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The story of Peaches and Sweetpea Part 1

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Neiladri Sinha Jr. :-

To begin with, the name is Neiladri Sinha Jr.; everyone calls me Neil.
I am 6’4, bronze skin, jet black hair and black eyes; like any other regular Indian of Bengal ethnicity. Hailing from an aristocratic clan from Bengal, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. To know my story, one has to understand me by knowing my past.
As a child, I traveled across the length and breadth of India since both my parents are high-ranking Government officials. As a result, I have been to places in the state of Rajasthan, where there’s no primary education. Hence, I had to skip four academic years and join 6th standard right after qualifying 2nd standard. Luckily, I was a bookworm back then and found no difficulty to cope up with the higher level of education I was exposed to out of blue.
Lucky for my younger brother Neilesh, my parents were transferred to the Northeastern hill station Shillong six months later and he took the usual academic course of starting his Primary education by joining 1st standard after completing Kindergarten. I was urged by my parents to join 3rd standard; but perceiving it as a demotion, I refused to go down the ‘Primary Lane’. Luckily, my Thammi (Bengali word for paternal grand mother) supported me and convinced my parents to let me do what I want to. This gave me the first taste of self-importance and confidence, and a belief that I can do whatever I want to and nobody can stop me. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a spoilt brat and rather this attitude helped me in achieving my ambitions.

Childhood was quite boring, and I was a rebel. Being high-ranking Government Officials, my parents have a class and most of their interactions and transactions are with the crème de la crème of the society. My lack of interest in politics and mingling with the general masses by giving a thumbs down to the social prejudices made me the black sheep of the family while my ‘obedient’ kid brother was the apple of my parent’s eye.
I never had any close friends because we never stayed anywhere for too long. As far as my brother is concerned, I never saw a friend in him; to me, Neilesh was my arch-rival. Unlike myself, an achiever, who made his own way, Neilesh was always an average bloke. Average in studies, average in cricket, average in gym, he was always average in the fields I excelled in. Yet he got the lion’s share of our parents’ love, just because he was obedient and I was a rebel. No, he never did anything mean to me, but his arrogance, insecurity and envy got better of me. I felt that he stole my parents from me and they let him. I longed for the attention of my parents.

With such given scenario, I was left with only one person whom I could resort to- my Thammi. She was my only friend. A devout Hindu, she taught me the ethics and spiritual topics. Being a retired journalist and mother of a single child (my father), she lived with us and traveled wherever my parents were posted to. Thammi never let me feel alone and literally it was she who raised me. She was both my Ma (Bengali word for mother) and Baba (Bengali word for father). So at the age of 11, it came to me as a blow when she suddenly passed away due to illness. I still remember her as the living incarnation of the Mother Goddess whom she worshiped all her life. A fair face with criss-cross of wrinkles, brimming with kindness and a set of eyes reflecting the serene composure; with silvery mane always tied in a low bun, clad in white saree and a stoop caused by old age- this is how Thammi is survived by me.

With my world snatched away from me, I did something horrible after which I couldn’t stay with my family.
So at the age of 13 I cleared the 10+2 level with good marks, ranked high in the PMT and left home to pursue an MBBS Degree from one of the reputed medical colleges in Mumbai. A little influence of my parents and most of my merit ensured my admission. No, I did not feel any hesitation because my parents anyways realised our differences sooner and they helped me get what I wanted to make up. And by the grace of The Mother Goddess, a little distance did work wonders in improving our relationship. The relationship with my kid brother improved for better.

The first phase of my new found life began in college. For the first time I actually made friends with whom I could hang out with, although they were all four years my senior.
But apart from friends, I made some enemies too, who wanted to bully me for being a 14 year old. My friends did protect me, but I knew they can’t be with me 24×7. So family name did rescue me, and taking my Baba’s advice, I moved from the hostel to an apartment in a secured society.
To be self sufficient to protect myself, or should I say ‘stare back into the eyes of the bullies’, I began working out and taking martial arts classes along with cricket coaching. I play other games like football (soccer), hockey and tennis as well. But at the end of the day, cricket is my comfort food.
With each passing year, I grew enough musculature to be tagged as a wrestler. I ate healthy and drinking and smoking was a big no for me. I am 85 Kilos with 30 inch waist.
I was happy. I had friends, I started loving my family, overall I was doing good.

