Yantra Protocol
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
36: Toast, Chai and Revolution
Mythology Sex Story: 36: Toast, Chai and Revolution - Bharath moves from Chennai to Calcutta to join Heritage City - one of India’s top football clubs - with dreams of becoming a professional footballer. But after rescuing a mysterious man from a robbery, he finds himself drawn into a hidden world of vivid dreams, powerful women, and ancient forces beyond his understanding. As his journey on the pitch grows more intense, so does the pull of something deeper - a path shaped by desire, danger, and a power that is only just beginning to reveal it
Caution: This Mythology Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Mind Control Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Sports Alternate History Paranormal Magic Sharing Group Sex Harem Polygamy/Polyamory Indian Male Indian Female Anal Sex Exhibitionism First Oral Sex Safe Sex Squirting Tit-Fucking Indian Erotica
10 September 2000
The Apartment, Ballygunge, Calcutta
The first light crept through the curtains like a slow breath. Calcutta was still half-asleep - a tram bell somewhere in the distance, a street sweeper’s soft scrape against wet stone, the low coo of pigeons on the balcony rail. The air carried that mix of coal dust, jasmine, and rain that only this city could manage.
Inside the apartment, the air was thick with breath and skin. A quiet kind of heaven. Bharath woke to it, as he always did - a few minutes before dawn, his body trained by years of discipline and restlessness. But this morning, he didn’t move right away. He was pinned beneath his women again, and he couldn’t think of a better way to live or die.
Kim was curled against his left side, her thigh slung over his hip, her face tucked into the hollow of his chest as if she were listening for his heartbeat. Her breathing was steady, soft. One hand rested on his waist, fingers curled as if holding on to something she didn’t want to lose.
Anya had claimed the right side, one arm flung across his ribs, her leg sprawled over his stomach, her hair scattered across his throat like a silken noose. Her lips brushed the base of his neck - she must have fallen asleep mid-kiss. She still smelled faintly of sandalwood and rose oil.
And then there was Celina.
Of course she was on top of him in her preferred position. Although the girls rotated to sleep on top of him impaled as they got to be as close to their man as possible in the night and in the morning, Celina was sleeping full contact, no distance, as if sleep itself required her to be fused to him. Her arms circled his neck, her cheek pressed under his jaw. One thigh hooked over both of his hips, their bodies still joined, their rhythm from the night before settled into a slow, shared heartbeat.
Outside, a tram bell clanged somewhere. The ceiling fan hummed overhead. Calcutta carried on with its dawn. Bharath closed his eyes again, reveling in the feeling of gratitude. For this city that never stopped humming, for these women who had somehow decided he was worth holding.
For a moment, everything - the chaos, the missions, the ghosts of the past week - dissolved into a single truth: he was home. Last night had been a night unlike any other.
He remembered Kim guiding him gently through the darkness, whispering that he needed to worship - not just her, but them all. She had offered her breasts to his mouth like blessings, first one nipple, then the other, then both - whispering encouragement as he suckled slowly, adoringly. He remembered Celina, sliding down onto him with that steady, sacred rhythm, her hips moving like she was offering herself to a temple flame. Celina was insatiable last night. Even Anya and Kim gave up trying to compete with her. It was heaven! And Anya, always Anya - his first goddess, kissing her way up his throat, grinding against him with a feral devotion, moaning softly with each shuddering wave of heat.
They had nursed him, worshipped him, surrounded him - and in return, he had worshipped every inch of them. A circular ritual. An ecosystem of desire and belonging.
He should have felt like a king. Yet, the stillness was broken by the faintest hitch in breath.
He blinked and found that Celina’s body was shaking - barely, but unmistakably. Her head was still buried in his neck. He reached up to brush her hair gently aside and felt it: a soft, wet trail. A tear. Then another.
“Hey...” he whispered, arms closing around her instantly. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. Her body shuddered once as he felt her sobbing quietly. He shifted carefully, guiding them both onto their sides, cradling her against him, wrapping himself around her, ensuring that she would feel safe in his embrace.
“Talk to me, chellam. What happened?”
