Marc CFNM

Marc CFNM 5

By Bordertown

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Marc CFNM, Part 5

Dear Reader,

This is Marc CFNM, Part 5 – Words: 3400. In this story, Marc tells Jade about his trip to India.

Note: for photos of real-life CFNM Indian monks: https://mariecfnm.blogspot.com/search?q=Jain

***

Marc’s grandfather was grooming him to be a future leader in his global business empire, and Marc often accompanied him on trips overseas. His elite schooling in Montreal was supplemented with private tutors and experts for all subjects. And Marc sat internationally recognized exams.

***

Initially, 15-year-old Marc was overwhelmed by Mumbai; an intoxicating, exotic mega-city of 20 million – the financial and entertainment hub of India. But after a week, when they were set to leave, his mother suggested he extend his cultural experience. His grandfather found a boutique, international school that would take him for six weeks at short notice – for an outrageous fee of course. They had just 25 students: some from wealthy Indian families; others from overseas. The student/teacher ratio was 4-to-1. There were 15 girls and 10 boys aged 11 to 17. For accommodation, it was arranged for him to stay with an expat family in the exclusive Mumbai suburb of Worli.

***

Miss Darika had been teaching at the boutique school for six months. She was from Jaine, a northern province of India, and at 22, was beautiful like a Bollywood actress. She wore figure hugging dresses that emphasized her delicious shape and her large, prominent breasts.

And right away, all the girl students were taken with cool, good-looking Marc, and he quickly became popular. It was the same when he walked around the city, as he received a lot of attention and smiles from girls.

The boutique school’s classes were intimate, and at times unstructured due to the low student/teacher ratio. And despite the differing ages, the students were at times taught together, depending on the subject.

On Thursday afternoon, Miss Darika gave a group lesson on Indian history and culture. They all sat in a large circle and talked about the diverse country of 1.4 billion. Miss Darika spoke of her home province of Jaine in the north, and of the religious order of monks who reject all material things. “And this includes clothing, as the monks’ parade naked to show their disapproval of possessions.”

Miss Darika seemed comfortable discussing male nudity, but this revelation caused some surprise, especially amongst the girls.

Thirteen-year-old Samara from Indonesia raised her hand. “You mean the monks are totally naked, and you can see like … everything?”

This question caused a ripple of giggling in the room. Miss Darika nodded. “The monks are naked most often, especially in public. They believe that clothing represents materialism which they reject as unnecessary vanity.” The beautiful teacher continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “And there is a village in Jaine where boys also go naked. This is a traditional practice, and part of the village’s culture that goes back in antiquity.”

There were more surprised expressions, smiling, and a few more questions before Miss Darika turned to Priti, a 14-year-old Indian girl in the class. “From our conversations, I know that Priti has spent time in this village.”

Priti resembled her name in that she was pretty. But she appeared embarrassed to be singled out in front of the group.

Miss Darika smiled. “Please share your experience with the class.”

Priti remained reluctant, but Miss Darika coaxed her, and the young girl explained that she wasn’t from Jaine, but a nearby province where there weren’t any monks. Three years’ ago, she and her sisters went to Jaine and stayed with some cousins who took them to see the parading naked monks. And then to the boys’ coming-of-age festival in the village.

Miss Darika told the class that all over India, there were various ways in which coming-of-age was observed, but that in this particular village the ceremony is a significant event that attracts a large audience. Once every three years, it is tradition for boys aged 13 – 15 to participate in the ceremony where they are transitioned into manhood. And that the next coming-of-age festival was happening in a few weeks’ time. “All are welcome to witness the festival,” she added. “But the audience is nearly all girls.” She asked Priti to continue.

Priti hesitated again, searching for the right words. “We’d heard about the naked monks, and we were curious to see them.”

“How old were you back then?” another girl student asked.

“Eleven.”

“And you saw the naked monks?”

“Yes.”

“How old are the monks?”

Priti thought about this. “Some are younger, maybe 30. Others are much older.”

“And they are totally naked?”

“Yes.”

There were a few gasps and some more giggling.

Miss Darika said, “Please tell the class about the coming-of-age festival.”

Priti put her hands to her pretty face. She leaned forward, then sat up again. She lowered her hands, still embarrassed. “The ceremony was a bit crazy, and there were lots and lots of girls, and lots of boys – naked boys, that is.”

