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Message-ID: <31634asstr$995947801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: roshanrajsx@excite.com (Roshan Raj)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 23 Jul 2001 17:51:17 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} American Education - Indian - interracial - WM/IF - anal
Date: Tue, 24 Jul 2001 00:10:01 -0400
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Roshan Files is a series of Indian sex stories written by yours
truly, Roshan Raj. To keep things interesting, the stories will all be
about different people and from different points of view. Some will be
from the point of view of a white male with an indian woman. Others
will be from the point of view of an indian man with an indian woman.
Some from an indian woman with an indian man. From a white woman with
an indian man. A white woman with an indian woman...whatever and
whoever. I'll post as I write, and I don't promise any schedules. Just
one thing...e-mail me with your thoughts, and most importantly, your
own stories. And please, NO Indian incest stories. Please.

Also, all the stories I will be posting are based on true events. Of
course, this is fiction, but all the events taking place in the
stories involve real people in real relationships...just the details
are fiction (with changed names...sometimes!) How? Well, myself being
an Indian, I know very many Indians. And I know about their
boyfriends, girlfriends, of sexual flings, etc. I don't know all the
details, or if all the rumors about a particular person or persons are
true, but I let my imagination run wild and the results are these
stories.

Enjoy. 

RoshanRaj 
Roshanrajsx@excite.com

American Education – Part I

I had been in the U.S. for less than a year when I met him.  I had
come on a grant to study computer science in a large American
university, and he was teaching one of my courses.  Dr. Wyeth was in
his late forties, with a graying beard and thick frame.  He
wasn’t fat, just thick.  At the time I couldn’t really
tell if a guy was all that muscular or not, but later I would discover
he was, though not with any definition.

He didn’t seem to notice me much from the start.  The class was
full of Indian grad students newly arrived, and I was one of the faces
in the crowd.  Admittedly, there were few women in the class –
at least, when compared with the number of men.  But still he looked
through me like I was nobody, and I took no special notice of him,
except to find him somewhat handsome, in a fatherly sort of way.

Most of the other men in the class noticed me though.  And not just
for being female, but for being a tall, attractive, Indian female. 
The Indian guys in the class always stared at the Indian girls, but me
especially.  I’d lived for a time outside of India, with my
cousins in Australia, so I was more attuned to Western culture than
most of the other girls, and so I dressed as was the fashion in the
States.  It being a warm Fall, I was wearing shorts, not thinking that
I’d be putting my long, brown legs on display for the leering
Indian eyes, who, fresh from India, were not yet used to seeing an
Indian woman this way.  Besides, I had a very attractive face, with a
gold nose ring to draw attention to it, and thick, wild black hair
which I’d taken to wearing up, in a sexy sort of way.

So of course I was being hit on from day one, and as is the case when
there are more of one sex than another, the sex in the minority has
the choice of who they want from the majority.  I ignored most of the
guys initially, but after a while I started flirting with a Punjabi
guy named Dipesh.  He was about my height, 5’10” in U.S.
measurements, but was thick and brawny, with big arms and nice, broad
shoulders and chest.  He was handsome too, with one of those North
Indian jaw lines.

I joined the “Indian Cultural Association” like every
other Indian, and it was here Dipesh and I got to know each other.  He
was older, at 26 just a year older than me, and we hit if off well,
though I couldn’t have said I loved him.  One night, after a
late study session, we ended up making out, with Dipesh running his
hands up my shirt and squeezing my breasts.  I’d never gone
farther than kissing a guy before, and it was quite a rush.

Soon I was doing all sorts of things with Dipesh, letting him take my
clothes off and lick me.  When he tried to probe my crotch with his
fingers I resisted, but eventually gave way.  It went on this way for
a while, but for Dipesh it wasn’t enough.  I was scared, but
soon he had himself naked, and for the first time in my life I saw a
man’s penis.  It was hard but not too big, perhaps 5 inches and
of a regular thickness.  Being Indian he was uncircumcised, and I had
fun playing with his foreskin, once I was comfortable enough. 
I’d jerk him off, then play with his cum.  One day he asked me
to lick his cum, and I did, and even though I didn’t like the
taste, something about doing something so taboo turned me on, and I
found myself licking his brown dick.  I gave Dipesh my first blow job,
and have never looked back since.