At 16, I discovered that freshers found my physique and clean-shaved aristocratic face attractive. Some of them dropped hints by teasing me; but maybe I was a fool to not to understand their implications. The reality dawned upon me when one day a fresher pulled me into women’s washroom.
After that day, blowjobs and handjobs became a routine. I was enjoying the female attention I was getting; but somewhere I knew that all this was so wrong. I felt like being used. After all, I was 16 and those horny bitches were 18 and wanted to look cool by hanging out with a popular ‘senior’.
So I promised myself that I would refrain from any sexual activity until I find the love of my life. Mind that, this ‘any sexual activity’ included jerking my 8.5 inch dick and watching porn as well.
So it struck college sluts like a thunder when they learnt of my decision to turn chaste overnight. Rumours spread that I am gay and all that bullshit and died down when a senior eloped with Her engineer boyfriend. To be honest, rumours never bother me and I don’t give a damn to what others think of me. Because Neiladri Sinha makes his own way and strides on it.

The same year I discovered a hidden talent that was lurking beneath my athletic outer sheath- acting and directing. In plays I portrayed villains you would love to hate and directed plays that caught the attention of Youtubers, who wanted something new to replace the typical melodramatic soaps with larger than life female leads and Devilish vamps. Most of my plays were based on crime novels, horror stories, detective adventures and sci-fi from Bengali novels of 19th and 20th century.
So at the request of Youtubers and insistence if my friends and brother, I decided to make a show. But it was easier said than done.
I approached bursa escort a number of producers with the concept, but most of them rejected me, saying “Only house wives watch TV. They want melodrama, not suspense.”
After three months of rejection, I said “to hell with such producers” and decided to produce my own show. Luckily, one of the top tele channels “I TV” liked my concept and decided to sign me for a weekly suspense show, titled ‘Suspense Nights’.

With the help of my parents, I arranged for the capital needed for the first story ‘Night of death’. The story revolves around a young landlord of pre independence India, summoning his freedom fighter-lawyer friend from Calcutta to investigate the truth behind a vampire haunting his native village.
We had already roped in 18 year old Siddhant Baruah as the young landlord and 20 year old Sugandha Sharma as the landlord’s mysterious wife. Now we needed the young lawyer, who would be our lead. But we were unable to zero any teenage actor for the role. So our team decided to hold an audition; an audition that would change my life and take me to a roller coaster ride!

————————————————————-

Oh Mother Goddess! The audition was such a headache! It was uneventful and those imbeciles were literally laughing stock in the name of a thirty-something yesteryear lawyer. Our casting director Smita could sense from the throbbing of my temple that an impotent rage was boiling within me, ready to erupt. But being my friend and batch mate, she knew it very well that it was a symptom of the severe headache I was suffering from.

“You should go home and take rest.” She said.

I raised my head and glared back at her with my blood-shot eyes. If glares could kill, Smita would have been reduced to ashes in no time. But swallowing my anger, I replied in a tired tone “I don’t know what will happen. We cannot shoot until the lead is finalised. A lot of money has been invested.”

Smita smiled sadly and said “I know. But how will you shoot if you fall sick?”

“Fall sick? Neiladri Sinha never falls sick. We will shoot on the scheduled date. We will audition some more actors tomorrow. If that fails, we will approach a professional actor, no matter how much money he demands.”

Smita chuckled and was about to say something, when a spot boy came and said “Sir, there’s a boy who has come for auditions.”

I glanced at my wrist watch; it was 8:30 pm.

“Didn’t you tell him that auditions are over for today?” Smita asked.

The spot boy said “I told him madam. But the boy is adamant. He won’t move.

Suddenly Smita’s eyes lit up. “Let him in.”

The spot boy nodded and went out to bring that imbecile. I glared at Smita again; her smile faded.