Priti hesitated, and Miss Darika took over. She explained that the festival takes place near a river. Each boy is assigned a group of girls called Helpers who prepare him for what they call The Walk of Men. The naked boys are colorfully body painted and decorated by the Helpers. Then they parade through a gauntlet of girls to the river where they are washed clean. And when they emerge, they have symbolically passed into manhood.

A girl put up a hand. “Priti, were you one of the Helpers?”

It took more encouragement, but Priti described being in a group of Helpers assigned to a 14-year-old boy called Satish. As was tradition, the girls made their own body paint and decorations for him. And she explained that during the ceremonial period, the Helpers are put in charge of the boys who must obey their instructions. Failure to obey is considered shameful and met with punishment from village elders. On the day of the festival, they took Satish to the tents by the river where they painted and decorated him from head-to-toe.

Addison, a 12-year-old girl from Australia raised her hand. “This boy Satish was totally naked?”

“Yes.”

“And you painted him all over?”

Priti nodded.

Another girl asked. “How many Helpers did Satish have?”

“Six girls for each boy. Sometimes more. The girls outnumber boys because so many come from outside of Jaine to witness the ceremony, and to become a Helper, if permitted.”

Twelve-year-old Addison had another question. “Was Satish embarrassed to be naked?”

Priti nodded. “Yes, I remember he was shaking, and he was a little ashamed, especially when he got ... umm, you know …” Priti put her hands to her face again, and it was obvious to Marc that the 14-year-old boy had got an erection.

“What happened?” Addison asked innocently.

An awkward silence followed, then Miss Darika said, “Priti, you may answer Addison’s question if you wish.”

Priti said, “Addy, I’ll tell you later.”

Another girl asked, “How old were Satish’s Helpers?”

“Mostly 11 or 12, I think. Or 13. One girl was maybe 14.”

There was silence as the group thought about this answer. And then some more talk, and more questions. All the girl students, both Indian and foreign were excited about the festival. Besides Priti, three other Indian girl students had heard of it but had never attended. And the other three knew nothing of it. None of the foreign students were aware of it.

Miss Darika smiled her biggest smile yet. She suggested that as a unique cultural experience, they could take a school trip to Jaine to attend the upcoming festival before the end of the school term. And Jaine was only a 2-hour flight from Mumbai. She added that the village considered it an honor for non-local boys to participate, and this did happen on occasion. And once-in-a-blue-moon, a foreign, non-Indian boy would participate; an even bigger honor. Although, that hadn’t happened for decades now.

Miss Darika locked eyes with Marc as she spoke. Marc’s spine shivered. His lovely teacher continued. “Would any of the boys like to participate in the upcoming festival? It would be considered an honor by the villagers.”

No one answered. The boys appeared nervous. The girls looked around the circle and smiled.

“Marc – how about you? And don’t worry, there is a strict no phones, no photography policy.”

Marc hesitated, then asked, “Is there a similar festival for girls?”

Miss Darika shook her head. “It is forbidden for girls to be naked in public, but for boys it is encouraged, and at times demanded.” Marc stayed silent. Miss Darika said, “I’ll put you down as a maybe. And I’m sure some of your girl classmates would love to be your Helpers.”

The girls smiled. Lots of white teeth on display. Some giggled. Marc was non-committal. He had a bad feeling about the coming-of-age festival.

Miss Darika raised a hand, and her voice. “Hands up who would like to join me in Jaine.”

Around the circle, all 15 girls raised their hands. But Marc’s hand stayed down, like all the other boys. But he had a premonition that he was going to be involved, no matter what.

On Friday after school, Miss Darika told Marc that if he participated in the ceremony, then at the end of the school term, they could spend some quality time in her private apartment. But of course, this had to remain a secret between them.

***

The expat family was from Oslo, Norway, and for the last nine years they had lived in

various countries around the world. They had four boys aged 9, 11, 12 and 13. The boys were brothers, except the 12-year-old who was a cousin they had adopted when his parents died. The boys loved Marc, and called him their big brother. They wanted him to stay forever.

