Part 1: The Awakening
1995, Pune
Monsoon was doing its usual thing, dumping rain every afternoon and making Kothrud smell like wet mud and jasmine. Rohan Deshpande, nineteen, was pedalling home on his old Hero bicycle through those narrow lanes.
Fair skin, soft all over, proper Brahmin boy look—still baby cheeks, not much jaw yet, five-six with a little tummy that showed when he sat. Never did any real heavy work.
Mr Patil from next door had shouted at him earlier outside the college. “Rohan beta! Evening ko aa jaana. (Come home in the evening.) Got a new game on the computer. Foreign one.”
Rohan got curious. Computers were still rare in those days.
Vijay Patil—retired army, lived alone—was one of maybe three people in the whole area who had one. Big Maratha guy, sixty-two but still stood six feet straight, wide shoulders, thick arms with grey in the hair. Wheatish skin, face lined from too many years in the sun.
Rohan parked the cycle against the compound wall, knocked. The door opened quickly. “Arre, come on in, beta, perfect time.”
Inside was dark, cool, old books and agarbatti smell. Patil took him straight to the small study. A huge, bulky computer sitting there, a room full of army photos and medals on the wall.
“Sit.” Patil dragged a chair. Rohan sat. Eyes locked on the screen. Patil leaned over to type DOS commands, his big body crowding Rohan completely. Smell hit—Lifebuoy soap, a bit of sweat, that heavy older-man musk.
“This is Wolfenstein 3D,” he said. “You run through the castle, shoot Nazis.”
Game loaded. Rohan was shit at it, died every two minutes. Every death, Patil laughed deeply from the chest and leaned in again to restart. Thigh pressed against thigh. Arm brushing side. After the third time, it wasn’t accidental anymore.
Patil sat back. “You’re all tense, beta. College tiring?”
“Little bit,” Rohan mumbled.
“Girls there na? Must be lots of distractions.”
Rohan’s cheeks went hot. “I… no ya…”
“No girlfriend?” Patil asked like it was normal talk.
Rohan shook his head, staring at his own hands.
“But you feel something at this age, no? Attraction and all?”
Rohan swallowed. Never talked about this shit with anyone. “There is one girl. History class.”
“Ahh.” Patil moved the chair even closer. Blue screen light on his old face. “And what happens when you see her?”
“Don’t know… nice feels.”
“Nice?” Patil gave a small laugh. “Come on, beta, you’re a young man. More than nice, no?”
Heart is banging now. Why is he asking this? “I feel warm.”
“Warm where?”
“Face, chest.”
“Heart racing?”
Rohan nodded, couldn’t look up.
“And down there?” Voice went low. “Body feels different?”
Rohan shifted. Never said these things out loud. “Sometimes, something moves.”
“Where?”
Rohan couldn’t speak.
“Between legs?” Patil said it calmly, like asking about the weather.
Tiny nod. Face on fire.
“And when it stays hard long… something comes? Clear drop?”
How the hell does he know? Rohan nodded again.
“Precum,” Patil said plainly. “Normal. Means everything is working fine.”
Hearing the word made it less dirty somehow. Rohan looked up quickly. Patil watching, not laughing, not creepy—just… interested.
“These feelings strong na? Confusing also.”
“Yes,” Rohan said in a barely audible voice.
“And no one to talk to.”
Rohan shook head.
Patil put a heavy hand on the shoulder. Solid. “No shame, beta. Every man passes this phase.”
Relief hit hard, plus something else—being seen felt weirdly good. Hand stayed, thumb making slow circles on the kurta.
“Body has needs,” Patil said low. “Curiosities also.”
Hand slid up slowly to the back of the neck. Possessive kind of hold. Rohan knew he should move. Didn’t.
“Sometimes… exploring with someone who gets it… helps.”
Breathe on the ear now. Heart slamming.
“You feeling it now? That stirring?”
Rohan was rock hard, hurting in pants. Tiny nod.
Patil’s rough fingers touched cheek. “So soft… like a girl.”
Should’ve felt bad. Instead, the whole body jerked. Trembling.
Patil pulled back a little, still holding the neck. “You’re curious, na? About everything.”
