Thrissur Pooram Part 3
Stadium 7 PM
Around 7 pm the festivities ended and the crowd was dispersing in all directions. Many men were holding hands and huge gathering proceeded towards one direction, it was the Stadium. There was gait, energy, fervor, enthusiasm, excitement, purpose, desire, and lust in their walk. As we entered the stadium I had to remind my friends on our terms of engagement – divide and conquer, call and update on action zones, man-mines, and safety, inform if you decide to take one back to the room.
2 focus lamps stood on either side of the stadium and the semi circular gallery was slowly and steadily filling up. I stood at the center of the stadium and surveyed the audience (soon to be players). I didn’t know where to start the parikrama and was looking a bellwether. The southern and northern side of the gallery was both dark and colored everyone black, there was no partiality. From the center I could barely see silhouettes. By then my friends had vanished on their sexpedition.
I started from the Southern side of the gallery, I swiftly ascended the steps and by then there were so many men leaning their back against the parapet wall and standing like wax dolls in Madame Tassauds museum. Not sure if their posture meant they were waiting to get serviced or they were waiting to service.
Before I even encouraged the thought of picking one and settling down for a quickie I decided to go visit the exhibition. Mallu men came in various shapes, sizes, and skin. The spread in age, demographics, and ethnicity was breath taking. Didn’t matter if you were black or white, tall or short, thin or meaty, 20 or 60, there was unfulfilled desire in everyone. A few decided their play dates for the evening quickly and left the stadium, some used the stadium as a play ground and rest of others as audience to their play. Those who felt shy to have audience to their play descended the steps and disappeared behind the gallery/carpark. I waited and waited closer to the northern end of the gallery, but nothing to my tingle my taste (and buds) was around.
An hour into the play the inflow into the stadium almost stopped and I noticed buzzing activity in the southern end. I was also desperate to find something handy and dandy. Some were seated on the steps, some leaning against the wall and some trying to pull you into the action pit. The walk across the gallery was almost a triathlon race.
There were desirous animals watching me from behind the bush. Some making weird noises (hooting, mating calls, grope and groan) and making gestures to trap my attention. Some even touched me, but I ducked and pushed them aside and kept walking ahead. I felt like I was walking into a forest. By then my eyes were slowly adjusting to the dim light and darkness and my mind was processing those high adrenalin and testosterone filled images.
Was it Ford assembly line, oiled and regulated or was it ration shop queue, with pull, push and gossip or was it porn booth filled with graphic images, groping sounds and strong smell of hormones? I was walking south while an orderly crowd walked towards me paying their obeisance to the Kings standing against the wall. Some smooched their King and moved on, some walking on their knees orally satisfied him and moved on, some suckled his nipples like new born piglets, some hissed into his ears like hissing secrets in Nandi’s ears, some touching his gluteus like worshipping cows. A few Kings were worth paying obeisance, but it was difficult to jump the line. There was a queue for every kind of Seva. The worship was intense and faithfully fetish. Wow! It was religious sex and religiously sex! No jaragu..jaragu
Devotee or King? That was the choice that confronted me at this point of time. Remember election is a democratic process, Yes, by the people, of the people and for the people, but keeping your throne and satisfying people is your responsibility. I went through the crowd in half mind and suddenly I found a beehive of activity around me. Next minute my cargos were down and my tee covered my face and I was crowned the King with so many queens and drones around. A sex hive!
My mind went haywire from emotional and hormonal overload. I was reminded of the churning of the ocean of milk with the rope of snake and there were people on either side of me. There was competition not for the throne, but to satisfy the man on the throne. Who gets to stay longer, who gets the Kings juice? Sex was definitely king size!
But there is downside to so many hands and mouths reaching out to you. It can be rough and you don’t know what infections (inclusive of gingivitis) you get to take home as souvenirs. I couldn’t manage the crown and the thrown for long and suddenly I pulled up my pant and lowered my tee shirt and ran down the steps. Finally the runaway King decided to rest his bruised dick for the night from all the manhandling, while his friends stayed back at the fest for the feast.