“What?”

“How do we consider someone who isn’t punctual?” I asked.

“And what if he is our lead?”

I looked up and said “Somebody kill me!”

“Uh…..hello, sir.” said a boyish voice.

Smita and I turned to see a skinny 15 year old boy standing before us.
He wore tightest pair of blue jeans, a black tee with its half sleeves folded upwards and black & white sneakers.
About 5’7, he was lanky with a peach complexion. Unlike my straight black hair which was gelled towards the right of my head, his wavy hair was ruffled and appeared bit unkempt. His feline nose was small and a pair of thin pink lips were parted as he stared at me with his piercing light blue eyes. In short, he looked like a girl in men’s clothes. It appeared that he would be sent flying away if I ‘huffed and puffed” at him.

Feeling uncomfortable with his cat eyes boring into me, I asked “Whom do you think are you looking at kid, Shahrukh Khan?”

The boy got nervous and feigning a smile, said “Nothing sir. It’s just that I was expecting a grown up man to be the producer and director.”

I laughed and said “and we were expecting a fit guy for this role.”

Smita slapped my shoulder “Stop it. You are scaring him.”

I stuck out my tongue, contorted my face into an expression tiger make while taking the scent of other tigers from the air and hissed at her.
Then turning to the boy, I asked “So what’s your name?”

“Tanuj Rao.” he said.

I glanced at him and his face seemed familiar.

“I think I have seen you somewhere.” I remarked. Tanuj looked puzzled.

Smita smiled and whispered through gritted teeth “He was a contestant in a dance reality show ‘Common let’s dance’.”

Now I remembered. My aunt visited me five months ago with her identical twin daughters Rishona and Payel, both 12. They were using my laptop to sign into their Facebook profiles. As I passed by them, Payel said “he’s so cute” and Rishona giggled. I turned towards the screen and saw the girls browsing through the fan page of a 15 year old dancer boy. “How predictable” I thought and smiled.

Coming back to present, I said “I see. Tanuj, do you know what character are you auditioning for?”

Tanuj said meekly “A freedom fighter, sir.”

“Then what on earth is stopping you?” I said sternly and slammed my fist on the table. “Start”.

That was rude; Tanuj was taken aback. But recovering quickly, he began mouthing his dialogues.

“Yes, I am a lawyer, and I did break the laws, those that were imposed on us by the British Colonials. But you want to know whether I have broken a law, which is punishable in every country, be it a Colony, be it a Republic; don’t you?
Yes my dear, I did break such a law. I witnessed a murder and kept the police in dark.”

Now it was our turn to be taken aback. The body language, the expression, dialogue delivery, everything was perfect. Smita was first one to speak “Tanuj, are you really 15?”

Tanuj reverted to his usual self and said “Uh…..yes, madam. But I’ll be turning 16 in a few months.”

Smita smiled and said “Well, you perfectly portrayed the character and it’s a yes from my……”

I interrupted Smita midway and asked “So Tanuj, tell us why do you want to work with us? I mean, you’re a school boy. Can you assure us that you would devout your time to our show? Can you assure us that you won’t make us regret our decision?”

Smita sniggered “Neil! Don’t be such a….” I interrupted her and said “Miss Smita Mehta, we are not here to just select any random actor and cast him. We need to know whether he respects the art of acting.”

Smita mock-frowned and I turned towards Tanuj “Speak”.

————————————————————-

Tanuj Rao :-

After hearing few other actors cursing the short-tempered producer, I didn’t expect to stand a chance. I saw one of them sobbing while walking out. How could he be so mean, he was 16 after all, or so I heard. But nevertheless, I was scared. I needed this role so bad, for my Aai (Marathi word for mother).

I come from a lower middle-class Maharashtrian family settled in Nagpur. My Baba (Marathi word for father) bursa escort bayan is a state govt. employ, earning meager amount of salary. My Dada (Marathi word for elder brother) is 25 and jobless, a source of my parent’s frustration. To add to this, Dada is a drunkard and a gambler, and has criminal record, thanks to the bad company he keeps.