Nod. Couldn’t talk.
“Natural to be curious. About one’s own body. About other bodies.”
Rohan’s eyes went big.
“When it gets hard… You wonder what it looks like? On other men?”
Rohan stopped breathing. He had wondered. Changing room glances, he hated himself for. Wondered if others leak too. Never said it.
Patil saw it on his face. “Okay to wonder. That’s how we learn.”
Pause. Then casual: “Ever seen another man’s… thing?”
Rohan shook head fast. Almost never.
“Seeing helps. Makes you realise it’s all the same, normal.”
Mind spinning. See Patil’s? Scary. Wrong. But also… wanted.
“I… don’t know.”
“Just biology beta. Flesh only. No need to fear.”
Silence. Computer fan humming. Rohan’s dick is throbbing like a reminder.
Then whisper: “What… it looks like?”
Patil’s thumb stopped, then started again. “Want to see?”
Heart in throat. Shouldn’t. But ache too much. Tiny nod.
“Ask properly, beta. I won’t show till you ask.”
Mouth like sand. “Can… can I see?”
Patil smiled slowly. “Of course, beta.”
He stood, but dragged the chair closer again, knees touching. Sat. Hands went to the belt. Click of the buckle is loud. Button. Zip down slow. Rohan staring. Patil pushed pants and underwear just low enough.
There it was.
Thick. Uncut. Heavy on grey-black hair. Darker than Rohan’s skin. Soft-looking but curved down.
“So?” Patil was calm. “What do you think?”
Rohan blinked. “It’s… bending down. Not… full…”
“Not fully hard?”
Nod. “Looks… soft.”
Patil laughed low. “Not soft. Still excited. See?” Wrapped a big hand around it, just holding. “Feel how warm.”
Took Rohan’s hand, put it on top. Fingers touched hot skin. Firm, even soft.
“Warm…” Rohan breathed.
“Because turned on. Blood flow. Then with little help…” He started with a slow stroke, his hand guiding Rohan’s. “Gets hard. Full.”
Rohan watched it grow—thicken, straighten, point up. Foreskin slid back. Head dark, swollen.
“See? Just needed a touch.”
Rohan’s own pants were screaming. Breathing fast.
“How… it gets like that?”
“Rubbing. Hand warmth.” Patil slid his hand away. Left Rohan’s alone on it. “You try. Softly.”
Rohan’s fingers are shaking. Wrapped around. Hot. Soft skin, hard inside. Moved slow.
“Yes… like that. Up down.”
Rohan got braver. Watching it throb.
“Why…” Stopped. Shy.
“Why what?”
“Why yours… so big?”
Patil smiled slowly. “Is it big? Maybe. Men are different. Some big, some small.” Pause. Watched face. “Want to compare?”
Hand froze. “Compare?”
“To see the difference. Understand.” Hand came behind Rohan’s head. “Show me yours.”
Part 2: The Revelation
Rohan just stared, hand frozen on Patil’s thick thing. “Show me yours?” he whispered, voice barely there in the sticky air.
Patil’s big hand stayed on the back of his head, gentle but heavy. “To compare. To understand.”
Rohan got up slowly, legs stiff. His fingers were shaking badly as he opened his own belt. Button popped. Zip down quietly. Pushed pants and underwear just low enough.
There—pale, smooth like him everywhere else. Smaller, slimmer. Standing straight up, tip shiny with that clear stuff.
“Different,” Patil said low, eyes dark. “Yours faithfully. So smooth. Like you.” His rough hand wrapped around Rohan’s completely. Touch like current—whole body jerked.
“Now,” Patil said, starting slow strokes on Rohan, “you do mine. I do yours. Together.”
Rohan’s hand went back. They stood close, facing. At first clumsy—Rohan’s small soft hand unsure on the big dark one, Patil confident on his slim. Then, somehow, matched. Back and forth. Natural, weird way.
“How’s it feel?” Patil’s voice is rough.
Rohan couldn’t think straight. Heat, slide, wet from precum, making everything slicker. And Patil’s hand—firm, sure—giving pleasure he never felt. “I… don’t know. Strange. Good. But…”
“But?”