Celina pressed her face into his chest. “I just ... I didn’t think it would feel this real. This amazing life with you. In just a few days I have had the most amazing days and nights of my life. I have never been so happy - and yet I feel scared. What if all of this is just some beautiful dream that I will wake up from soon. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. You are my world now. My sisters-in-love and Priya and Amma and Appa and Devi ... what will I do if I lose any of you?”
He stilled.
“The dream,” she whispered. “Last night what we did ... It wasn’t a dream. I felt it, jaanu. I felt the field, Bharath. I felt your soul. I was inside it. And I...” - her voice cracked - “I finally stopped fighting. I gave in. I didn’t hold anything back this time.”
“And now?” he murmured.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Scared that I might never be whole again. After all, what am I without you?”
He cupped her cheek gently and kissed her forehead. “You’re more than enough.”
She gave a short, trembling laugh. “Then why does it feel like it isn’t just us anymore? Like there’s something else waiting?”
He kissed the corner of her damp eye, his thumb tracing the line of the next tear before it could fall. “Hey,” he said softly, “look at me.”
Celina lifted her face from his chest. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, caught somewhere between fear and wonder.
“This isn’t a dream,” he told her. “And if it is, then it’s ours. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Promise?”
He smiled, small and steady. “Forever. You, Kim, Anya, Priya - all of you. We’re bound for life, Celina. Whatever happens next, this part stays.”
She breathed in sharply, like she was trying to memorize the air itself. “You sound so sure.”
“I am sure,” he said. “Because I’ve already lived without you. And I’m never doing that again.”
Her hand found his, fingers curling around his knuckles like she was trying to anchor herself. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple,” he murmured, kissing her hairline. “We love. We hold on. We build.”
She laughed quietly at that, the sound still shaky but gentler now. Her body relaxed against his, the trembling easing out of her shoulders. Within minutes her breaths slowed, growing long and even again.
Bharath stayed still, his palm moving in slow circles on her back until her weight softened completely. Her head slipped back into the crook of his arm, her face peaceful once more as she slowly went back to sleep - secure in his arms listening to his heart beat with love for her.
He watched her for a while, his eyes moving from her to Kim, then to Anya - all of them tangled around him. He could hear the faint rhythm of Calcutta waking beyond the curtains: the low rumble of a tram, the sputter of a tea seller’s stove, a street dog shaking the night off its fur.
After a while, he eased his arm free, careful not to disturb the nest of limbs. Celina stirred once when he slipped out her but didn’t wake. Anya and Kim immediately wrapped her up in their embrace as the three of them slept bundled together like a human burrito. He tucked the sheet higher around them, pressed a final kiss to their heads, and slipped out of bed.
The tiles were cool under his feet as he padded into the kitchen. Dawn had just cracked open - the city half-lit, the air thick with the scent of early rain and fried gram from some distant stall.
He washed his face, ran a hand through his hair, and started the kettle. The rhythm of his morning always steadied him: the stretching and exercises followed by a cold shower. He wished he had his goddesses with him, but then that would have led to more and he wouldn’t have wanted to go to work after that. He headed out and switched on the stove as the kitchen came alive to the scrape of the butter knife, the soft thud of bread meeting pan. Today he decided to make Celina’s favorite - chili cheese toast, the version she loved with chopped onions and just enough green chili to wake the dead.
The smell filled the small apartment, sharp and comforting. He poured himself a tumbler of water, leaned against the counter, and let the first real sunlight spill through the window.
On the dining table sat the shared notepad - the one with doodles from Kim, to-do lists from Priya, half-written recipes from Anya. He tore four pages from it and sat down with a pen.
He wrote quickly, like a man keeping a promise to himself.
To Kim:{br}
For the woman who keeps us from floating away. Your calm is my gravity. Don’t forget to eat before noon this time.
To Anya:{br}
The world isn’t ready for you, but I am. Call me before every event - I don’t care if it’s for lipstick advice and I will be there.
To Celina:
You wanted proof that this isn’t a dream. You’re reading it. The chili cheese toast is real too.
To Priya:{br}
General, the troops are still asleep. Kitchen secured. Toast deployed. Expect emotional casualties by 9 a.m.
