Feels good to be back!
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Posted:Sep 21, 2009 6:21 am
Last Updated:Aug 29, 2015 11:24 am
4100 Views
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It really does feel good to be back, after a long long long time...I'm still hoping to make some hot connections through Affairlook...meanwhile, I have had a couple of encounters that have resulted (once) in a long chat with an older woman followed by some kinky games -- I played the role of a 'switch', spanked her first with a wooden ruler, licked her pussy from behind till she came on my face, and then got whipped! It pains a little, but I must say its fun!
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Sexy smell!
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Posted:Dec 18, 2008 10:00 am
Last Updated:Sep 21, 2009 6:14 am
3851 Views
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Ok, so let me return to my raunchy ways after that rather 'scholarly' blog entry of yesterday!
I have fantasized about smell. Don't you think human smells are really arousing...? I would like to smell dirty hair that has not been washed for a while...smell the ear lobes, lift them, smell the back of the ear after a hot, sweaty day...lick the dirty ear lobe, and bury my face in smelly hair that stinks of sweat after a hard day at work...smell sticky, sweaty armpits...lick the hairy armpits...tongue the dirty belly button...go down, smell dirty panties that have dried from sweat and piss...and pussy juice...pull the panties down, smell pussy, bury my face and nose in a hairy pussy, rub pussy lips with my nose...ask this dirty, sweaty woman to go down on all furs and smell her fat thighs and bum...go close enough but dont really touch...
And, when you see the first drops of pussy juice, smell that...then, lick her pussy, spank it, whip her bum...and make her come...
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Decent patriotism
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Posted:Dec 17, 2008 9:30 am
Last Updated:Dec 17, 2008 9:32 am
3377 Views
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Today, I got the opportunity to attend a lecture by Prof martha Nussbaum from the Chicago University. she has worked closely with Amartya Sen, and we are here celebrating Sen's 75th birthday...
She spoke of a 'good/decent patriotism' which basically centered on social justice, as against jingoism, which spreads hatred...the lecture was thought provoking! These kinds of reflections are very much needed in troubled times such as these...
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Ha ha, I'm back!
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Posted:Dec 16, 2008 9:05 am
Last Updated:Jan 5, 2009 9:38 am
3425 Views
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So, I'm back after a really long time -- 7 months! Nothing much has happened on Affairlook with me, but in this period, I discovered the tons of porn that was available for digging out on porn tube, my free pay site and other sites. So, I finally got to see some great lesbian stuff, along with bdsm and some kinky fetish...these have given me endless pleasure.
Not much action, really, but as they say, its all in the mind!
Meanwhile, work goes on, and I'm getting more and more involved with some really interesting stuff! My blog on blogspot is coming quite well, and I have found a way to upload all the research work that I do on education..
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Another discovery!
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Posted:May 26, 2008 6:49 am
Last Updated:Aug 29, 2015 11:22 am
4634 Views
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Just the other day, I was having a shower in a hotel after a long and hard day's work. The blast of warm water from the shower felt good and I stood underneath for a long time.
After a while, on instinct, I got down on my fours, with my ass taking the full blast of the tiny jets of water...hmmm...that felt good!
It felt as if my ass was both caressed and spanked! Pretty soon, I had a hard on, as I felt the water roll down the crack of my ass and my balls. I tilted my bum cheeks in such a way as to get the blast directly on my bum hole...wow! This was awesome!
Thus, with my posterior getting the H2O treatment, I pulled the skin around my cock back and forth, wetting it with spittle...after many minutes, I arrived...
How many of you have experienced this bliss...?
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The roots of our fantasies
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Posted:May 11, 2008 12:09 pm
Last Updated:Aug 29, 2015 11:22 am
3573 Views
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I wonder what the roots of our sexual fantasies are. Are they to be dismissed as quirky, unexplainable impulses? Or do they point out something that is deeper, and more significant? Can they provide us clues about our nature?
