Saturday, December 27, 2008

A World of Our Own

It had been a long, hard day. I always feel days are long and hard when the day begins before sunrise and ends after sunset. But as the day was coming to an end, I was barely able to conceal my excitement. Because I was so looking forward to this, well... , session.

As I walked into the cosy room, the aroma that wafted in made me go week in my knees. Somehow I managed to stagger into the couch... And I instinctively closed my eyes, the eyelids quivering in anticipation of the future.

And then it happened. The touch of those fingers!! It was surreal... Those fingers were magical, and their touch heavenly. The path traced by then on my skin was lit with ecstasy. Now going through my hair, now tracing my spinal cord. And of course, when they got to work on my shoulder blades, the rest of the world ceased to exist... And then something unexpected happened.

In fact I smelt it before I actually felt it... Another aroma, much more spicy in nature but still soothing to the nerves, made its way to my olfactory senses as I realised that a thin trickle of oil is falling on my skin.. This just about took me over the top... As the fingers played around, sometimes teasing and sometimes soothing, I found myself drifting into some other world which was so very calm and serene...

All this ended when I was rudely jolted back to the real world as I heard the voice saying, "Would the massage be all sir, or do you want a shave too?"

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Tribute to my EX

He was a fantastic guy! ('was' because I no longer claim to know him the way I used to and not
because he does not exist anymore. Hence, also the 'tribute.') Well, at least I thought he was fantastic until he spurted this orgasmic conscience and decided to prove me wrong in favour of highlighting for me that which was right. (I owe him one for this. Not one sexual favour. But one moment of intense truth. I retain the right to choose this moment.)

So right about the time when I had convinced myself that the male species could never get better than the worse I had, things began to change. Dramatically. While I scoured the cosmo for *tips* on keeping the man in my life happy, he was busy gaining an hands-on experience of the same. Experience, he debated, made things better. Experience, I argued, gave one sexually transmitted diseases. I was right. He was wrong.

But then, he argued later(when we were breaking up), I was 'always right' wasn't I? What can I say? He was a late learner. Perhaps even in bed.

Maybe I should consult his teachers of 'experience' and write a book about his learning habits. Would perhaps help some fellow man to learn his bit a bit quicker. In fact, I am quite certain he would be more than thrilled to encourage this venture of mine. He always had a deep sense of respect for the entire male species. And even deeper sense of adherence to their bits of 'suggestions'. And if I insisted I didnt like something. He stressed, "But you are supposed to like it! My friends say so!"

His friends also told me that they would be glad to hook up with me should I ever break up with
him. Of course they were joking. I lost all their phone numbers. He has a memory for numbers. So still remembers the numbers of some female friends of mine, but has forgotten mine. A small
slip of memory is permitted every now and then. Now for all the nice things he has done for me
(like made me see that every man possibly does think from between his legs) I should possibly do something nice for him too. So I decided that I ought to help his current girlfriend (I am sure he has one, though he claimed during the break up that he would love me for the rest of his life, its his libido you see, its not really his fault) well, anyway, so I decided that I ought to leave his
current girlfriend with some useful tips.

1. He gets embarrassed to tell you that his room which you probably love, is all done up by me. So dont ask him about it. He hates lying. But he would lie to you. Not because he does not have a pine. But because he does not want to hurt you. Is there a difference between the two? I don't want to steal the joy of figuring that out from you!

2. That blue shirt which makes him look positively hot? Oh well its got a little story to it. You see we went for a drive in the rain and got naughty ( you can ask him for the details, it really turns him on talking about it). He didnt but that shirt. He really does not like to spend on himself. Neither did I gift him that one. Nor did his mother or sister or some far off cousin. Some Indian sounding canadian gifted it to him after he gave her a time of his life. He does not like talking about it. (He hates to admit that she gave him much a better time than you ever will and he wont be able to explain a turn off in the middle of an animalistic passion. But memories can do that, you know) But though that shirt is a little faded and perhaps torn by now. Please dont throw it. Its sentimental.

3. Dont ask about exes. Not just me. But any of the others. He is a bad story teller. And he would
not be able to tell the truth. And he would hate to torture you with half lies. So you will fight. Best let it be.

4. He loves committments and marriages. He just does not know how to handle them. So I suggest that though I gave him the better part of half a decade to come to terms with it, you reserve another half a decade to get him to understand this (I told you he was a slow learner). And then be prepared to understand that he might not have learnt much after all.

After all has been said and done. I dont want to say something bad about him. And because there really isnt much to say besides that I will have to abruptly terminate this tribute here. But who knows as memory returns I might just find time to contribute some more!


Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Dawn and Dreams

She loved happy endings. She hated it when the ending just invited more speculation. If it invited more speculation, then it could hardly be the end, or could it? She patted the book in appreciation and snuggled into the welcoming warmth of her blue blanket. She ought to sleep now. But she was wide awake.

She watched the dark shadows of the night make way for the whispers of a new dawn. Her mind was rampant with vivid images painted by the subtle words of the book she had just finished reading. She could feel the warmth of the embrace as the protagonist finally hugged the woman he loved.

He turned in the bed beside her. She smiled at him. Not that he would notice how pretty her smile looked in the faint gold of an early morn. But she smiled nevertheless. He was the protagonist of the novel which forever sprinkled words on the pages in her head. He was not perfect. He was real.

She moved closer to him and plated one cold hand on his still warm cheek. He frowned at the mild disturbance and opened his eyes to tiny sleepy slits. She smiled into his eyes. He captured her hand on his cheek and then turned to plant a kiss on the inside of her palm.

"You are so cold," he said and stretched his arms towards her. She willingly snuggled in the warmth he was offering. He hugged her close to him. She could feel his heart beat rhythmically in his chest. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes once again. His hand lazily stroked her cold forearms in a futile attempt to warm them.

She smiled into his chest.

Somewhere the first morning bird fluttered her feathers and began to chirp gaily with the warm rays. The world was slowly waking up. His soft snores ruffled her hair. It would still be time before the world fully woke up. Till then she could spend time like this captured in this dream.