock into my mouth, which is awkward, as he’s on his side. No matter, he eagerly straddles my head with his right leg, fucking my mouth with his cock as his tongue fucks his wife’s opening.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhale as I push against his groin, letting it slide past my glottis till I can push my face directly into his pubes.

He groans, and from Sanju’s responding moans, I can tell he’s upped his speed on her mound.

He’s fucking my mouth faster and harder, and while I’d like to pull back, his leg is keeping me from backing off all the way, while his other hand is firmly on the back of my head.

He’s fully inside me, grinding his pelvis against my face when he stiffens. Since his tip is well inside my throat, I can’t taste his cum, but I’m enjoying his convulsions.

He relaxes, and pulls away from my aching throat, so I push back up to take care of Sanju who’s looking a bit drugged. When I return my tongue to her clit, she jerks and starts biting her index finger, making slight moaning sounds.

My jaw is a bit sore as well, so I just take that entire little pink fruit into my mouth. Scarcely had I begun, however, than I feel her hands grabbing my head, and she starts pushing her groin up against my face, gasping and moaning, before she too starts spurting into my mouth.

I’m still sucking on that tiny pepper, when she starts pushing my head away, so I back off.

As I straighten up, I see Arjun’s cock still hard and wet with my saliva. Looking up, I meet his eyes and nod.

He rolls over Sanju and they start to kiss (gently), but I’ve seen and done enough. I make my way out of their suite, satisfied that I’ve done all I can, convinced I’ve done a good thing, making sure to attach the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside of their door.

I think those two have a good future together.

As for me, well, I need someone to help me scratch an itch.