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Red hot notes from Sengadu
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Posted:May 2, 2008 1:30 am
Last Updated:May 2, 2008 1:32 am
3607 Views
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Some incidents leave experiences so deeply ingrained within our being that it seems as if they occurred yesterday. Sixteen years ago (in 1991), fresh from college with an engineering degree, I got my first job through a campus interview with a multinational company that manufactured granite products for export. Happily, I left for Sriperumbudur, a sleepy town near Chennai on the Bangalore-Chennai highway. By then, Sriperumbudur had become famous as the town where Rajiv Gandhi, India’s youngest Prime Minister, was assassinated a few months ago in May 1991. Otherwise, Sriperumbudur was known as the birthplace of Ramanuja, the proponent of a brand of philosophy known as ‘Vishisht Advaita’. It stood between Shankara’s ‘Advaita’ and Madhva’s Dvaita philosophy. Of course, this article is not meant to be an exposition of Ramanuja’s philosophy. It is, as you will discover, quite its anti-thesis.
I found a one room tenement and managed my meals in a nearby restaurant run by a family. From Sriperumbudur, one had to travel some 20 kilometres to reach the factory, where I worked as a production engineer. Bus services were erratic, so one had to make do with any form of transport that was available. Travelling by lorry and milk vans was considered normal. If you were lucky, you would get a bus that would take you right up the factory, which was located deep inside forest terrain. Since red soil was found in abundance, the locals called this area ‘Sengadu’ (meaning ‘red forest’ . This was where I had a red hot experience one morning.
As usual, I was waiting to board any vehicle that came my way that morning. A bus, numbered ‘T17’, stopped and picked us up. It was crowded and I had to struggle to find my way to the middle. I didn’t want to be stuck near the door ‒ there was too much pushing around anyway. The middle, even if it was stuffed, was stable.
Pretty soon, a plump sari clad woman boarded the bus at the next stop. I didn’t notice her presence till she positioned herself in front of me. Much as I tried to avoid touching her, I found myself being pushed from behind. There were too many people packed at all possible angles, and we were all touching each other whether we liked it or not. The stench of sweat filled the air.
Involuntarily, the plump woman ground her fat behind into my pelvis. Something stirred. I noticed that I could grind into her soft ass without really having to do it, as I was being pushed into her from behind. She didn’t seem to mind. She probably realised that she couldn’t do much about it. After a while, I started rubbing slowly. Through my cotton pants, I could feel the crack of her very soft ass. I went crazy standing behind her, resisting the urge to hold her from the back, her fat tits and her plump bum…
She once looked back and then came even closer, almost making it impossible for me to have any room. The only way was forward, so I continued to grind her ass. She pushed back every time there was contact. By then, my cock had assumed huge proportions. The foreskin must have been stretched back, and I was wet with pre cum. I wondered if I’d explode any moment. Just as I was slowly beginning to lose control, the factory stop came and I had to get down. She too got down at the same stop. We didn’t look at each other as we went our ways. I ached for release. I could have stood in the bushes and brought myself off. The factory gates would have then closed on me. They were strict about timings. So I ran in with the erection and got immediately into the business of manufacturing stone for the day. Since then, many fantasies have revolved around that experience. Let me share them another day!
Alchemy...
May 2008
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Then and Now...
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Posted:Apr 16, 2008 5:44 am
Last Updated:Oct 23, 2011 12:08 am
3849 Views
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In 1990, I wrote what i felt about sex:
"When I think of sex, I think of a broad range of touching, holding, caressing, and not mainly of sexual intercourse, as it helps me freely express my passions. For me, tactile (oral) stimulation is most important. Indeed, eroticism is nothing but one’s freedom of expression, both in thought and action..."
At this stage in my life, I would want to go it rough...whipping, spanking, bondage...the gentleness which I so sought then (and experienced as well) seems to be going out of the window...is it age? Or is it greater variety that I am seeking?
Alchemy
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Frozen Desire -- 4
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Posted:Apr 14, 2008 7:59 am
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2008 7:32 am
3605 Views
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IV
The letter exchange went on. Hot fantasies and photos were exchanged. Pretty soon, I got a number of porn magazines from the Hyderabadi, which she said she picked up from some magazine centres. How she managed that, I couldn’t quite figure. The Punjabi too sent me explicit photos, and we even discussed each one of them in subsequent letters.
