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A mutual massage session on an Indian beach is the backdrop of a name game for dominance.


Submitted:Apr 28, 2014    Reads: 770    Comments: 4    Likes: 2   


"Neena?" he said.

She shook her head, giving him a naughty look.

He lathered the thick, almost crusty coconut oil onto his hands, until it was fluid again. That wasn't very difficult in the hot Indian summer. He placed his fingers in her jet black hair, and massaged it into it.

"Aishwarya?" he said.

She smiled, shook her head, and continued kneeling in front of him. Her large eyes were brimming with lust, as she looked up at him, and gave him a teasing lick along his testicles. They were colored like a dark pink, and together were the size of a large kiwi fruit.

He rubbed the oil into her hair vigorously, but also took the opportunity to push her head further towards his crotch. She looked up, partly to let him know that it was dangerous to try to dominate her, and partly to tell him that he must try to dominate her in spite of the danger.

Threads of pre-cum and saliva coated her lover's thick and turgid member, in addition to the glistening coat of oil she had massaged into it. She slurped it down once more, enjoying the feel of his uncircumcised cock against her tongue.

She expertly pulled back his foreskin with her tongue, and heard him moan, while he continued to rub more oil into her hair.

"Priyanka, right?" he said.

She shook her head with his cock in her mouth, and his penis slipped out accidentally as her head turned right. She spit on his cock.

"Keep trying," she said, pumping his shaft with her hand, and pulling his foreskin back until the head of his penis was bulging, and it caused him pain if she pulled his foreskin back more.

"You got two more attempts to get my name right," she said. "No name, and you don't get to dominate.'

He let out a sharp breath, to indicate the pressure he was under.

Meet a hot Indian girl on the beach in Goa. Check.
Seduce her. Check.
Play out a massage fantasy with her. Check.
Dominate her. Conditional check. She loved being dominant herself, so they came up with this method. Whoever guessed the other's name would dominate.

She had been more than generous with him. She had gotten his name on her fifth attempt. He had nothing in the last ten attempts. She was giving him two more, out of the goodness of her heart. If he lost, it meant she would be whipping him, and trampling him underfoot, and rubbing her crotch and her anus in his face, whether he liked it or not.

If he won, he could rub his balls all over her face, and slap her bottom, and slap her with his penis all he wanted, whether she liked it or not.

A deal's a deal. He had two more attempts at becoming the dominant one. He poured more oil into his palms, and breathed evenly, while she idly pinched his balls, waiting for his next words.

He reached down and cupped each of her breasts with the opposite hand, and massaged oil into them. They were supple, and softer than his annoying wife Catherine's breasts were. He pinched her nipples, trying to get in any domination before he lost his chance altogether.

"Don't stall, Georgie Porgie," she said, making his right testicle jump in and out of its ball sac. He groaned.

"This game is not entirely fair," he said. "You know American names very well. From your accent you were raised in the US, but you have your Indian cultural background. I was raised in the US, and I only have my American cultural background. Nothing else. You have double the cultural advantage."

"Life's not fair, motherfucker," she said, "and besides, you know a lot more Indian names than most of my white friends."

She went back to playing with his balls. He sighed, and racked his brains. He'd had many Indian friends over the years, and so he knew more than his share of Indian names. A lovely grad student he'd known many years back, with an ass to die for, swam into his head.

"Okay, your name is Pooja," he said.

She laughed.

"Lucky on the last attempt, perhaps," she said. "It's going to be one of those photo finishes."

He squirmed. He couldn't even tolerate the word photo just then. If his wife knew that he was playing sex games with an Indian girl in her early twenties, she'd take half his considerable fortune with her.

"Let me say something, before I become your slave for the day," he said. "If you were culturally American, I'd have gotten your name in five tries as well."

She stood up and rubbed the excess oil from her hair into his pale chest.

"It's a little late for that, George," she said. "You knew what you were signing up for."

She turned around, and indicated her naked back.

"Rub some oil into my back, Georgie boy," she said, "while you think about your last choice."

He obliged her, and took some more coconut oil, and massaged it into her upper back, and moved her shoulder blades gently, hearing her moan as she enjoyed his touch.

"Okay," he said, as he moved to her lower back, and varied the pace at which his palms explored her luscious derriere. "Final attempt. Your name is Anushka."

She laughed again, and wiggled her buttocks.

"Keep oiling my buttocks, motherfucker," she said. "Kneel while you do it!"





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