They lived in a 5-story mansion in a gated compound called the Oasis in the exclusive Mumbai suburb of Worli. As Marc expected, the family had a live-in housemaid, Usha, 23. The maid had a fun personality, and Usha and Marc got on well together. And the Norwegian parents were humanitarians, and through a complicated situation, they had recently taken in six young Indian girls to live with them. The girls were a mix of sisters and cousins whose families had fallen on hard times. But through their privileged position, the expats were able to accommodate the girls, and help with their education.

“The girls have been with us for only a month, but they are already part of our family.”

They assisted Usha with the household chores and stayed with her on the basement level of the house.

The six girls were Kamal, 17; Anika, 14; Janya, 13; Kajal, 12; Deepa 12, and Saanvi 11. Kamal was very pretty, as were the five younger girls. Since arriving in Mumbai, Marc had been impressed with the number of beautiful and exotic looking women and girls he’d seen.

The girls called the parents Aunty and Uncle – terms of respect in India. They were lovely and polite, and when helping Usha around the house, they wore simple housemaid dresses, with their long-dark hair tied back.

The biggest surprise for Marc was that the four boys, 9, 11, 12, and 13, were often naked inside the house, but only when the father was absent. The mother explained that the boys had been naked since forever, and it was a lifestyle they were used to. But when the six Indian girls moved in, the father forbade any nudity. But this edict didn’t last, and when he left the house, the boys reverted to their clothing-free habits. And now, their ongoing nakedness was an open secret, unbeknownst to the father.

Their four jiggly, uncircumcised dicks were an unexpected source of fun and amusement for the six girls, and Usha. The fun-loving housemaid had been with the family for 12 months, and was well-used to the boys’ nudity. But with the arrival of the six girls, she had opportunity to play it up. She made regular, explicit comments about the boys’ penises, and she would often chide the girls for staring so much. This was especially true with the eldest boy, 13, who sported a large, prominent penis like Marc, with a nice pair of testicles. Usha would speak to the girls in both English and Hindi. Marc didn’t understand Hindi, but from Usha’s gestures, and the girls’ giggling and embarrassed reactions, he knew what they were talking about. Sometimes, Usha would cover the eyes of the younger girls, 12-year-olds Kajal and Deepa, and 11-year-old Saanvi, and with a big fuss

insist that they stop staring at you know what!

The four Norwegian boys remained unaffected, pretty much. They wandered around the house non-chalantly, their dicks swinging and jiggling.

With a devilish expression, Usha asked Marc when he would also be going naked in the house. She did this several times, and always in the presence of the girls. But Marc would just smile and decline to answer.

The Norwegian mother reminded Marc of his own mother, as she seemed to relish the tension and fuss her naked boys created.

***

Saturday morning. 7:30am:

He blinked awake as sunlight poured through the windows. Seventeen-year-old Kamal had entered his bedroom and opened the curtains, as she did every morning. From the moment they’d met, Marc and Kamal had had an instant connection, and the tension between them was palpable.

The house was warm, and Marc wore pajama pants with just one bedsheet to cover himself. And like most mornings, he had a bone-hard erection. From day one, he’d tried to hide his erections from Kamal, but with limited success. After realizing that part of her chores was waking the boys and getting them out of bed, which now included Marc, he’d tried wearing tight briefs to bed, but they were too uncomfortable.

So each morning, he’d wake to find Kamal standing obediently at his bedside with a bathrobe. She always greeted him with the Indian gesture of respect: hands together in front, head bowed. “Namaste, Master Marc.” And each morning, depending on the position of his body and the bedsheet, the shape and bulge of his erection was usually noticeable, or obvious.

***

The previous night, he’d had an intense wet-dream. And in the morning, had woken to find Kamal standing at his bedside, as usual. “Namaste, Master Marc.”

His pajama pants were around his knees, and his tenting erection was the most obvious to date. But even more obvious was the white cum stain on the bedsheet from his ejaculation earlier in the night.

Upon waking, his routine was to bunch up the top bedsheet, sit up, and place his feet on the floor. Kamal would hold out the robe as he stood and turned. Then he’d take a shower in the luxurious bathroom.