As the days went by, the thoughts of meeting up with these two women began consuming me. The Hyderabadi sounded desperate too, and wrote in one of her letters that we should make a ‘plan’ to meet, a plan which she could use to convince her parents to let her go. In one of her letters, she wrote saying that I could pose as her friend and send her a fake invitation to my sister’s wedding. Of course, I had to properly print the invitation. Further, she also said that I would need to send her train tickets to Bangalore, which she could show as proof of her friend’s sincerity and interest. I scrounged around, and managed to get enough money to book two train tickets in an AC compartment, for two people. Just to be on the safe side, she was bringing her friend along, the friend in whom she confided every little thing about herself. With great difficulty, I managed to print out some copies of the fake invite. A friend of mine, who had a screen printing shop, obliged. Frantically, I speed posted the invitations and the tickets. We had it all worked out. I would pick them at the station, and we would all drive to a hill station resort and have fun there. She was kind enough to say that she would bear all the costs of travel, accommodation and so on. Since her childhood friend was also coming, I wondered if she too would take part in our lustful adventures. The very thought of a threesome excited me no end! More rubbing…
The day came for me to pick them up from the station. Eagerly, I waited for the train to roll in. It did, but the Hyderabadi and her friend were not around. I searched in anxiety, which slowly turned to irritation and anger. The bitches had given me the slip! Dejected, I returned home. A few days later, I received another letter from the Hyderabadi. She was apparently caught at home, and her parents got their hands on all my letters, the invite and the tickets. She was in a bad position at home, but she promised to return me the money. That was her last letter. The money never arrived. The few thousand that I had lost, would take me many weeks to recover.
I shifted to Delhi in December, far away from Bangalore and totally anonymous in another city ‒the city of ‘repressed desire’, as some called it! The Punjabi was still in touch. She too was showing interest in meeting up. Ludhiana was not far away by train. She was excited about my shifting to Delhi and even promised that she would bring her friend along. Not only could I watch both of them pleasuring each other, I could even take part! Wow!
One fine day, the Punjabi stopped writing. I wrote her three more letters, but there was no reply. Did she also meet with the same fate as the Hyderabadi? Or, was it all a great game? Even today, I wonder. Perhaps the best part was the letter exchange, where we spoke our hearts out. Perhaps the fantasy of meeting up and having fun is even better than the actual encounter. Would you agree?
Alchemy
April 2008
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Self pleasuring -- some observations of a wanderlust
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Posted:Apr 1, 2008 9:36 am
Last Updated:Dec 16, 2008 9:08 am
3957 Views
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Let us talk of innovations some more, while we areon this subject. In this case, let me focus on my progressive discoveries of my self pleasuring. Since that fateful day more than 25 years ago, when I discovered the magical sensations that my body could experience, I have experimented with various methods over the years. While fantasy plays a central role (the mind is the greatest sex organ there is!), technique is also important. I would like to state that there has been an evolution in these techniques. I use the word ‘evolution’ deliberately to make the point that each technique perhaps aimed at increasing the intensity and degree of sensation ‒ in that sense, each technique is probably ‘higher or more complex or more evolved’.
The first was just plain rubbing. One evening, as the family was having dinner some 27-28 years ago, I lay in my bed, having had an early dinner that evening. On an impulse, I turned over on to my stomach, and started rubbing my cock against the mattress, which I imagined to be a bitch in heat. I became the dog. Against the backdrop of the dinner table banter, I rubbed and rubbed like a in heat. I was fucking the life out of that bitch. Soon, I began to feel that primeval sensation which spread outward from my groin, a sensation only the human has known, a sensation for which we are ready to go to any length, a sensation which has driven me and scores of others to all kinds of places, a sensation which…blew me away, as my anus contracted in a frenzy, and my cock twitched and spasmed ‒ I had arrived. Ha…
Rubbing became the mainstay since then, and it still is, especially if you want to reach the peak quickly and be done with it. In a year or two, while discussing this discovery with a close friend of mine in school, I discovered that there was another route, which was less obvious. He said that one could pull back and push the skin ‒ when this was done fast enough, he said, the results would be the same. At first, I didn’t believe him, and I didn’t try this out for a few months. Finally, a chance presented itself in the unlikeliest of places ‒ the bathroom of the railway station in Jammu city, some 3000 km from home! My father and I were on a visit of Jammu and Kashmir during the summer of ’84. We had just arrived in Jammu by train, and had to wait there for a few hours to board the bus to Kashmir. While bathing, I suddenly remembered my friend and his method. Aroused and erect, I started pulling the skin up and down. It hurt initially, and so I had to lube it with spittle frequently. Then I went on and on…nothing happened, and I was beginning to get bored and irritated. Stupid method! I thought. Slowly, it started building up, but the initial sensations were quite different from those that I experienced through the plain rubbing method. A few minutes later, my legs were shaking uncontrollably, and my back was arching. I was still standing, moving the skin up and down furiously, sometimes with my right hand, and sometimes with the left. Then, I reached the acme of pleasure…the sensations lingered on for a while, and I was exhausted but felt pleasant. Thereafter, this method became the mainstay, till I discovered another one a few months later.