Last year my Aai got partially blind after a freak accident. So against Baba’s wishes and with Dada’s help, I participated in “Common let’s dance”. Although I impressed the judges with my b-boying moves, I couldn’t make it to the semi-finals. Why? Because I got less votes. Life can be unfair, ain’t it?
Whatever money I got from the show, half of it was spent to pay our debts and 1/4th by Dada in gambling. Only 1/4th remained for Aai’s treatment, and that wasn’t sufficient.

I was never a star student. I had to struggle to pass the exams and sports were not my cup of tea. My only passion has been dancing. But seems that street dance doesn’t earn you instant money in India. So while staying at my friend and a fellow contestant Sahil’s home in Mumbai, I got to know that some filthily rich medical student was auditioning actors not older than 20 years for his first show. I heard that the guy is India’s youngest medical student, having joined a medical college at the age of 14. What a brat! While middle-classed people like me struggle to meet our ends, this guy doesn’t seem to stop throwing the weight of his money around himself. What a brat!

I had literally begged the Spot Dada to let me in. But he was insisting me to come tomorrow. But what if they didn’t conduct any more auditions? I shared my problem with that stranger, and he seemed to sympathise. He went in and asked me to go in after returning.

As I was entering the audition hall, I felt paranoid. What if the rich brat rejects me? What is he insults me like he insulted others? What if he makes me cry?
As I was entering, I formed an image of the producer as a bespectacled fat guy.
But he was nothing I had imagined. Tall, dark and handsome!
Well built and bronze complexioned, he had almond-shaped black eyes under those full bow-shaped brows, that reflected his uncompromising personality. A clean-shaven, smart and confident face, that was cute with a long aristocratic nose, full lips and high cheek bones. He wore a black hat with bangs of his side parted undercut hair falling to the right of his head. He wore a blue full sleeved t-shirt with sleeves curled up, that outlined his chiseled torso. He wore a pare of black denims that covered his never ending long muscular legs. A chunky metallic wrist watch and bracelet of wooden beeds complemented those powerful paws at the end of his left and right arms. His throat was covered by a black and white scarf and he wore expensive pointed leather shoes. He was a guy who loved sports and spent a lot of time in sun. I was dumbstruck to see the Indian version of Adonis before me. I bet he had a nice cock as well, and imagined him kissing my thin lips tenderly while he pushed his cock up my ass.
It was while participating in Common let’s dance that I realised I was gay and found men attractive. I longed for my couple performances with Sahil and had a crush on him. But I couldn’t muster courage to come out to him and express my feelings, especially since he was straight and had a girlfriend.
But unlike Sahil, who is skinny like me, the producer was a healthy man who looked like God of Love in contemporary clothes. First look of him swept me off my feet.

“Whom do you think are you looking at kid, Shahrukh Khan?” He asked in his booming baritone.

I was snapped into reality. His reaction scared the hell out of me. What if he read my mind with those deep dark eyes?

“Nothing sir. It’s just that I was expecting a grown up man to be the producer and director.” Yeah, that was lame. But I couldn’t think of a better explanation when I was chickened out.

But the vicious that had surfaced on his beautiful face softened as he laughed heartily “and we were expecting a fit guy for this role.”
Gosh! He has a good sense of humor.

A 21 years old woman, who was perhaps his girlfriend, slapped his shoulder and said “Stop it. You are scaring him.”
Yeah, girlfriend. He’s rich, handsome, sexy, funny and a genius. I mean which girl would like to let go of a complete package of a boyfriend or future husband!
My heart sank at the thought of him being in a relationship.

He teased her and turned to me with a genuine smile “So what’s your name?”

“Tanuj Rao.” I said nervously.

He looked at me for a moment and said “I think I have seen you somewhere.”

I was surprised, at least I did exist for him.

His girlfriend told him about me and he asked me to mouth the dialogues that were given to us. I took a deep breath and imagining myself to be a Bengali freedom fighter, I delivered the dialogue.

