Indian Gay Sex Story of The Librarian’s Lust: 1

Indian Gay Sex Story: The Librarian’s Love-less Lust

I was back home from college during the summer break, and found myself spending all the time online. Mine was a small city, it had nothing much to offer, except a proportionately small public library. I had been a lifetime member since my school days, and my experiences there weren’t great at all.

In my senior year in school, I used to frequent the public library until the bad day. I was surfing through the books and didn’t realize it was lunch hour, So the librarian appeared and got me out with the most rude words possible. The event made me weep for days.

It was not that he was genuinely rude. The rest of my classmates, bold straight jocks, got along with him very well. He was unimaginably amiable to them. But my mannerisms, my unmanly style disgusted him. He hated me for what I was. I felt bad, but I couldn’t hate him back ever.

Maybe I had a crush on him. He had one of the most appealing bodies I had seen, ripped, hairy, fair. Supplementing that was his masculine charisma. He possessed everything that I lacked, everything that I cherished. How in this world could someone hate him!! I was just afraid of him.

Then I got to a college in Delhi, and got engaged too much. The bad memories of the library had diluted. The summer break gave me a chance to see the library again, and see him! But I was excited only about the books only, like the nerd I was.

With some justified apprehension and tension, I made for the place. It was unusually calm, and with almost nobody around. The entrance was open, and I was a member. So I sneaked in, and noiselessly entered the books’ section. I was hell eager to borrow a lot of books.

The shelves had been tightly placed, but I managed to reach the fiction corner. I could hear somebody breathing heavily there. There could be somebody else, I thought, and carried on. The breathing was growing intense and strange. I tried my best to ignore that, and walked round a shelf into the last lane.

What I saw there was a shocking spectacle! The man, the librarian, had his ridiculously fat cock out, and was passionately stroking it. I immediately turned back, and he realized my presence there. I hurried towards the exit but just before I could escape, he called me

“Hey, come back.” It was him. An enraged him. He had tuck his dick in and zipped. I had ruined his private time. I was guilty, and couldn’t disobey him. So I had to turn back and meet his reddened furious face.

“I..I’m sorry.” I was too panicked to utter it out.

“Shut up. I always knew you were a fucking pervert. C’mere.” He beckoned to me. I was terrorized by the look on his broad, beautiful face.

I couldn’t even think of running away. I moved towards the raging beast with unprecedented fear.

Just as I effeminately reached near him, he grabbed a fistful of my hair. Old memories were revived. I winced as he pulled me back to the same spot where he was masturbating.

“Kneel.” I had no choice but to surrender. Yet I tried.

“Please sir, it was a mistake. Please leave me.” Only I used to call him “Sir”. He wasn’t even 30. But the courtesy didn’t work. He punched my face tightly. It hurt like hell.

“Don’t speak. I don’t let queers speak. Stay there like the bitch you are. I’m gonna show you what it takes to check me out.”

He unzipped and revealed to me his manhood. Though I was frightened out of my senses, I admired the piece. Girthy, veiny, just how it should be. Heavy, hairy balls made me feel less of a man. His crotch was radiating heat and ferocity. I was to suffer a lot that day.

I was naturally sitting by the wall, waiting for his next action, trembling with fear as the man grabbed my head firmly. His warm palms were pressing my skull really hard. “Please” was all I could say before my lips banged on his dick. It took no time for them to open up. The huge piece of meat was inside me in a second.

The real action began when he started pushing my head back and forth, as if it was a fuck-toy. His cock-head struck the back of my throat, and I went very close to puking. But he just seemed to fuck my face mercilessly.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was getting mouth-fucked by HIM! Just because I had disturbed him. Still I didn’t hate him. I feel shame to confess that I felt lucky to have my crush’s cock inside me. Even though my throat pained for days following. I was lucky to feel his dick inside me.

Add to it the stink of his crotch. It was summer, and he was sweating a lot. The stink filled up my lungs whenever his cock allowed me to inhale. I was totally under his control. And he was expressing all the hate he had for me.

He was driving his cock very fast, and my teeth scratched it once. He punched my head. “Don’t do that again or I’ll fuck the life out of you.” I subconsciously wrapped my lips around my teeth to avoid scratching. Now I must have looked like a pathetic fuck-toy.

He didn’t stop here, and placed my head by the wall so it couldn’t move. Then he forced his cock all the way down my throat until my nose was inside his sweaty bush. He didn’t mind if I could breathe or not. He just fucked my skull for what seemed like centuries. My head hurt. My jaws, face, throat, hair, everything hurt. He didn’t mind it.

“You’re gonna learn what it means to be a queer. What it means to be a queer around me,” he said, and pulled my hair again. Amid all the grunts and groans, he filled my mouth with cum. Sticky, slimy, salty cum. I wanted to puke it out, but I couldn’t.

“Swallow that shit. That’s the best drink you’ll ever have, disgusting bitch.” Indeed, it was a privilege to drink his seed. He took his cock out, and wiped it all over my face, as if telling me how low I was.

“You were made to suck dicks like this, weren’t you?” I wanted to say yes, but didn’t. I just closed my eyes and accepted the truth. Yes, I was made to suck dicks like this. To be made to kneel before men like him, and to be fed cum. This idea still drives me horny.

He tuck his dick in, pulled out his phone and captured a photo of my destroyed mouth-pussy. I didn’t like it, but I was too scared to object. I looked at the ground below me. The liquids from inside me had dripped down the library floor.

“Clean the mess you made before you get lost. And never ever show me this pathetic face of yours again.” He left me there. I had to soak all the saliva off the floor in my handkerchief. I was still in pain. Somehow I got out of the library, reached a nearby public park and washed my face. It had tears, spit, cum and what not. The librarian had even spat on my head. I had to wash it too. I felt exhausted.

Indian gay sex story of a librarian’s brutality!

The moment I reached home, I received an image on WhatsApp. It was HIM! My heart throbbed again. He had sent me the photo of my fucked up face he had clicked, and had written, “This is what happens to queers who mess with me. And I know you loved it.”

Just as I was reading that, another text appeared: “Sunday lunch break. Same place. Come with a lube if you want less pain.” He was inviting me for an ass-fuck. I replied, “OK”. That proved him right. I don’t know why, but I loved it. However bad it hurt, I loved every moment of it.

If you want me to jot down what happened next, or share your thoughts, or have similar kinks, feel free to hit me up on [email protected] I may have something interesting for you.

Read the next part here!