The third method was difficult (and painful too), but was the most rewarding. It blew the mind. That is when I realized that there was a connection between pain and sensual pleasure. One day, as I was indulging in my new found method, I stopped moving the skin up and down and instead used my finger tips (fore finger and thumb) to rub the engorged, wet and swollen tip. At first, my fingers went in circles around the tip, each circle moving upwards, and then moving down. I was afraid to touch the extreme tip at the urethra, for fear of pain. Then, I used both hands ‒ the finger tips played with the sides of the bulbous tip, and moved up and down. I didn’t move the skin even once, but continued to torment the swollen, pink tip. Then, in an act of courage I rubbed my finger across the urethra, clenching my teeth. It drove me crazy with desire, and it pained a bit. I contracted my bum hole hard, squeezed out some more juice and continued rubbing across the urethral opening more vigorously. The cock tip seemed to get even more enlarged, and I wondered if it would burst. As my right hand indulged in this delicious battle, I used my left hand to tease my balls, squeeze them, pull them…and squeeze my nipples. I imagined I had large breasts, and I was extracting the last drops of pleasure from them too. I slapped my imaginary breasts hard. When I exploded, I squirted hot cum at least three of four feet away! This was a grand discovery, and I found that I could go to some extremes. This became my favourite method for sometime, but I realised that one had to have more time for it. Also, one had to cross the threshold between pain and pleasure, to move into a ‘zone of pure sensation’.
While the above method remains the most intense, I discovered later that I could improvise by fucking the bum hole with my fingers. Typically, my left hand would enter the bum, and rub the prostrate gland (again, discovered ‘accidentally’!) while the right played with the tip as before. The prostrate, as well as nerve endings around the sphincter muscle, all added to the sensations. This was even more erotic, as I was violating myself.
These four ways form the core of my approaches for self pleasuring. Everything else is but a small variation, without any fundamental difference. Why don’t you write in, sharing what you have done?
1st April,
Delhi
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Pleasure and its Innovations
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Posted:Mar 31, 2008 10:05 am
Last Updated:Mar 31, 2008 10:08 am
3659 Views
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This write up on 'Pleasure and its Innovations' is a brief aside before I continue with the 'Frozen Desire' series, which I will probably conclude with the next piece.
The human mind is meant to innovate. Otherwise, it will stagnate and perish. Innovations make our lives dynamic, exciting and push the limits of our knowledge and experience. They make life worth living for, and constantly pose challenges to us to confront the unknown. Just look around and observe ‒ scientists innovate, so do businesses, teachers, sports persons, parents and you and me ‒ in some way or the other. Literally everyday, we see new products being created, new ideas being expressed, new boundaries being broken, old problems being solved even as new ones crop up.
The debate regarding whether all innovations are needed, are good, are useful, relevant, cost effective or even harmful, will never go away because in most cases, definitions have relative meaning. There will always be many positions and points of view depending on where one comes from. For instance, innovations in business may not always spell good news for the state of the environment. A faster, fuel guzzling or bigger car may look good and may massage the ego, but may turn out to be a disaster environmentally. Who needs it? Or, take the example of my laptop, which is a ‘dual core machine run on an AMD 64 Turion processor, blah, blah, blah…’ Frankly, I cannot tell any difference between this system and my Pentium III, which is supposed to be much slower. Why do I need this speed, when, like many of you, I’m actually using only 5% of its capacity? When I went around looking for a Pentium III laptop in the market, I found none.
This is where the debate become complex. How should innovations benefit society, and who should they benefit? These are, I suppose, key questions. This is where, I suppose, the equity angle comes in. Who drives innovations, and who benefits? As we go along in this discussion, we’ll see that there are huge moral issues as well.
