Horny hostel story of friends going gay: 1

Horny hostel story: This story takes us back to 2011 when I was a sophomore in college. It was October and we were celebrating Diwali-the Indian Festival of Lights! My college hosts a huge cultural competition on Diwali that involves storytelling using earthen lamps (diyas).

We spent the better part of a month preparing for the event and my hostel was always one to watch.

I was part of the guest reception team whose job was to welcome the judges and their entourage, and ultimately present our story.

Everyone on our team had a specific dress: plain white dhoti and kurta. I was the only one on my team who knew how to tie a traditional dhoti, so in addition to preparing the welcome script, I was also responsible for tying everyone’s dhoti!

The leader of the guest reception team, Sangam, was another sophomore like me. This story is about our one and only sexual encounter.

Sangam, a dusky chap from Bihar in North India, was about 20 years old and 5 feet 5 inches tall. That’s a little shorter than me. He had an average build, like someone who played sports but didn’t go to the gym very often.

His headful of straight black hair was parted sideways. He had a mildly hairy body, dark brown eyes, a roundish face, and pronounced, kissable lips. It was a quintessential Bihari look.

He wasn’t extraordinarily handsome, but his excellent oratory skills made him confident, funny, and charming. We were ‘purposeful’ friends who talked about work and school, but otherwise often just smiled or nodded at each other in passing.

On this evening, around 6:30 PM, I went to Sangam’s room to help him with his dhoti. My team’s seniors had disconnected the power from the entire dorm to prevent the juniors from lazing around instead of helping with the competition.

In the dim light from the distant street lamps, I found Sangam waiting in his underwear, having just taken a shower. He was still a little wet, drying himself with a towel.

Sangam said, “Hey! Nice that you’re ready. Can you help me get ready quickly too? Then we’ll do a final practice!” His voice was casual but with a hint of anticipation.

“Where’s your dhoti?” I asked.

“It’s here.” And Sangam handed the cloth to me.

For those unfamiliar, a dhoti is a long, thin, cotton cloth tied around the waist. But it’s knotted at the waist and wrapped around the legs to resemble pants with many pleats.

He stood in front of me while I squatted so that my head was level with his crotch. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed he was wearing tan briefs.

Though the outline of his bulge wasn’t visible, I was definitely imagining it. As I tied the dhoti around his waist, my hands brushed against him, sometimes on his back, sometimes on his belly.

We were having a normal conversation until he said something that made me blush and shiver.

As I tied the knot of the dhoti, I asked, “Is this tight enough?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but please make sure it doesn’t come loose. I don’t want to flash the judges!”

I rolled my eyes at his reply and continued tying the dhoti.

My hands were close to his package, and perhaps he could feel my breath too because a second later, he added, “It’s dark everywhere and we are alone here. What would you do if I lost control of myself, and made a pass?”

Allow me to stress here that even though I knew I was gay, I was extremely closeted back then.

I would have happily complied immediately, but making the first move or even appearing desirous of a gay encounter was still a big deal for me. So, his words sent a shiver through me- one born of fear, confusion and excitement.

As I pleated the dhoti, I replied in what I hoped would be a calm, steady voice, “Why? Is your mind wandering to …us?” I blushed.

“No, but what if my imagination did wander a bit?” he teased. His smirk was evident even in the dim light. I wondered if he had taken my question as some kind of positive hint.

“We can think about us, if we get there. But we need to get ready now,” I replied, continuing to tie his dhoti. I was definitely flustered–my voice was steady, seeming indifferent even to his increasingly sexual innuendo.

Horny hostel story of wild and sexy friends

But my hands were repeatedly betraying me. I lightly rubbed his butt on the pretext of checking the dhoti’s fit. The air between us quickly grew thick with desire.

“Dude, how am I supposed to pee while wearing this?” he asked, breaking the tension with a laugh.

I had to chuckle too. “Part these two layers to reach your underpants. Pull them down, and take your dick out to pee.” As I explained this, my fingers ‘accidentally’ brushed against his hardening member.

To be continued…