Date: Sun, 7 Apr 2013 13:22:09 -0700
From: Amar Patel <patelamar360@gmail.com>
Subject: Indian and American Relations (Chapter II)

Written by: Amar Patel

Disclaimer:

The following story is fictional. The author (myself) is older than 21,
anyone who is under the legal age (according to their country, state, or
provincial laws) to view erotic material should immediately dissuade
themselves from reading further.

The story is fictional and similarities to events and persons (living or
dead) are purely coincidental and unintentional. If you are offended by
homosexual erotica or it is illegal for you to read such material. Please
read no further.

Copyright:

The story may not be copied, distributed, in any way, shape or form without
consent from the author.


Opinions and Improvements can be sent to my email: patelamar360@gmail.com


This is the second installment in Indian American Relations. Thus far, I
got positive reviews and took some opinions into account.  So enjoy and sit
back. If you wish to continue to read mine and other authors works, it is
important you donate to Nifty. They have provided a rich amount of stories
for your enjoyment so it is only fair you give back ;). Note this chapter
cntains religious material due to the Maltese culture. This does not mean I
am imploring the religion on my readers,


				Chapter II


	Murali stretched out in his bed and yawned. He slowly rose and went
to the bathroom to relieve himself and prepare for the day.  He removed his
clothes and gazed at himself in the mirror, he was in need of a shave and
he ran his hand down his chest. He sighed, his pecs were beginning to grow
less firm and his six pack was in need of toning. He tried to avoid the gym
for a week since the encounter with the sexy Maltese fireman. Murali felt
his cock harden at the mere thought of Erik, the caramel skin and his dark
hair. The rugged five o'clock shadow and his hazel eyes that mesmerized
Murali. Murali remembered his masculine features his bright smile and the
figure of the statues in Rome. Murali looked at himself again and compared
Erik's face with his own.  Erik's was a beautiful combination of the
mediterranean and arab worlds that the Maltese were known for, a man that
would put models to shame with his full lips and seductive voice. He
could've been in a magazine if he wanted to. Murali felt his face flush, he
was handsome in India with his light brown eyes and his heart warming
smiles. His lips were thick and kissable and his dark coffee skin caught
the eye of many tourists. How could he compare? Murali thought.

	He let his mind wander as the hot water enveloped his body. Murali
soaped his washboard abs then slowly moved up and down his chest. He let
his fingers gently rub his brown nipples and encircled the tips with his
fingers, with a slight moan he let his hand grasp his rod. His hand began
rubbing up and down the thick brown shaft and he found himself rolling his
foreskin back and forth over his cock head. Murali imagined what Erik would
look like, his bulging muscles under that tight shirt. The caramel skin and
brown nipples he could suck on. Those abs that he can run his fingers down
and trace as he kissed those succulent lips. That firm ass he could
squeeze, and those broad manly shoulders he can lean on. Finally, the
prize. Murali could only wonder what it would be. A long thick shaft maybe
10 or 12 inches compared to Murali's 8, a slightly darker brown head that
fit well with his skin. Aaah how sweet Erik's cum would be on his tounge
and how hot it would be in his tight pink indian hole and plastered across
his face. Murali stroked faster and felt his balls clench and shot jets of
cream between his fingers and on the shower wall. He huffed and panted and
licked his indian man cream off his hand. Then he remembered a simple fact,
he was a shy man and a fantasy will stay a fantasy unless a miracle
occurs. How can he seduce a seemingly straight stud?

--- Meanwhile at the Calleja Residence

	Erik awoke to the blaring sound of his alarm. He pulled himself out
of bed and did his daily routine of showering and brushing his teeth. He
gelled his black hair into a stylish fashion and donned a blue plaid button
down. At the age of 25 he was at his best in terms of physical prowness. He
passed the fire fighting brutal work outs and his once under toned body
became hard and desired. He pulled on black shorts and grabbed his duffel
bag for his trip to the gym. He made himself a breakfast shake and made
some toast. The message icon was displayed on his phone, a voice mail. He
pressed the phone to his ear and listened.

"Bongu Nazzarenu.... Qed nimmissjak (Good morning Nazzarenu... I miss
you)." the voice was feeble almost a whisper.