“My fingers… wet.” From Patil. Felt dirty. But also… proud? He was making this strong man leak.
Patil laughed low. “Means you’re doing good.”
He sped up on Rohan, thumb circling his head. Rohan moaned, hips pushed forward without asking.
“Ever… finished?” Patil asked, staring at his face. “Come?”
Rohan shook head. Got hard lots, leaked, but never went all the way. Guilt always stopped him.
“You haven’t lived beta,” Patil said thickly. “Orgasm… strongest thing. Body takes over. Mind blank. Nothing else.”
Then suddenly Patil went down on knees.
“What…?” Rohan stammered, hand dropping. Couldn’t reach anymore.
“Showing you,” Patil looked up. “Better way. Stronger.”
Before Rohan could think, Patil leaned in and took him in his mouth.
Nothing like that ever. Wet, hot, tight. Knees gave way—grabbed chair back. Cry came out choked. Patil moved up and down, tongue swirling, head easily. Wet sounds loud. One hand on Rohan’s hip, holding steady. On the other hand, fast on one’s own thick thing.
Rohan eyes shut, head back. The whole world is gone—just that mouth. Never knew the body could feel so much. That “stirring” he told about? Nothing. This was everything.
Tongue dipped in slit—hips jerked hard. Patil’s hand gripped tighter, controlled.
“Oh god,” Rohan breathed.
Patil looked up, mouth full, eyes intense. Scary hot. Went faster, deeper, throat opening. Rohan gripped the chair white-knuckled. Panting loud. Pleasure building tight in balls, spreading hot waves. Dizzy.
Looked down. Patil is on his knees, face in his crotch. Hand flying on itself. Big man serving him. Worshipping almost. Shame, confusion, power—all mixed. But pleasure is winning hard.
Balls tightened. Pressure is scary good. Something coming.
“I… think…” barely whisper.
Patil got it. Sucked harder, faster. Matched the rhythm in himself. Tighter tighter—then burst. Rohan cried raw, body shaking, hips thrusting wild. White heat everywhere—fingers, toes, hair roots. Vision white edges. Thought he’d faint.
Patil took it all, swallowed, kept going till Rohan was empty, trembling, almost falling. Long seconds just breathing—Rohan fast, Patil heavy.
Then guilt slammed. What did I do? In a man’s mouth? Enjoyed? Cried out? Dirty. Wrong. Looked down—pants half down, soft now, wet saliva. Patil is still kneeling, hand on own hard thing. Looked obscene suddenly.
Rohan yanked pants up, fingers fumbling badly. Face burning. Couldn’t look. “I… should go.”
Patil stood calm, pulled own pants up easily, and buckled belt like nothing. “Of course, beta. First time… overwhelming. Normal.”
Rohan dressed fast, eyes on the floor. Silence heavy. Computer still humming, game paused. Patil opened the study door. “Come. See you out.”
Rohan followed, head down. The hallway felt forever. Each step away from it, back to normal. At the front door, Patil stopped. Hand on shoulder again—same but different now.
“Rohan.”
Rohan looked up, finally. Patil is calm, no shame.
“Body remembers what mind wants to forget,” a low voice. “What you felt… yours now. Nobody takes it. Not even you.”
Eyes locked. “Shame fades—and it will. Left is truth. Your body’s truth.”
Opened the door. Cool monsoon air rushed in, with the wet earth jasmine smell. Outside, same—cycles, dripping trees, some mother calling kid.
“Think about it,” Patil said, squeezing the shoulder gently. “When ready to go deeper… You know where.”
Let go. “Go home, beta. Rest.”
Rohan stepped out. The door closed softly.
Stood there stupid. The street looked the same. But nothing is the same.
Walked home slowly. Body still buzzing with the pleasure memory. Mind mess—shame confusion.
Patil’s words kept coming: Body remembers… shame fades… body’s truth.
What truth? Did you like that? From man? Didn’t know.
That night bed, dark, staring ceiling. Hand went down itself. Touched slow. Remembered mouth warmth. Wet. Explosion. Body remembered.
Sleep coming, one whisper left: When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”