City never sleeps should be the tag for this city. That night saw more action at the Round and finally it was rain that sent people back to their room. Next morning I heard more tales from my friends and we exchanges stories while waiting outside the temple for more Pooram action. I was still on a high from all the action in the last 24 hours and my roving eyes, high energy got me a few room invitations. I turned them down and headed home. My friends told me people were making out in the lobby, verandah and hallways in the hotels.
That evening I reached the train station an hour in advance and to my delight the train was delayed by half hour. This means I get to scan the passengers travelling to Bangalore (train to Bangalore leaves before Chennai). I entered the train station and decided to hang out by the lobby to scan every piece of luggage. Within minutes I got an invite from a Thrissur native and we found a safe spot to engage right behind the ATM machine. Let me tell you finding sex in Thrissur is easier than finding ATMs.
Two full days of sex, sex and only sex. From the moment I boarded the train in Chennai till I boarded the train back to Chennai there was action even before every milestone. Wow! Call it hell, heaven or God’s own country then I don’t mind living there forever. I have heard friends narrate stories of nude beaches across the world, about Amsterdam (sex capital of the world, but never heard such sexcapedes during a temple congregation. I have hit so many lingams in one go!I have a new record; if you are reading this let us go back again next year to create a new record of Linga points. First year they call them “Kanni samis”, should we call them “Sunni samis” and should we call visitors with 14+ years of experience as Gay samis instead of Guru samis”?
PS: It took me one week to sit down and narrate scene by scene, mile by mile and hour by hour. I am sure many of you will be appalled and I won’t be surprised if you asked me to take this off my blog spot. Thanks to my fag hag who gave me a place to stay and enjoy. I hope she doesn’t feel offended after reading me sexcapade.
Some of my friends think I have stooped down to make such posts and they opine that I’ve turned into a slut ever since this trip. May be they are right! I had sex with a vendor who came to meet my boss at work and I had web cam sex with a fireman in NY. I must tell you that I am no saint! This is my diary of life and I shall record every incident worth remembering and sharing.
Sexpedition continues….
Around 7 pm the festivities ended and the crowd was dispersing in all directions. Many men were holding hands and huge gathering proceeded towards one direction, it was the Stadium. There was gait, energy, fervor, enthusiasm, excitement, purpose, desire, and lust in their walk. As we entered the stadium I had to remind my friends on our terms of engagement – divide and conquer, call and update on action zones, man-mines, and safety, inform if you decide to take one back to the room.
2 focus lamps stood on either side of the stadium and the semi circular gallery was slowly and steadily filling up. I stood at the center of the stadium and surveyed the audience (soon to be players). I didn’t know where to start the parikrama and was looking a bellwether. The southern and northern side of the gallery was both dark and colored everyone black, there was no partiality. From the center I could barely see silhouettes. By then my friends had vanished on their sexpedition.
I started from the Southern side of the gallery, I swiftly ascended the steps and by then there were so many men leaning their back against the parapet wall and standing like wax dolls in Madame Tassauds museum. Not sure if their posture meant they were waiting to get serviced or they were waiting to service.
Before I even encouraged the thought of picking one and settling down for a quickie I decided to go visit the exhibition. Mallu men came in various shapes, sizes, and skin. The spread in age, demographics, and ethnicity was breath taking. Didn’t matter if you were black or white, tall or short, thin or meaty, 20 or 60, there was unfulfilled desire in everyone. A few decided their play dates for the evening quickly and left the stadium, some used the stadium as a play ground and rest of others as audience to their play. Those who felt shy to have audience to their play descended the steps and disappeared behind the gallery/carpark. I waited and waited closer to the northern end of the gallery, but nothing to my tingle my taste (and buds) was around.
An hour into the play the inflow into the stadium almost stopped and I noticed buzzing activity in the southern end. I was also desperate to find something handy and dandy. Some were seated on the steps, some leaning against the wall and some trying to pull you into the action pit. The walk across the gallery was almost a triathlon race.