Gosh, they were impressed. His girlfriend thought I was an older guy. I thought “shut the fuck up bitch”, but decided not to mouth my thoughts. It didn’t matter what she thought. To me, all that mattered what my new crush thought about me. I saw his face turn serious and he asked me why did I want to act.

His girlfriend said “Neil! Don’t be such a….”

“Neil”, I thought. So this was his name. It reverberated again and again in my mind.

But interrupting that bitch, Neil said in his commanding baritone “Miss Smita Mehta, we are not here to just select any random actor and cast him. We need to know whether he respects the art of acting.”

My God! How can he be so soulful and passionate? I couldn’t believe my ears. I think I am falling for him.

He turned to me and said “Speak”.

So far my mind was occupied with Neil. But his question reminded me the purpose I came here for.

I smiled sadly and said “Aai is sick. She needs treatment and we don’t have sufficient money.”

I saw his eyes soften and kindness replace passion.

I continued “Acting pays better than street dance. So I thought I can earn some much needed money by acting.”

Neil and Smita looked at each other and then back at me. Smita said “Tanuj, we have a bad news and a good news for you. Which one would you prefer to hear first?”

Bad news? Are they rejecting me? No, it can’t be! Oh God! Please help me.

Smita said sadly “Well, I am sorry to say but you’ll have to take a long leave from your school.”

What?

Neil said “The good news is, that you are selected as the lead of ‘Night of death’. Let us see public’s feedback after the first episode, and we might cast you for our Detective series Feluda as well.”

I was shocked. I didn’t know how to react. Not only I was selected as the lead of their first episode, they were also offering me a role in their detective series.

All I could say was “Thank you sir.”

Almost instantly, Neil’s aristocratic aura replaced the kindness in his eyes. Raising a brow, escort bursa he said “The name is Neiladri Sinha kid, not ‘sir’. Everyone calls me Neil, so will you, is that understood?”

I nodded.

“Tomorrow morning at my apartment, sharp at 8. We’ll discuss your payment.” He said.

I said “Yes sir.”

Neil frowned.

“I mean, yes Neil.”

————————————————————-

Neiladri Sinha Jr. :-

It took us two weeks to arrange the costumes. Under my supervision, authentic 19th century Bengali attire was ordered for our actors and the 19th century Calcutta was recreated in the Film City. We chose a spot for our outdoor shoots and script and dialogues were ready.
The first scene we were shooting was the marriage of young landlord and arrest of our main lead, the lawyer.

Being Assamese, Siddhant and Sugandha were familiar with the Bengali culture and molded there characters without any difficulty. Siddhant looked convincing in the crisp white cotton Dhoti, silk Kurta and a woolen shawl. However, he was struggling with the Topor (Bengali head gear for groom) and sandalwood paste markings on his forehead.
The very beautiful Sugandha looked grand in her red bridal silk Saree and Bengali wedding jewelry. But she found the Saree and gold jewelry to be too heavy.
If there was anyone who wasn’t complaining, it was Tanuj. Coming from a middle-class Maharashtrian family, he had no idea of Bengali culture. So the kid did a lot of homework, learnt Bengali language, Bengali mannerisms, Bengali accent etc to look a true blue-blood aristocratic Bengali of Victorian ages and to deliver Hindi dialogues that had a great number of Bengali words assimilated.
Our make-up artists did a wonderful job with Tanuj. They turned the cat-eyed peach-complexioned innocent Maharashtrian boy into a black-eyed copper complexioned cunning Bengali lawyer with thick mustache.
I smiled widely and clapped.

“Magnificent! You see, you can easily pass as a staunch Bengali with this make-up.”

Tanuj smiled like a child and said “Thanks Neil. Your feedback matters a lot.”
Good. The kid’s gaining confidence.

I smirked wickedly, tilted my head towards right and said “Fair enough! Get ready for your first scene.”

And the confident smile got clouded by the panic of a kid.

“Um……excuse me Neil.” said Tanuj and rushed towards washroom.
I can be such a bad ass.

