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The Old Fag Book Four:
Stuart and Raj
Chapter Three
Raj Acharya was the only son and second child of a long-established clan of the Kshatriya caste; the caste were the administrators and managers of the affairs of government, whether under the kings and priests of the Brahmin caste or later under the British. It was natural, and expected, then, that Raj would attend the University of Delhi and major in management. A brilliant boy, quiet and determined and always polite, he was equally adept at math and cricket, disdained the violence of rugby, and secretly worshipped the Vedic literature.
He had read widely and deeply across the literary treasures of British and American writers but found them to be superficial in comparison to the lofty annals of his homeland as well as the neighboring Muslin states: writers such as Rumi and Omar Khayyam enchanted him.
No one knew his secret, nor his other much deeper one: a gay Indian boy was not unique but was also not socially acceptable among the Brahmins or the Kshatriyas. His solution was to escape to the Golden State where his sister had found a university teaching job: he went to Los Angeles for a graduate school program at the University of Southern California. After his MBA degree he stayed long enough to find a job in government as the chief of staff to the mayor of Los Angeles and also to find love. At age 30 he married Stuart Warden.
At his wedding, his mother took him aside and said how proud she was. Many other mothers had sons who had left India behind to find work and adventure across the world; few since the times of Rudyard Kipling had been able to achieve at the heights that Raj had climbed. He thought about that conversation many times since the Mayor had been elected as Governor; for Raj, it was a natural evolution from chief of staff of the state's largest city to chief of staff of the Governor's office of the most populous state. His fear was that the Governor would eventually want to campaign for President, and Raj knew his own aspirations were not in that direction.
His life had also changed since meeting and marrying Stuart; they really were different, one an Idaho farm boy, and the other from the urban and urbane second-highest caste in the state of Rajasthan. They were, he understood, from unequal sides of the planet; their lives as gay men found them on the only common ground they shared.
And that was the joy of their marriage: Stuart had much to share with Raj about life in America, about the culture that was so different than Raj's own, not just in its materialism and hedonism and media-driven consciousness, but in its almost total lack of class consciousness. Raj, on the other hand, had grown up in and been invested in the caste system and the British class-consciousness that had subsumed Indian life for two centuries and drove all relationships. So these two, the dirty-blonde, blue-eyed Idaho farm boy and the caramel-skinned dark-eyed boy who looked like the model for Disney's Jungle Book found a unique and precious love: they spent almost every weekend discovering new and exciting facets of each other and their lives.
Raj's secret desire was to spend a month with Stuart exploring India; the vast train system crossing India would allow them to traverse the many sides of the old empire from the Taj Mahal to the architectural and ancient wonders of Jaipur, from Kashmir to the Ganges.
Raj was always careful in his spending habits; he had saved a hefty portion of his salary since graduating from USC and felt he nearly had enough to surprise Stuart. The problem was being able to find the time off from the grueling schedule of the Governor's office. They barely had enough time to catch a weekend out of town to Tahoe or Shasta or Laguna Beach or Catalina, let alone Puerto Vallarta or Maui.
His chance to surprise Stuart, at least in part, came with a sudden phone call at the beginning of the next business day; his sister Aneth in Los Angeles called to tell him their father had passed away. Raj checked his schedule online for his assignments with the Governor, the staffing, and the media, and realized he had approximately five days to rush home to Jaipur to fulfill his familial duties. Of course, he had to take Stuart, but there would be no site-seeing on this trip.
Flying across a zillion time zones from Sacramento to Mumbai and then by train to Jaipur, and back again, was exhausting enough; given the extra emotional and psychological burdens of family duties falling on the shoulders of the only son, and all of the Hindu rituals expected for their dead father/husband/brother, Raj was ready to sleep the entire flight home.
Stuart, on the other hand, felt as if he were merely a bystander, a shadow, not understanding most of the family conversations and having almost no time alone with Raj: by the time of their flight home, he was seething with depression, anger, and jealousy. Not only had they had no time alone together while in Jaipur, but it was more than two weeks after returning to their professional lives in Sacramento before Raj realized something was clearly wrong- very, very, wrong. Stuart had not touched him in more than three weeks.
Immediately after they returned to their condo in Sacramento a short walk from the capitol building, Raj turned to Stuart and said "I'm sorry. I'm very, very sorry. I know something is wrong, but I cannot quite put my finger on it; would you please enlighten me?"
Stuart sighed deeply, dropped his briefcase, threw his trench coat on the coat tree in the entrance hall, and turned to face his lover.
"We have been lovers and husbands for more than six years, and you do not know what is wrong?" He was angry and did not know what to say or do next.
Raj blinked; he said "Let me see if I can guess. We have had no time together for a few days and it has made you angry. Is that about it?"
"Raj, darling, my love, you are close but not quite on target. We have not touched each other in almost four weeks, since the phone call from your sister telling us about your father. Then, when we were in India, we did not talk, we did not have any time together, and you were totally engulfed by your family and the guests at the funeral. Flying home together we did not talk, and it has now been almost three more weeks since coming home that we have not talked, have not made love, have not kissed, and you think it is just `we have not had time together for a few days'? It feels more like you have forgotten who I am and what we are supposed to be together."
"I am sorry. I am deeply sorry. What can I do?" Raj was stymied, chagrined, and confused. He had never had to manage a relationship of this magnitude and have never had to navigate through the choppy waters of emotional turbulence like this situation facing him and Stuart.