He folded each note, weighed them down with the girls’ mugs, and smiled at the sight - the quiet battlefield of love he’d built in this apartment.
By the time he grabbed his towel and gym bag, the first real sunlight had stretched across the balcony. Calcutta was awake now - trams clanging, crows shouting, the air thick with a hundred kinds of life.
He looked back once at the door to their room. Inside, three goddesses slept in a tangle of warmth and dreams. He felt lucky.
And as he stepped out into the soft morning heat, the city felt lucky too - as if it had decided to hold its breath for a man who woke early to make breakfast for the people he loved.
The kitchen smelled like butter, green chilies, and mischief.
Four sleepy women sat around the table, wrapped in borrowed shirts and blankets, each holding a slice of Bharath’s chili-cheese toast like it was holy prasad. Outside, the city had shaken off its dawn mist; a tram bell clanged somewhere near Lake Market, and the street hawkers were already arguing about fish prices.
Inside, though, time was softer - a bubble of warmth, crumbs, and half-awake laughter.
Celina stared at the note beside her plate for what must’ve been the tenth time, her eyes still shining.
She smiled into her toast. “He actually made this. My favorite. I told him I was scared this morning, and now- look.”
Kim leaned over and bumped her shoulder gently. “See? Not a dream, shona. Just your madman being his usual overachieving self.”
Anya snorted from the couch, hair sticking out like a halo gone rogue. “Of course it’s real. Only Bharath would wake up at five, save the world in his head, then make breakfast like a sainted hotel chef.”
Priya took another bite, making a point of chewing dramatically. “Mm. Not bad. Little more chili next time, but edible. Tell him I said nothing complimentary.”
Kim laughed. “You love it, admit it.”
“Please,” Priya said, rolling her eyes. “The day I admit Bharath can cook better than me is the day I take sanyas and join ISKCON.”
Anya grinned. “I’ll buy you the beads you can make into a necklace. You’ll look amazing in them with your hermit dress.”
That earned her a glare. “One more smart line and I’ll make you scrub this kitchen with your designer nails.”
Anya raised her hands in surrender, cheeks pink, while Kim and Celina burst into giggles.
When the laughter settled, Celina’s voice came softer. “I meant what I said earlier. I was really scared, Priya. I thought maybe I’d wake up and ... this would all vanish.”
Kim reached across the table, taking her hand. “Hey, don’t think like that. You’re here. We’re here. This isn’t going anywhere.”
Anya nodded, suddenly gentle. “You’ve got us for life, babe. It’s messy and crowded and loud, but it’s forever.”
Priya took a sip of coffee, pretending to study her note and muttered, “Apparently I’m drafted too.”
Celina smiled through her tears. “You are, you know. You’re part of this.”
“Ha, ha,” Priya replied dryly. “Yes yes, the sister-wife with a gun. Keep your hormones; I’ll keep the spreadsheets and the crisis hotline.”
Kim giggled. “We wouldn’t survive without you, didi.”
“Exactly,” Anya added with a mischievous smirk. “Every harem needs a commander...”
“Finish that line,” Priya interrupted, “and I’ll make you run ten laps around the building shouting ’Joy Ma Kali!’ in your nightshirt.”
Anya’s mouth snapped shut. Kim choked on her coffee. Celina laughed so hard she nearly dropped her toast.
“Besh, that’s better,” Priya said with satisfaction, reaching for another slice. “Now eat before it gets cold. And no more cosmic nonsense before caffeine, please. My brain can’t handle tantric geometry at breakfast.”
Kim arched an eyebrow. “But you were the one asking about the dream field earlier.”
“That was before I tasted this toast,” Priya shot back. “Now I believe in carbs, not karma.”
Celina leaned back, smiling again. “He really does make everything better, doesn’t he?”
“Hmm,” Kim hummed. “That, and the fact that you finally slept after crying into his chest all morning.”
Celina blushed. “Shut up.”
“Love makes us all ridiculous, darling,” Priya said lightly. “Some of us just hide it better.”
Anya retorted with a wink at Priya, “Someone seems to believe a lot in love since they’ve met a certain someone...”