————————————————————-

Tanuj Rao :-

It was the first day of shoot and we arrived early for the make-up, especially me, for darker shades of skin are aristocratic among Bengalis.

After our first meeting, I just couldn’t stop thinking about Neil. I could only imagine wrapping my delicate pink lips around that massive package that was always concealed under layers of expensive clothing and sucking on it until he came into the depths of my throat.

The next I met Neil was at his apartment, where he discussed the amount of money we actors would be paid.
Damn! He was smoking hot in those grey joggers and red tee, that showed off his muscular arms and legs. I had a difficult time with my 6 inch cock straining in my jeans. I had to jack-off right after returning home.

I was longing to get a glimpse of him after that day. I came out of my make-up room when Neil came to the location right from a Temple. He was clad in an ochre Kurta and regular blue jeans, with a long line of vermilion on his forehead and those mirthful eyes of his covered by black aviator sunglasses. But even in such simple attire, he looked sexy. We met and talked, and he did something that left my knees go weak.

“Fair enough! Get ready for your first scene.” He said.

Gosh! That slightly tilt of his head, bangs of his side parted undercut tresses falling towards right, the fragrance of his deo, that well-honed broad chest with powerful shoulders and that smirk that forms a dimple on his right cheek made me so horny, that eye wanted nothing more than walking up to him, raising my head and kiss his full lips.

My God! I can’t handle it anymore. I made an excuse, rushed into the washroom and locked to door behind me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Facing the mirror, as I opened my eyes, I looked at my own reflection. My skin was painted a darker shade like Neil. My eyes were covered by black lenses. It seemed that we are same soul in two bodies. I felt as if it was Neil staring back at me from the mirror.

I leaned forward, closed my eyes and kissed the cold glass of mirror, imagining it to be Neil’s luscious lips. I let out a soft moan as I imagined myself in the vice-like grip of Neil’s powerful arms, while he kissed me back and our tongues met. As I broke from my kiss, I saw my own reflection and imagined it to be Neil’s face, adorned by that cute dimpled smile. I could feel my boner straining in my shorts and pressing against the wash basin.
I lowered my Dhoti a little, unzipped my shorts and fished out my raging 6 inch uncut cock.

I closed my eyes once again and found myself once again in the audition hall, where I met Neil for the first time. Neil rose from his chair, walked up to me, swept me away in his strong arms, carried me to the couch and put me there. I unbuckled my belt and pulled-off my jeans. Neil had his pants down up to knees and had removed his hat and scarf.

He had his right hand wrapped around his big uncut cock and pressed its head against my butt-hole.
He leaned forward and whispered into my ears “Neiladri Sinha loves you, honey” and penetrated me with his cock-head. I let out a moan of pleasure, which was muffled by Neil’s deep and passionate kiss.
He banged my pussy-ass hard and fast like a jack hammer, kissing me all the while. Suddenly his head shot back and he yelled out, grabbing fistfuls of my perky chest “Oh baby! I am cumming!” and shot ropes of his hot sticky seed into my bowels. I orgasmed over my belly along with him and moaned “Oh Sweetpea! I love you so much! I can’t live without you!”

As I opened my eyes to soothe my eyes with the sight of Neil’s serene face, I found my own reflection looking back at me. I had my right hand wrapped around my now deflating cock and had shot cum into the wash basin.
Coming back to the harsh reality, I cleaned my cock, washed my hands, zipped my shorts and pulled up my Dhoti. I looked at my reflection once again, and a dam burst. I bowed down upon the wash basin as tears poured down my eyes.
I knew Neil can’t be mine. I knew he saw me just as an actor working in his show; nothing more than that. He was straight, and by the way Neil and Smita looked at each other, it was obvious that she was his girlfriend and they were in a relationship. It broke my heart and I cried.

“I am sorry Sweetpea, I am so sorry!” I said with tears choking my voice.

“I love you Sweetpea, I really love you. I can’t live without you.” I said in between sobs.

I cried until there was a knock on the door and a Spot boy asking me to come out.

Neil was my first love, and he loved Smita. I knew I was heart broken for the rest of my life.

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