But Dipesh couldn’t stay faithful to me, and after I found out
about his transgressions with a Filipino grad student, I broke up with
him.  Jagdeesh was soon after me, a tall, skinny, Tamil guy, dark as
night, who was charming in a frumpy sort of way.  I wanted to
experiment now, so I let him get away with more than he could have
otherwise, letting him eat my pussy and giving him head, licking his
black balls and swallowing his cum.

But it was Nirav who I gave my virginity to, a good-looking Rajastani
guy with a fiancee back in India.  He never claimed to care for me,
but I let him take me anyway, slipping his fat Desi cock into me on
the floor of his living room apartment.  He fucked me for his own
pleasure, not caring if I came or not, which, up until this point, I
had yet to do.  Somehow I liked it though, his selfish ways, and I let
him fuck me regularly for a few months, even though his roommates knew
about it and called me a slut behind my back.

After Nirav I decided I needed a break from men.  All the Indian guys
wanted to screw you, but once you did considered you cheap and
wouldn’t marry you.  My girlfriends had similar stories, and
after three guys in one semester, I had developed a reputation, which
didn’t help.

Spring semester found me decidedly keeping to myself.  No flirting, or
even much talking.  The guys who’d heard about me and thought I
was an easy score were disappointed, wondering who the hell I thought
I was, to reject them.  To take it all off my mind I started focusing
on my studies, which I’d neglected my first semester here.

I had a class with Dr. Wyeth again, a programming class.  He
recognized me from last semester, and acknowledged me by name the
first day of class.  “Payal, nice to see you again.”  He
looked at me more often this time, often making eye contact and
smiling.  But it wasn’t as if he was interested in me.  It was
more like the look an uncle or close family friend gives you.

Halfway through the semester I was having trouble with a simple For
Loop which just wouldn’t do what I wanted it to.  After
consulting a couple of my friends I went to Dr. Wyeth.  He was nice
and polite, and guided me through finding the solution.  I liked the
way he was patient and attentive, the way he really seemed to care
that I understood.  And I also found myself liking the way he would
look at my brown cleavage, and my long legs.  He’d never noticed
before, but I thought he did now.

I started thinking about Dr. Wyeth in a different way after that, and
wishing more guys were like him.  All the Indian guys were just after
sex, and most of the white guys in school were too strange or boyish,
despite their big bodies.  But Dr. Wyeth was different, and after a
few months of no sexual contact, I found myself aroused at the thought
of him.

But as open towards sex as I’d become, I wasn’t about to
approach a man, let alone an older man, on my own.  So I kept my
feelings to myself, noticing when he noticed me, giving him coy, shy
smiles when we made eye contact.

It was the end of the Spring Semester when I found myself in Dr.
Wyeth’s office again, asking him for help with another
programming problem.  Again he did his best to help, but unfortunately
I just couldn’t grasp what he was teaching.  “You
know,” he said.  “I have something that deals with this on
my PC at home.  Why don’t you come by my house this weekend and
I’ll show it to you. Perhaps that will help.”

I agreed, and he told me where he lived and how to get there.  Two
days later I found myself in his home, a large, elegant house a few
miles off campus.  Dr. Wyeth was apparently a wealthy man, something I
hadn’t expected.  He answered the door wearing just sweat pants
and a T-shirt, again something I wasn’t expecting.  I’d
always seen him in a suit, and this was very different.  “Sorry
about my dress,” he apologized.  “I’ve been doing
some work around the house, just cleaning and whatnot.”

“You don’t have a wife?” I asked.

He laughed.  “I did!  Or I guess I should say, still do for now.
 But the woman and I couldn’t get along, so we separated a year
ago.  She lives in Connecticut now, with her sister.”  He looked
around his big house and said, “I guess I could hire a maid or
cleaning-lady, but I like doing the work myself.”

Dr. Wyeth led me to his study, a posh room in the back of the house. 
It held his computer and a library of books, most of which were not
computer related.  I mentioned this to him, and he said that computers
weren’t his entire life, and that he had interests in other
things as well, specifically literature and art.  “Actually,
I’ve been reading a lot of Indian literature lately.  Dr.
Janssen, one of the professors of South Asian literature, is a good
friend of mine, and he’s been recommending some books to
me.”