"Nanna..." Erik with a sigh put the cell on the table and felt a sinking
feeling envelop him. His nanna was on her deathbed at the age of 83. The
doctos say that it is because of the passing of her husband Erik's nannu
(grandfather).  He does not hear his maltese name often, only through
her. He should have stayed in Malta but his ambitions led him to the U.S
. 10 years without seeing her. He felt his heart throb at the thought of
abandoning her when she needs him now.

	Erik leaned back and gazed at the Maltese flag hanging above his
television. His parents were in Malta now as well. They left 3 years ago,
the sheer contrast made them uncomfortable and homesick. Yet, they called
everyday to leave 15 minute long messages in rapid maltese. He had adjusted
to life in the U.S but his mother tounge did not weaken. He walked over to
the counter and grabbed a wooden box from the drawer. He withdrew a rosary
and knelt. He did not pray too often but he felt that this was a time for
it. He held the gold chain and let the pearls dangle with the golden cross.

"Sliem ghalik Marija, bil-grazzja mimlija, is-Sinjur mieghek, imbierka inti
fost in-nisa u mbierek il-frott tal-guf tieghek, Gesu.  Qaddisa Marija, omm
Alla, itlob ghalina, midinbin, issa w fis-siegha tal-mewt taghna. Amen."
	He recited the Hail Mary in reverence and let the white pearls fall
around his neck, the cross hung in the middle of his chest. With a last
recite he stood and decided that the gym would be his best relief, he
picked up and called in to work saying that he could not make it. He
departed his house his worries hanging heavy.

-- The gym

	Murali was curling the dumbells and sweat dripped down his
forehead. His arm muscles bulged and he huffed as he appraoched his 300th
curl. With last minute strength he placed the weights down and wiped his
face with a towel. Murali went to the locker room to fetch his water from
the locker. As he entered he felt his heart thump as he saw Erik sitting on
a bench tying his shoes.  Murali saw a grimace on Erik's face, his hands
were clasped and rested in his lap. Murali did not know whether to say
hello but that anxiety was broken when Erik looked up.

"Oh.. hey Khan. Didn't see ya there." Erik gave a forced grin.

"Hello, Calleja you look stressed my friend." Murali sat next to Erik.

"Just dealing with somethin no worries." Erik scratched the back of his
head. " Hey uhm... let's work out."

"Alright."Murali did not know how to comfort a stranger but felt that this
is a good start.

	Throughout their workout Erik was distant and responded in one word
answers. Murali felt guilty and an idea hit his head. There is nothing
better to lift the spirits then good food and a happy atmosphere.

"Erik? would you like to come with me to lunch? I know this great Indian
place down the street." Murali was shaking.  "Hmmm? oh yeah... that would
be good I guess." Erik sighed and felt that he shouldn't pass up a cheer me
up session.

	They headed to the locker room and started to dress out. Murali out
of the corner of his eye saw Erik in his underwear.  Erik's body was
exactly as he pictured, a maltese adonis with a large bulge in his
boxers. Murali seeing Erik turning finished dressing and waved Erik to meet
him out front. Moments later, Erik came out and both of them walked to the
Indian joint that Murali went to often. It was designed traditionally, the
lighting was bright and hindu gods were placed on shelfs. A stage sat near
the front of the dining area where performances of bollywood dance took
place. Erik gazed about in curiosity and Murali smiled in success. They
were seated and in a half hour were served their orders. They ate in
silence, an awkward air formed over the table. Finally, Murali spoke after
having to muster the courage.

"How's the food Calleja?" Murali was nervous.

"This is what I needed... a good hearty meal of curry. By the way call me
Erik." Erik took another mouthful of curry.

"I am glad you like it E-erik..." Murali gulped

"Thanks for this Murali , you're a good guy." Erik flashed a heavenly
smile.

Murali felt his face flush " You're welcome"

Erik looked curiously at him " Hey your face is red hahaha! Is it the
curry?"

Murali sputtered and quickly drank a swig of water "Yes it is the curry.."

"Well I'm done eatin so let me get the bill this time around."

"I cannot let you do that."

"It's not a problem for me to pay Murali, I owe you anyhow. Just relax
alrighty?"

"You owe me how?"