There were desirous animals watching me from behind the bush. Some making weird noises (hooting, mating calls, grope and groan) and making gestures to trap my attention. Some even touched me, but I ducked and pushed them aside and kept walking ahead. I felt like I was walking into a forest. By then my eyes were slowly adjusting to the dim light and darkness and my mind was processing those high adrenalin and testosterone filled images.
Was it Ford assembly line, oiled and regulated or was it ration shop queue, with pull, push and gossip or was it porn booth filled with graphic images, groping sounds and strong smell of hormones? I was walking south while an orderly crowd walked towards me paying their obeisance to the Kings standing against the wall. Some smooched their King and moved on, some walking on their knees orally satisfied him and moved on, some suckled his nipples like new born piglets, some hissed into his ears like hissing secrets in Nandi’s ears, some touching his gluteus like worshipping cows. A few Kings were worth paying obeisance, but it was difficult to jump the line. There was a queue for every kind of Seva. The worship was intense and faithfully fetish. Wow! It was religious sex and religiously sex! No jaragu..jaragu
Devotee or King? That was the choice that confronted me at this point of time. Remember election is a democratic process, Yes, by the people, of the people and for the people, but keeping your throne and satisfying people is your responsibility. I went through the crowd in half mind and suddenly I found a beehive of activity around me. Next minute my cargos were down and my tee covered my face and I was crowned the King with so many queens and drones around. A sex hive!
My mind went haywire from emotional and hormonal overload. I was reminded of the churning of the ocean of milk with the rope of snake and there were people on either side of me. There was competition not for the throne, but to satisfy the man on the throne. Who gets to stay longer, who gets the Kings juice? Sex was definitely king size!
But there is downside to so many hands and mouths reaching out to you. It can be rough and you don’t know what infections (inclusive of gingivitis) you get to take home as souvenirs. I couldn’t manage the crown and the thrown for long and suddenly I pulled up my pant and lowered my tee shirt and ran down the steps. Finally the runaway King decided to rest his bruised dick for the night from all the manhandling, while his friends stayed back at the fest for the feast.
City never sleeps should be the tag for this city. That night saw more action at the Round and finally it was rain that sent people back to their room. Next morning I heard more tales from my friends and we exchanges stories while waiting outside the temple for more Pooram action. I was still on a high from all the action in the last 24 hours and my roving eyes, high energy got me a few room invitations. I turned them down and headed home. My friends told me people were making out in the lobby, verandah and hallways in the hotels.
That evening I reached the train station an hour in advance and to my delight the train was delayed by half hour. This means I get to scan the passengers travelling to Bangalore (train to Bangalore leaves before Chennai). I entered the train station and decided to hang out by the lobby to scan every piece of luggage. Within minutes I got an invite from a Thrissur native and we found a safe spot to engage right behind the ATM machine. Let me tell you finding sex in Thrissur is easier than finding ATMs.
Two full days of sex, sex and only sex. From the moment I boarded the train in Chennai till I boarded the train back to Chennai there was action even before every milestone. Wow! Call it hell, heaven or God’s own country then I don’t mind living there forever. I have heard friends narrate stories of nude beaches across the world, about Amsterdam (sex capital of the world, but never heard such sexcapedes during a temple congregation. I have hit so many lingams in one go!I have a new record; if you are reading this let us go back again next year to create a new record of Linga points. First year they call them “Kanni samis”, should we call them “Sunni samis” and should we call visitors with 14+ years of experience as Gay samis instead of Guru samis”?
PS: It took me one week to sit down and narrate scene by scene, mile by mile and hour by hour. I am sure many of you will be appalled and I won’t be surprised if you asked me to take this off my blog spot. Thanks to my fag hag who gave me a place to stay and enjoy. I hope she doesn’t feel offended after reading me sexcapade.
Some of my friends think I have stooped down to make such posts and they opine that I’ve turned into a slut ever since this trip. May be they are right! I had sex with a vendor who came to meet my boss at work and I had web cam sex with a fireman in NY. I must tell you that I am no saint! This is my diary of life and I shall record every incident worth remembering and sharing.
Sexpedition continues….