“Shut up, pagli!”
But it was too late. Anya finally managed to pierce Priya’s armor as she blushed and became speechless as Celina and Kim nudged her mercilessly.
For a moment, they were quiet as reveled in the feeling of love they felt for their men - just four women,, Calcutta breathing around them.
Anya broke it first. “You know what? He’d love seeing this.”
“What, us eating his toast?” Priya asked.
“No,” Anya said with a grin, stretching like a cat. “Us together. Talking. Laughing. Being his world.”
Priya rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “You’ve become a poet,” she muttered. “Fine. Be his world. But remember, some of us still have to file reports and feed the informants.”
Kim raised her mug in salute. “And some of us will make sure the world he’s saving actually survives breakfast.”
They clinked mugs.
Kim topped up everyone’s mugs with steaming chai while Celina buttered the last slice of toast. Priya was still pretending to critique the flavor, though she’d already eaten two pieces and was eyeing a third.
“So,” Priya said, mouth half full, “now that breakfast diplomacy is over, what’s today’s topic of divine chaos?”
Kim exchanged a look with Celina. “We were actually talking about something before you joined.”
Priya groaned. “Oh no. Not another yantra debate. My head still hurts from last week’s lecture on sacred geometry and orgasms.”
Anya, curled up on the couch, grinned. “That’s because you kept asking questions.”
“Yes,” Priya shot back, “because I like to know why my brother keeps ending up in cosmic orgies that somehow heal life threatening wounds.”
That broke the room - Celina nearly spat out her chai, Kim was red from laughing, and Anya hid her face behind a cushion.
“Fine,” Priya said, smirking. “Go on, enlighten me again. What mystical crisis are we solving this time?”
Kim pushed her hair behind her ear, her voice calm but thoughtful. “We were saying that maybe ... the healing only worked this time because all three of us were connected. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually.”
Priya blinked. “So basically - you’re saying the threesome had good teamwork?”
Anya groaned. “Didi, please!”
“What?” Priya said innocently. “I’m summarizing for efficiency.”
Celina sighed, trying not to smile. “It’s not just about sex, Priya. It’s about energy. The dreamspace isn’t just imagination. It’s a real field. It responds to us - to what we feel, what we give. And this time, when we entered it together, it changed things.”
Kim nodded. “The circuit lit up. Completely. We think ... the yantra itself might be evolving.”
Priya frowned. “Evolving into what, exactly? A football team?”
Anya leaned forward. “Maybe into something bigger. Something that needs more energy ... more people.”
Priya froze mid-bite. “Wait. Hold on. Are you three actually suggesting that Bharath needs more women?”
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of a tram bell outside.
Kim glanced at Celina. Celina looked down at her mug. Anya fiddled with her earring.
Priya set her toast down with a deliberate clink. “Unbelievable. You three have melted the man into butter, and now you want to bake him into a seven-layer cake.”
Celina started laughing. “It’s not like that!”
“Of course it’s like that!” Priya said, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Do you even know how he’d react if he heard this? He’d have an existential crisis before you finished the sentence. ‘No, Priya, this is wrong. I already love too much. My heart is full. My wallet is empty.’”
Kim giggled. “He would absolutely say that.”
Anya leaned back, smiling wistfully. “Maybe. But the truth is, it’s not about wanting more women. It’s about balance. The dream felt unfinished. We think the yantra’s calling might include others - not replacements, just ... additions.”
Priya squinted. “You mean like bonus levels in a video game?”
“Didi,” Kim said patiently, “it’s not about quantity. It’s resonance. The energy felt incomplete. Like there were missing notes in the chord.”
Priya groaned, rubbing her temples. “And what if this chord doesn’t want to be expanded, hmm? What if your overachieving symphony conductor of a boyfriend decides he’s perfectly fine with a trio?”
Celina tilted her head. “Then we respect that. But if the calling is bigger than him - than us - we have to be open to it.”
Priya’s eyebrows shot up. “Open to it? Sweetheart, he’d die before letting any of you feel replaced. You don’t understand - the man can’t even look at another woman for too long without apologizing to the three of you in advance.”
Anya burst out laughing. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”