Previously at this point, Kamal had left his bedroom. But yesterday after showering he’d heard his phone beep. He’d walked back into the bedroom, still drying his hair. His erection had half-deflated, and hung down at a 45-degree angle. It took him a moment to realize that Kamal was still there. He reached the bed, butt naked, his big swinging cock in full view. It was a surreal moment. Marc had a towel, but he froze, and didn’t cover himself. It felt like he was still dreaming. Kamal was on the other side of the bed. Her eyes dropped to his semi-erection, but otherwise she had no reaction.

She removed the bedsheets. “Master Marc, I will wash these for you.” Then her bare feet padded from the room.

***

That was yesterday, and now it was Saturday. Marc bunched up the bedsheet to hide the bulge of his obvious hard-on.

Kamal smiled down at him, knowingly. “Saturday, Master Marc. No school today. Namaste.”

They performed the usual routine, and he slipped on the robe. But this time Marc sat down on the edge of the bed. He gestured with this hand. “Please sit.”

She sat as requested, and placed her hands in the Namaste position. “Master Marc, my humblest apologies for yesterday. I returned for the bedsheets, and didn’t think you would be out so soon.” But the glimmer in her brown eyes told him what she really meant: I enjoyed seeing your big cock.

“Kamal, can I ask your advice with something?”

Over the past week, they’d had many conversations, and he valued her opinion. He told her about the coming-of-age festival in Jaine, and that his teacher, Miss Darika was organizing a school visit there in a few weeks’ time.

Kamal nodded. “Aunty and Usha said you are going to this festival.”

Marc was surprised. “They did?”

“Yes. Both Aunty and Usha are aware of this.”

Marc knew that somehow his mother was involved, like a puppet-master behind the scenes.

Kamal continued, “I have heard of such festivals, but have never attended myself. I understand that the boys are naked, and that these ceremonies are more common in India than in other places.”

It seemed that Kamal, like Miss Darika, was also comfortable discussing male nudity.

Marc said, “As a foreign boy, my teacher wants me to participate in the ceremony. The villagers would be honored.” He hesitated. “But I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

For the first time since they’d met, Kamal gave him a full smile. She dropped her head and laughed a little. “Master Marc, I think this will be an interesting experience for you.”

Marc didn’t say anything.

“And Indian girls are curious about boys, especially foreign boys, so it would be very

interesting for them also.”

There was silence between them. They sat close. Kamal touched his arm. “What do you think Master Marc? Will you participate?”

“Maybe.”

She squeezed his arm. “You must go.”

“Many of the girls will be very young.”

“You are a foreign boy, and very handsome, and Indian girls of all ages will be excited and pleased to see you.”

Marc didn’t respond.

Kamal said, “You have seen what happens when Uncle is away, and the boys go naked in this house.”

Marc nodded.

“The girls enjoy this very much. They think it is very funny.”

Marc wondered if behind the scenes, his mother had also arranged his stay in this Worli mansion, where the boys just happen to go nude.

He said, “What if Uncle finds out?”

Kamal shook her pretty head. “Aunty made us all swear to a secret, that we must never allow Uncle to discover this.” She squeezed his arm again. “And Aunty enjoys it very much. She chides the boys, but she likes the girls to see them naked. She is very proud of them.”

Marc sensed that Kamal had something else to tell him. He sat quietly. She continued. “Aunty would like you to also go naked in the house with the boys. She thinks it will be good practice for the festival – but of course, only when Uncle is not at home.”

Marc’s heart skipped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Kamal said, “There are only six Indian girls in this house, not hundreds and thousands like at the festival, so it will be an easy introduction for you.”

Marc remained speechless. Kamal continued. “And Usha says the girls can paint and decorate you, like at the festival, and this will also be a good preparation.”

Marc didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t what he expected to happen in India.

Kamal stood up. “Excuse me Master Marc, but I must attend to my chores.” Her bare feet padded to the door. She turned, her hands together in front. “It is Saturday, and when the boys return from their soccer games, we will wash them in the shower, all together.”

“You will?”

“Yes, we have done this recently, as Aunty demands it. She says they are typical young boys

that don’t wash properly, and this Saturday shower we give them is the only proper wash they have each week.”

Marc said, “Who washes the boys?”

“All of the girls do this.”

Marc was speechless. Again.

“You are welcome to join us, Master Marc. The washing of the boys is a lot of fun. Namaste.” She turned and left the room. The padding of her bare feet faded away into silence.

(End of File)