"I was dealing with somethin, and this made me feel better. Nice to know
you can rely on someone...  especially someone you barely met. We should
hang out more often, here I am going to give you my number and call me if
you want to do somethin." Erik tore a piece of napkin and picked up the pen
from the bill. With a slide ,his number landed in front of Murali.

" Thank you, I will call as soon as I can." Murali smiled from ear to ear,
his soul was filled with joy. Murali wanted to jump out of his seat but
restrained himself.

"Gotta go, I have something to arrange. Hope to hear from ya soon!" Erik
stood, and with a slight wave departed.

Murali watched him go , it was 4 p.m and he should head home as
well. Murali thanked the Cashier and left.

	Erik drove down the street looking for his destination, with a last
scan he spotted it. He got out of his car and entered into the business. It
was a typical office, a receptionist sat at her desk spinning a pen and the
lights of the office made her look pale and gave a sheen to her brown hair
in a tight bun. Erik approached her and she quickly looked up with
curiosity and indulgence of Erik.

"How can I help you today?" she asked adjusting her hair.

" Is Mr. Vella available?"

"Do you have an appointment?" She batted her eyelashes at him and Erik
ignored it.

"No... but tell him it is important."

"One moment please." She pressed a button on the receiver

"What is it Nancy?" a voice said, it sounded groggy and tired.

"Someone is here to see you." Nancy replied

"Does this person have a name?" the voice sounded agitated.

"Name?" She said looking at Erik

"Nazzarenu Calleja." Erik answered

"Nazzarenu Calleja, sir." Nancy spoke into the speaker.

When the voice replied it sounded more lively." Send him in."

	Nancy stood and led Erik to a oak door, a gold plaque was attached
with ornate letters. It read "Rikkardu Vella, Travel Agent to Western and
Southern Europe." Nancy opened the door and pressed her hand into Erik's
shoulder to lead him first. Erik turned and nodded in thanks and she closed
the door behind her. The office Erik entered was simple, a map of Europe
hung on the wall and posters of cities lined the walls. A cherry desk sat
in the middle of the room and a man sat writing furiously.  He was what a
typical business man would be, a pale gray suit and a light blue tie and
the graying hair in the chestnut. The man looked up and smiled. Erik sat
and gazed at his family's friend, his handsome features were aged but still
prominent and his blue eyes were still a reflection of the sea. His hair
made him distinguished and Rikkardu was still the man that used to be the
apple of many women and his wife.

Rikkardu still spoke with a European accent and his pearly white teeth
shown. " Nazzarenu! What a surprise!"

" Bongu Sinjur Vella (Good Morning Mr. Vella)." Erik sat in the chair
oppisite of Rikkardu.

"It seems like just yesterday you parents were begging me to take them home
haha." Rikkardu laid down his pen and gazed at Erik.

"I need a favor Sinjur." Erik said

" I would assume so, since you are here after ten years. It is not like you
decided to have coffee with an old man hahaha"

"I need to go to Malta in maybe a month or two, could ya plan me a trip to
Valletta?"

"Look at you talking like an American! My god it is like you were born here
Nazzarenu, could you not ask your parents?"

"Sinjur Vella please.." a lump formed in Erik's throat.

For the first time Rikkardu's smile faltered and worry fell " I will see
what I can do for you. Come back in a week or two."

"Grazzi (Thank you) Sinjur." Erik held out his hand.

" How american can you be? My wife would be dissapointed if she saw you
now. A boy who used to write pages and talk for hours in Maltese!" Rikkardu
stood and hugged Erik. " We are family no? This is not business for me with
you."

Erik patted the back of the shorter man's shoulder. "I guess you're right,
too much American in me now ." Erik chuckled

Rikkardu released him and handed Erik a business card " You need to call
more, I do not want to be dead by the time you call."

" You're only 55 Sinjur."

" Yes but look! Ten years, you go from bean pole to hunk! Be on beach charm
some ladies. Next time I see, you be married !"

Erik blushed in embarrassment " Sinjur, I still have plenty of time for
those.... sort of things."

" I am not rushing you!... well maybe a little. What you like? I
help. French? Spanish? Italian? Pretty girls many place!"

"Yes yes, let's just stop this talk for now." Erik scratched his head in
nervousness.