The study also contained a large, plush couch against one wall. 
“For relaxing,” Dr. Wyeth said.  “Now, let’s
see if we can get to the bottom of your problem.”

He pulled a second chair up to his desk, and began going over the
program.  It took a while, almost an hour and a half, but Dr. Wyeth
was very patient, and eventually it clicked.  I also noticed something
else clicking – us.  Dr. Wyeth and I were laughing the entire
time, him making witty remarks, me unable to stop laughing.  Even when
I caught him looking at me and my body admiringly, I never tensed up,
that was how comfortable I was with him.

After I understood the issue I didn’t want to leave, so I went
over to the sofa and sat down.  “For relaxing,” you said.

“Yes,” Dr. Wyeth said, coming over to sit next to me. 
“And for more.”  Dr. Wyeth put a hand on my bare knee.  I
looked into his eyes, and he began to rub my leg, then leaned over. 
His mustache and beard prickled, but I opened my mouth wide to take
his tongue into it, and soon we were kissing away.  Dr. Wyeth ran his
big white hands all over my thin body, with his hands eventually
coming up to my tits.  He squeezed them through my thin white shirt,
and then was lifting my shirt away.  He took my bra off like an
expert, and then there I was, topless in front of this man almost
twice my age.  He put his big white hands over my brown, B-sized tits.
 He squeezed the dark nipples and pinched them, then bent over to suck
on them.  I leaned back and moaned, letting him go to town, running my
hands over his head and shoulders.  He facial hair prickled wherever
his face went, but I found myself liking it.

Soon Dr. Wyeth was tugging at my shorts.  He very attentively pulled
my sandals off, then slid my shorts off as well.  He then kissed his
way from my breasts and down my stomach, stopping above my crotch.  He
kissed me through my panties right there, then slid a hand between my
thighs.  I didn’t spread my legs but didn’t resist.  I
wanted to make him try a little, but I wasn’t going to hold back
either.  He was gentle, and delicately probed my pussy with his index
finger, sliding it through my panties.  He knew how to work even that
one digit, and had me getting wet right away.

After getting me soaking wet, Dr. Wyeth pulled my panties off, and I
spread my brown legs wide for him.  He slowly went between them, and I
felt his facial hair prickle the inside of my thighs, and then my
pussy lips and even my clit.  Soon I felt his tongue against my clit,
stimulating me, and then he was at my pussy, his talented tongue
giving me so much pleasure.  I was in ecstasy, feeling him eat me so
expertly.  He played with my clitoris with one hand.  With the other,
he spread my pussy lips apart.  And somehow he also managed to slide
another finger past my lips, while his tongue danced inside as well.

I was moaning loudly now.  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been
doing it for, but I realized it at a certain point.  Somewhere along
the way pleasure had completely washed over, taking me.  I’d
become disoriented and was coming to now.  The pleasure continued, but
some of it was receding from what it had been before.  Dr. Wyeth had
been licking and slurping me down there for some time, and the
pressure had kept building up and up. Then there had been that moment
when it had consumed me, and now it ebbed.  Dr. Wyeth smoothly pulled
away, a smile on his face as if he knew what had just happened.

Then Dr. Wyeth saw what must have been a perplexed look on my face,
and his grin broadened.  “You came,” he said.  I stared
back at him.  “You had an orgasm.”  My eyes widened.
That’s what it had been.  It had been so grand.  And this man
had given it to me.  I urgently wanted to return the favor.

I sat up and grabbed Dr. Wyeth’s crotch.  His cock was big and
hard in his sweatpants, and I pulled at the waist band.  I was clumsy,
and he patiently moved my hands aside.  Standing up, he pulled his
shirt off.  He was white and somewhat hairy, salt and pepper hair
covering his chest and stomach.  I had never seen a body so white and
pale before except in photographs.  He had a flat stomach with slight
love handles.  His chest and arms didn’t look like those of a
man his age.  They were full and soft looking, with no wrinkles or
hardness.  Though he had muscle underneath that flesh, he wasn’t
bulging with them.

