I have to admit that my story is unusual. You might even say strange. I cannot give you all the details you might like; just accept that these events took place over the last ten years in India, which I have made my home since I left my commission in the RAF when I was in my late twenties.

It was through a colleague called Jake in the RAF that I first came to India. We became close friends, though there was never a hint of any sexual relationship. He was aggressively heterosexual and in those days the British services were not the place to admit that you might have assorted tastes.

He had some Indian blood in him and was a fine figure of a man. In other circumstances maybe, just maybe I could have told him how attractive I found him and who knows...?

He first took me to visit the family home once when we were on leave. He and his father were remarkably similar: tall, athletic, a little haughty and physically desirable. But that is where the likeness ended. They did not get on well at all. I often heard animated and even angry discussions when I was not near enough to grasp the substance of the conversation. It appeared that Carew (the oddly named father) was anxious for Jake to come back home to work on some mysterious family responsibility. That was not on Jake's agenda. In fact when I left the service, he signed on for another twelve years, making the clearest statement possible that India was not in his future.

My first thought was a good holiday, perhaps to see more of the world. Where better to start than another visit to Carew? He was pleased to see me and kept urging me to stay longer.

I had been there for about three weeks when I realised that he spent a lot of time out of the house. He often went down one of the jungle trails. I had followed it several times as I had been exploring and, apart from noticing that a local landowner had erected some very high fences in one area, it was of little special interest. I decided to follow him one afternoon and was successful in keeping out of sight while tracking him. At length he came to a gate in the fence, unlocked it and went through. Curiosity was always my downfall and I had to press on. My one fear was that he kept something dangerous there that I shouldn't want to meet unarmed. Imagine my surprise when I came to a clearing and saw, almost hidden in the undergrowth, a model village. It was Indian, of course, but looked as though it had been built for an exhibition. Carew was sitting on a grassy bank in the centre. That was a surprise. What happened next was surreal.

Three small figures approached him. He spoke to them. At first I thought they were gibbons, trained for some kind of circus act. They were wearing clothes and walking easily on their hind legs. But something was wrong. Somehow they were not properly proportioned.

I was stunned when I realised what I was looking at. These were not animals; they were people - adults, fully developed, but the size of midgets.

That evening, I decided I had to know the truth. Was this some ghastly genetic experiment? Was there some disease, some radiation perhaps that had caused this abnormality?

We had both enjoyed a few drinks when I confessed what I had done. He was silent for a long time. Finally he spoke.

'Mike, I have a problem. What you saw today is a tribe of folk that almost no-one knows about. Some five hundred years ago, the local rajah decided he wanted to selectively breed people. He teamed up his warriors with the strongest and most nubile girls and then - just for a laugh - he found the smallest people in his kingdom and made them breed. They became famous, favourites of the court and over many generations were bred smaller and smaller. I have to say that I believe there is some genetic problem with them now - possibly something to do with inbreeding - today their average height is less than fifty centimetres.

'About two hundred years ago, there was a run of bad luck and these 'little people', as I call them, were blamed. They were persecuted and most were wiped out. An ancestor of mine hid some of them on his land and they were forgotten. Here am I now the last of the clan, apart from Jake and they absolutely depend on me. If I told the world outside they would murder them or worse, put them into a circus.'

He paused. For a long time, we sat in silence.

'Mike, I've no right to ask this, but the fact is I have no-one else. Will you become their guardian after I have gone?'

So I began a new career. The estate needed some attention and I enjoyed the work. I got to know the little folk well and settled into my new life. One other thing happened that I ought to confess. Carew and I became lovers.

He would often tell me I should find an attractive girl and produce a family. There had been some girlfriends and I had sex with some of them, but I knew there was something else I daren't think about too much. One night after we had both drunk too much the conversation came round to sex. Carew asked if I had ever had sex with another man. I told him I hadn't and he suggested my education was incomplete. It wasn't long before we were both naked and simulating sex. I say simulating because we had both too much alcohol to get much of a stiffy. We woke up with a hangover, naked and in the same bed. Later on in the day we talked over what had happened and admitted that we both, as it is described today, 'swung both ways'.

He was a gentle, tender lover and I owe him a great deal. I learned about sex within a loving relationship, not just animal satisfaction. We were complete.

The blow came after about a year and a half. I knew Carew wasn't feeling too good and he confessed to me that he thought he had cancer but wanted nature to 'take its course'. He didn't think much of the local medics. But one day he collapsed and I had to send for help. The local doctor took me aside and told me that he hadn't long to live. But he only confirmed what I already knew.

They left in the ambulance and the main gates closed behind them. I was alone and in charge. Alone? Well - alone apart from a couple of dozen manikins securely locked in their own enclosure half a mile away. They depended on Carew and he was depending on me to care for them in his absence. I tried not to allow myself to think of what would happen if he did not recover.

I started to tidy up the living quarters. Suddenly I heard someone call my name. There was no doubt. The voice was guttural yet high pitched. It was one of the little folk. I looked towards the door of the kitchen. Sochi stood there, looking anxious.

'Will Carew be alright, Mike?' he asked me urgently. Obviously he also was considering his future.

'What are you doing here?' I am afraid my tone was a little sharp. 'You folk aren't supposed to be in the house. It's not safe.'

'Really, I can look after myself. I often come and sometimes stay awhile.'

There was something appealing about the way he spoke. He was pure Indian and spoke in the traditional accent, which we Brits so love to mock. He rolled his head gently from side to side, a little indignantly. He may only have been eighteen inches tall, but he clearly had his pride! I calmed down.