"So long as my wife plan it, traditional wedding I hope. In a big cathedral
in Spain?" Rikkardu looked eager.

"I will be sure to give you a call for that too...." Erik sighed.

" Fine fine Nazzarenu, go go! I do this for you and you charm a good girl
for me yes? Farewell " Rikkardu grinned

"I rather charm fires..." Erik muttered as he walked out of the office.

"Have a great day." Nancy called out

" Thanks you too." Erik said back

	Erik walked with his hands in his pockets and whistled. A aroma
filled his nostrils as he rounded the corner and he looked up and
girnned. " Man do I need some curry."

-----

	Murali danced to the music as he correlated his moves with his
partner. Bollywood dance was exhausting yet a pleasant expierence. With a
final twirl of his partner he caught her and the song ended. She smiled in
shyness and told him good job.  Murali wipes his forehead with his hand and
started packing his things. He put away his traditional clothes and donned
his tank and jeans. He ran his hand through his hair and felt the returning
curls, with a quick good bye he left the studio and walked towards home. As
he approached the local market he spotted a stand that stood out. A rather
interesting women in a green sari with gold trim sat on a stool by a
makeshift sign. She was heavy set and her black hair was tied in a long
braid, a red dot rested on her forehead and her fat arms were covered with
bracelets. She nodded at Murali and waved him over.

She spoke with a heavy accent and her face had a pound of make up from what
Murali could see. " Care to hear your fortune?"

Murali was skepctical and decided to play along. He sat and asked " How
much?"

" 7 dollars is fair? " She responed with a smile, her lipstick rubbed off
on her teeth.

"I suppose." Murali handed her the money and she took it without
hesitation.

"May I see your palm?" She held out her hand in invitation.

Murali gave her his hand and she held it for a minute or so. " Aaaah you
are blessed by Parvati."

Murali knew of Parvati goddess of love but still was skeptical. She saw his
face and continued.

"You will soon be in love and they will be quite the catch. Parvati has
favor in you.' She smiled

" That is quite va-" Murlai started to speak but she held her finger up

"United by change like Parvati and Shiva." She let go of his hand and bowed
her head.

"Thank you." Murali stood and started to walk away, he looked back and the
woman winked.

	Murali entered the market and grabbed a can of mango juice, he
chugged it and disposed of it in the waste basket.  He eventually reached
his apartment and climbed the stairs. He walked into the dark apartment and
flicked on the lights.  He undressed and showered and after changing opened
his laptop to his email. 5 messages were new, one from his parents who
congratulated him on his teaching job, two from his sisters who said they
were going on their honeymoons,one from his brother who apparently is going
to a U.N meeting. And the last one was a coupon for some travel
agency. Murali sighed and laid back on the bed.  His siblings were
successful yet he could barely scratch the surface. He lifted Erik's number
and started dialing then put the cell down. Did he have an exscuse to call?
Or could he just call? Erik did look upset earlier and Murali felt that he
needed the space.  He lifted his cell again and unlocked it. " I might as
well call." Murali thought.

The phone rang for awhile and Murali hoped he was home.

" Hello? " Erik said

Murali jumped " Oh hello Erik!"

"Murali?"

"Yes it is me."

" Guess you recovered from the curry huh? Funny thought I would be the one
to capitulate first."

"Haha yes I feel much better." Murali was relieved his lie worked.

"So I guess you want to meet up right?"

"Yes, are you free?" Murali crossed his fingers.

"Well I can't really go anywhere but do you wanna come over to my place?"
Murali felt a surge of panic as he said this.

"Oh yes that would be great." Murali strained to respond

"Alrighty, since we had indian food how about some Maltese food? I can
cook."

"That sounds good, what day?"

"Eh, how about friday ? We can watch some soccer or whatever indians watch
haha." even his laugh was sexy Murali thought.

" Friday is good, I will see you at the gym too so we can plan more."

" I will see you then Murali."

" See you."

	Murali pressed end and eagerly bounced on the bed. He felt relieved
that he had the chance to get to know Erik better.

---- End of Chapter II


This was mainly a characterization chapter. Hope you enjoy I made it longer
and added some erotica here and there. This is going to be a long story.
More to come soon my loyal readers. The language within the text is Maltese
and i would like to give thanks to my friend who helped me without knowing
the reason.