Then Dr. Wyeth grabbed the edge of his sweatpants and pulled down. 
His cock came free, swinging in the air, erect and waving.  It was the
biggest dick I’d seen up to this point, seven or so inches long
and thick and white.  So white.  I’d never seen a white cock
before.  I never looked at porn, and had never seen one at any other
time.  His was white and thick…it was the thickness that got me
more than the length.  It was fat, but full and pulsing.  The head was
the biggest part, the bulbous tip so ripe I had to have it in me.

Dr. Wyeth pulled his sweatpants all the way off and tossed them aside.
 He stood before me stark naked, his white magnificence so different
from what I was used to.  He came closer and stepped in front of me,
his white cock waving before my face.  He smiled, and I reached out. 
My long fingers slid around his shaft, and I pulled him to me.  I put
the head in my mouth, and I instantly tasted the pre-cum.  It was
delicious, salty, and I moaned as I pulled more of him inside of me. 
He was too big for me to take much in.  His thickness was so great. 
But I did my best, sucking on his penis with all my heart.

Dr. Wyeth directed me, telling me to relax my jaw, to swallow the
saliva, but not to swallow it all.  His hands on his hips, he told me
to open my throat, and how to not bump his dick with my teeth.  He had
me massage his nuts with one hand and use my other hand for leverage
so that I could lean forward more easily.  He taught me lessons in
sucking that I still use to this day.  I blew him gratefully, happy
that I could do at least this much for the man who’d made me
cum.  I slurped and slobbered all over his dick.  I wanted to make him
cum like he’d made me, but Dr. Wyeth had other ideas.

He pulled my head off his cock.  At first, I grew scared.  “Did
I do something wrong,” I asked him.  I thought  I’d
disappointed him, and felt like crying.

“No, no,” he reassured me, bending down and kissing me
lightly.  He brushed my hair out of my face and peppered my face with
pecks.  “Not at all.  I just want the pleasure to last longer. 
Men at my age can’t go too many times.”  I understood, and
smiled.

Dr. Wyeth then led me by the hand out of the study and up to his
bedroom.  I liked walking naked through this big house, Dr.
Wyeth’s thick body leading the way.  His bedroom was humungous,
with a large, canopied bed.  “It’s beautiful!” I
exclaimed.
I jumped into the bed, bouncing on it.  Then I lay back on it, looking
at Dr. Wyeth, trying to be seductive.

He hopped on the bed and came over to me on his hands and knees.  He
sat at my feet and looked down at me.  “You are so
beautiful,” he said.  “I noticed you the first day you
came into my class.”

“In the Fall?” I asked.  “You didn’t even
notice me.”

“Of course I did,” he said. “I just didn’t let
you know.”

Then he took one my feet in his hands and started playing with it.  He
continued to look at me, but took my foot and began to rub it against
his face.  I liked it, watching my brown foot aside his white cheek. 
I have nice feet, cute but not small.  My toes are long but nice, very
Indian.  I take care of my nails, keeping them tripped and pretty.  He
licked them, sucking on the big toe, then sticking a tongue between
the other toes one at a time.  I’d never had a man pay so much
attention to that part of me, and it got me excited.  Even that part
of me turned this man on.

Dr. Wyeth did the same with the other foot, then kissed his way up my
leg.  I spread my legs, and he softly brushed my pussy with the palm
of his hand.  Then he was laying on top of me, pressing his big penis
against my slit.  At once I felt the weight of his body press upon me,
and his penis push into me.  It was incredible.  He spread me wider
than I’d ever been spread by Nirav, and an ocean of pleasure
spread through me.  Dr. Wyeth began to pump in and out with short
thrusts, holding me close to him.  I clawed at his back as he fucked
me.  The pleasure was so great, I had to hold on to something, and his
back was the only thing there.  I heard myself moaning loudly, but it
seemed distant.  The only thing I could really feel was Dr. Wyeth and
the sexual pleasure he was giving me.

Dr. Wyeth filled me.  Not just my pussy, but every part of me, every
sense.  His smell filled my nostrils, his hot, sweaty body.  His flesh
was pressed against mine, his heaviness crushing me yet not enough to
hurt me.  The taste of his mouth, his face, his shoulders, was mine as
I moved my mouth wherever I could reach.  The sound of him grunting,
breathing hard into my ear, of his skin slapping against mine, of the
bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall, were the only sounds
I could hear.  And as I looked up at him Dr. Wyeth filled my vision,
his eyes closed, his face contorted in pleasure.  He was biting his
lip as he fucked me, then moaning.  Occassionally he would open his
eyes and look into mine.