'Well, Sochi, it doesn't look good. He's not as young as he used to be...'

He took a deep breath. 'If...if he doesn't come back...will you...will you..'

'For a while, at least, I won't let you down.' I felt my words were better than my feelings but he relaxed.

'Mike, can I talk to you?'

I wanted to say that I couldn't imagine anything stopping him if he wanted. 'Sure, fine'. I sat on a stool and gently lifted him to an armchair next to it. We were at eye level, our faces a few inches apart.

'Mike, I know Carew is ill. I knew him ten years ago and I have watched him decline. You have been very good for him. You have brought back pleasure into his life he really thought had gone for good.'

My expression must have shouted the question I didn't want to ask.

'No, Mike, it's alright, really. I have often been here and watched you two big folk having pleasure. No, don't get upset. I want to tell you something. Carew and I have a very special relationship. At first, I started it as a kind of thank you or even payment for all he did for us, keeping us, protecting us. We would certainly be dead without him.'

He certainly had my attention. I was riveted to him. What the Hell was he talking about?

'Mike. I want to serve you like I served Carew. I can bring you pleasure you have never dreamt of.'

I cleared my throat self-consciously. 'What...er, what have you got in mind?'

'Much easier to show you that to tell you. Lie down on the floor - on your back.'

Mystified, I obeyed. He jumped down, knelt beside me and started pummelling my stomach. 'Just relax and, let it happen.' I did as I was commanded.

I was wearing a loose, buttoned shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. Soon the shirt was undone and he was roving freely over my torso. It took me a little while to get used to the idiocy of the situation, but I shut my eyes, which helped and I began to enjoy myself. I really had no idea where this would lead, so I was pleasantly surprised when I felt him tugging at the waistband button of my slacks. It did not resist him for long and I waited for the zip to surrender next. But to my surprise he pushed his way inside and began to stroke my erection. Both hands travelled all over it, from tip to pubis. He fondled, kissed and gently teased with his teeth. He wrapped his whole body round it and massaged my balls. He tugged at my hair and I just groaned and gasped in reply.

Suddenly he reversed out, turned round and slid off my stomach. 'Time to get undressed' he ordered and stripped. He was in fact, perfectly proportioned and had a nice physique. I found his dusky skin especially appealing, not least as it contrasted with his jet black cock, jauntily erect and offering to challenge all comers.

'Get naked, then,' he barked at me.

I hadn't moved; I was enjoying looking at him too much.

So I did as I was told and lay back on the carpet, totally naked, with a randy midget climbing onto my chest! He lay flat out on top of me. He took my knob in his hands and massaged the area just below it. Then he began to tongue my slit! I cannot describe the experience. It was just electric. In no time he was lapping up my pre-cum. From his point of view there were gobfuls of it available!

He changed position and lay full length on my erection, using my scrotum as a pillow. He relaxed for a while then used his own body to rub up and down my pleasure, wrestling with my balls as he did it. At length he knelt up. I opened my eyes. He had his back to my face and was holding my knob in both hands. Suddenly I guessed what he was going to do. I must have tensed with apprehension as he called gently over his shoulder, 'Relax, Mike. It'll be just fine.'

I felt his end between the lips of my urethra. He held my knob firmly and began to make his entrance. He certainly needed no lube. I had produced more than enough for all he could need. I felt the pressure as the opening was passed. He knew what he was doing; this was clearly not his first time. He knew that the entrance is not a straight tunnel; there is a bend near the top. He pressed down hard, laterally and passed it. I was aware of a strange bulk inside my tube. It wasn't painful or even uncomfortable, but I could feel that it was a tight fit. He relaxed for a few seconds and thrust in further. At last I felt his hair tickling and even invading my opening and I knew he had given me all he had.

However strange it seemed, this was bliss. His firm body wrapped around my member and his dick exploring virgin space. Then he began to move. Putting it bluntly, he fucked me. His style was varied. Sometimes long and slow, sometimes a hungry, angry piston belting out its desire.

The effect on me was amazing. As he fucked my opening, his stomach was massaging my hard knob and the bottom of his rib cage tearing up and down over the most sensitive spot on my whole body!

Hard as I tried, I could not contain it for ever. The engine blew, the dam burst and my loins convulsed as I ricocheted off the gates of heaven.

The effect on Sochi was almost comic. The force of the explosion shot him out of his burrow. He sat back heavily on my solar plexus and was drenched in my produce. He laughed and began to roll in it and slide all over my front. When he paused he had more orders to give.

'Go and run the bath and we can get cleaned up.'

Of course I did as I was told and soon we were both relaxing in warm water. Well I relaxed. He could - and did - swim in it. It was inevitable I suppose, that play started up again. It takes time learning how to pleasure someone in a totally different dimension than your own, but I was a quick learner and we had some fun. We finished with me sitting up, my legs wide apart at a height where he could have access to the part of me that interested him most. This time he stood and went straight in from the front. His mood was more serious; he had come for a purpose. For a while he pumped me with good, steady, full-length strokes. Then, grabbing me just behind my knob, he tensed, shivered and cried out. I felt the mini-earthquake as he sowed his seed into ground that had never been fertilised before. It gave me a warm glow to think that the next time I shot my load I could be shooting his too.


Life is passing pleasantly here, but I am aware of the fact that I cannot be away for more than a couple of days and I need a co-worker. How are you fixed?


Jon Benedict

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