"I am sorry as well. Forgive me. I am just full of anger, and hurt, and disappointment. I guess I expected you to be able to read my mind and understand my feelings without me being responsible enough and adult enough to let you know what I was experiencing and what I was feeling." Stuart tried to smile but that hurt as well.
Raj kissed him; it was a little, tiny, tentative kiss, but it was a small start toward building a much-needed bridge. Raj took Stuart's hand and directed him toward the sofa, and they both sat and turned toward each other.
"There is a lot I do not know about relationships; there is a lot you were not prepared for when we went to the funeral. It is my fault for both of those things, but please give me a chance to start over." Raj looked truly contrite. It suddenly startled Stuart that he was being a first-class prick for treating Raj so coldly.
"No, it is not your fault, we are both at fault for having too many un-said expectations. We are adults, and we need to communicate like adults. So let me say this: I love you. That is fundamental and that is non-negotiable. I was hurt to be pushed to the side at the funeral and treated by you and your family as if I was not there or did not matter. But I also realize you were suddenly burdened with the expectations of the family because of being the only son and required to provide leadership. So forgive me for my jealousy. And forgive me for not communicating before today. I was having my own little melt-down and had not yet figured out how to deal with it. Previously, in all of my relationships, because there was no commitment, I just walked away whenever things got to this level."
"Wow. That was a pretty long speech. And I love you too." Raj smiled. A big smile. And then he embraced Stuart, and slowly stood up, pulling the Idaho farm boy up with him, and steered him toward the bedroom.
Standing at the end of the queen bed, Stuart wrapped his arms around Raj and kissed his neck and his ears while slowly unbuttoning his shirt and unknotting his tie. When Stuart reached Raj's belt, which he deftly opened, Raj sighed deeply and leaned back into Stuart's chest; his moans where very slight as Stuart slid the suit pants down past his hips. Stuart's hands were stroking the front panel of the Calvin Klein "steel" boxers, forcing the thick cock inside upward toward the waist-band.
His hand switched to the rear, slipping inside the back of the tight white elastic and finding the warm cleft between Raj's firm beautiful ass cheeks. His fingers reached the tight pink hole, exploring inside with first one and then two; they performed a magic act on Raj, who became putty in Stuart's arms.
As they slumped on the queen bed, Raj was attempting to grasp Stuart's now-hard erection; it was just out of reach and still covered by his suit pants. Pushing Stuart onto his back, Raj undid his belt, his shirt buttons, and his necktie, and knelt over his clearly hard crotch, bending down to kiss him. Stuart, moaning, pushing his crotch upward into Raj, struggling to undress himself while pinned to the bed.
When they were both completely naked, panting, sweating, and ready to get crazy, Raj assumed that Stuart wanted to plunge his cock into him. He was correct, and so when Raj had positioned himself on the bed on all-fours, Stuart lubed the waiting asshole as well as his own cock, slowly feeding it into the beautiful ass in front of him.
Kneeling behind Raj, he slowly shoved his seven-point-nine inches of fat white cock into the hole, hearing the "hiss" from Raj as he pushed back into the motion. Stuart pulled all the way back out, then back in, slowly feeding the hole with his cock at a moderate pace, until Raj moaned `fuck me fuck me fuck me' and Stuart doubled his speed.
It was nearly a quarter-hour when Stuart was ready to load the beautiful ass in front of him with buckets of cum; all of the anxiety, anger, frustration, and need were forced into his hard cock and poured out in streams of thick creamy cum, dripping back out of the hole as his cock continued to piston in and out.
Raj collapsed on the bed on his face; Stuart rode him all the way down, keeping his cock embedded in Raj's ass. After a few moments, Raj turned his face to the side and said "Are you ready for about-face?"
"Oh Hell yes!" Stuart shouted, and pulling his cock out with a loud sucking sound, Raj then turned over and told Stuart to kneel over him and take his cock into his ass.
"I've been dying for this hooded cobra to fuck me!" Stuart shouted; it was true that Raj's nearly nine-inch cock, uncut, resembled a cobra when fully erect as it was now.
Stuart knelt over him as Raj raised his crotch upward to plunge into Stuart's hole; with little ceremony and no grace, Stuart took the cobra all in one thrust. Raj was already hot and ready to fuck and ready to cum, pushed to the limit by being fucked by Stuart. He tried to keep things slow, but they quickly got out of hand, and within a few minutes, he was spewing three weeks of pent-up cum into Stuart; Stuart came again also, landing small globs on Raj's stomach.
Relaxing onto his lover, Stuart lay his head on Raj's chest; Raj's thick hard cock was still embedded in the abused asshole above him, even as the hole slowly dripped cum onto the sheets under them. Stuart's cock, also still hard, was cemented between them, covered with the cum he had spewed as well as the residue of their fucking.
In the grey light of dawn, Stuart stretched and realized he and Raj were still glued together; Raj was snoring peacefully, so Stuart tried to quietly roll off to the side and tip-toe to the shower. The violence of pulling a cock out of an asshole and un-gluing a cock from the stomach of a sleeping lover were enough to destroy the beauty of slumber; Raj yawned and muttered and rolled to the side and returned to sleep.
Snickering, Stuart went to the shower and set the temperature at a few degrees cooler than the surface of the Sun and was enjoying his recollection of their night of fucking when an arm reached around his chest and a kiss was planted on his neck. "I just want to make sure you don't have a chance to feel alone and lonely and ignored again" was Raj's snarky comment. And that comment made Stuart's fat Idaho farm-boy cock spring to life again.