It was all so much, and I came, orgasm shooting through me for the
second time.  This time it was greater, though, more powerful than the
last.  This time all my senses came at once, and later Dr. Wyeth told
me my body shook in convulsions.  But I didn’t realize it then,
didn’t realize it because I was deep in a whirlpool of pleasure
where nothing else existed.

And then Dr. Wyeth was pulling out of me.  He withdrew his mammoth
prick, and it came out with a loud slurp of my pussy.  He looked down
at me, and as I came to, I panted hard.  My body was covered in our
sweat, and I ran my hands over my body, relishing the feeling.

Dr. Wyeth then had me get up onto my hands and knees.  I was a bit
unsteady after that incredible fucking, so he took a pillow and put it
under my stomach and told me to lie down.  Then I felt him pressing
behind me, and I wondered what he was going to do.  He grabbed my butt
cheeks and squeezed them, then I felt his fingers at my pussy,
plumbing the juices.  He coated his fingers, and then did something I
hadn’t ever thought of: he touched my asshole.

His big finger pressed against my puckered anus, and I felt it sliding
in.  “Aaah,” I moaned.  It felt soooo good!  I
hadn’t even known I could feel pleasure there.  Dr. Wyeth
continued to finger my pussy, then come up to my ass with the juice. 
I wondered what he was doing.  I liked it when he kept finger in
there, not when he took it out to play with the juice of my cunt.  All
of a sudden I felt another pressure against my asshole, and then it
was being stretched wide.  “Ah!” I yelped this time,
because it hurt.

“It’s okay, just relax,” Dr. Wyeth said in his
soothing voice.  “Just relax.”  The pain slowly subsided,
and Dr. Wyeth began to push farther into me.  And again I was feeling
things I’d never felt in my life.  There was pain, yes, but also
a fullness I can’t describe.  It was wonderful.  “Oh,
oh,” I heard myself saying.  Dr. Wyeth gave a groan, and shoved
his entire penis into me, so that his lower abdomen was pressed
against my butt.  And then Dr. Wyeth was fucking my ass hard.  He held
onto my ass cheeks tightly as he screwed my anus, banging in and out,
grunting and groaning.  “Oh yes, Payal. Yes!  Don’t you
love how that feels? Don’t you love having me inside of you
there?”

“Yes Doctor, yes I do!” I yelled back.  And it was so
true.

Dr. Wyeth gave my virgin asshole the fucking of its life.  The
fullness was awesome, and Dr. Weyth’s balls slapped against my
clitoris and pussy, stimulating me.  I reached underneath me and
fingered myself as he fucked my anus.  In and out, in and out he went,
fucking with short, furious thrusts.  I lay there, my face buried in
one pillow, prone on my stomach, my ass raised in the air by the other
pillow, my legs splayed wide, and Dr. Wyeth deep inside of my brown
butt, fucking me with his big white dick.  He was grunting and roaring
loudly, calling my name, telling me how wonderful it felt to have me
around him.  Finally I felt him stop and his body tense.  And then he
was groaning even more loudly, and his body was convulsing, and I
could feel a hotness in my ass that I knew was his semen.

Dr. Wyeth remained in me for a while, then pulled out.  It felt
strange, his cock gone from my anus, as if something was missing.  He
lay down beside me and rolled me over so that we were facing each
other, moving the pillow up under my head.  We kissed and cuddled, and
then a thought occurred to me.  “I don’t even know your
first name.”

He chuckled softly and said, “You should have read the
syllabus.” Then kissing me, he said, “Mark.  You can call
me that if you like.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.  “I want to call you
Dr. Wyeth.”

We lay there until we fell asleep.  As I drifted off, I thought about
this day.  I hadn’t just slept with another man.  He was a
married man, and a white man, and an older man.  And he’d taken
my anal virginity.  As I fell asleep I though that when I awoke
nothing would be the same again.

End Part I

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