I have had enough of this general discussion on innovations. Let us now move into another zone, the pleasure zone, which is what I wanted to write about anyway. In July 2004, I had the opportunity of experiencing Amsterdam. I flew all the way from Delhi for a two day meeting at The Hague, and landed up staying ten days instead! Thanks to some goons who robbed me ff my air ticket, passport, camera and most of my money on the train journey between Hague and Amsterdam, I was stuck for a week in the global sex capital, trying to figure out how to get back home. I explored most of Amsterdam by foot and by bicycle. For those who love to walk and cycle, Amsterdam is sheer pleasure. It is a small city and can be covered quickly.
For me, a natural place of interest was the notorious red light district. During my stay, I didn’t plunge into ‘action’ if you know what I mean, but got to see quite a bit. Talk of innovation, and there you had the sex shops that sold every conceivable toy that could sate your deepest, darkest fantasies. There were single and double dildoes of all shapes and sizes, and various kinds of vibrators. Then there were those inflatable dolls for desperate men who couldn’t get their regular quota of sex.
The ones that caught my attention were the range of products available for pain and pleasure. Whips of different textures and lengths, wrist cuffs, belts, scarves, penile and clitoral rings, gags, tit clamps and rings…there was quite a variety for those who wanted to indulge and stretch the limits. (On stretching the limits, I must write another piece some other time… A couple of years ago, I had seen these shops in London, but you could count them on your fingertips. In Amsterdam, there were just too many shops!
The sights boggled and excited the mind, that great innovator. Even as I went from one shop to the other, a myriad of images of titillation flashed before my awestruck eyes ‒ men and women in various positions, doing all kinds of things to each other, making all kinds of noises, and using all these toys…
Perhaps the most interesting experience was the sight of many women walking freely inside these shops for shopping in the pleasure zone, as if they were picking up some groceries at the neighbourhood departmental store. Talk of gender equity!
I was tempted to carry some of these toys home, but was not sure what would happen if I was caught by customs in my country. Were these allowed? I’m not sure what the scene is like now…
Like in our general discussion on innovations and their relevance for all, their utility and so on, we are bound to encounter in this case a set of persons who will ask questions of a moral kind ‒ they will argue that sex is sacred, and the human body should not be abused and stretched in this manner to milk the past drops of pleasure. A mind which conceives of these actions must surely be depraved! These people will invoke higher visions for sex, beyond pleasure and satiation of lust, and they will invoke spirituality. The act of sex serves a higher purpose, they will say. All of this is only at a physical, ‘flesh’ level…
On the other side you will find those for whom lust knows no boundaries, and for whom the boundaries of pleasure and pain must get continually stretched. Their minds freely imagine, innovate, and this results in products of the kind I saw. These people believe in living just once. They are the ones who constantly live on the edge, staring into an abyss of no return. Interestingly, the ones who advocate the ‘sex is sacred’ argument also live on the edge and stare at a beyond which they believe they need to reach. So, both are seekers, in their own different ways. Who knows? Their paths may even converge at some point!
My position includes a bit of both these perspectives…you see, I need the best of both worlds! I’d love to be whipped, spanked, and would love doing the same...What about you?
30th March 2008,
Delhi
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Frozen desire -- 3
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Posted:Mar 27, 2008 4:28 am
Last Updated:Mar 27, 2008 4:31 am
3625 Views
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III
From the second letter onwards, both the ladies became more and explicit in their written expression. Fantasies were explained in detail, experiences were recounted and more questions were asked. The Hyderabadi wrote a little more about her family and about her Bihari roots. She talked about her friends, in particular about her best (girl) friend in front of whom she had stripped once, to examine and compare their teenage breasts and pussies. Her friend’s pussy was not shaved, though. This friend of hers had a boyfriend with whom she had slept on many an occasion. The Hyderabadi wrote how her friend loved to have her pussy sucked and licked by her boyfriend. Hearing these stories made her go crazy with desire. She would then furiously masturbate and fervently wished to be violated by thick cock belonging to someone she knew well and who she could trust.
Often, the Hyderabadi would ask me what I would do to her, if we met. With an erect penis, sitting more than 500 kilometres away, I would patiently write and explain everything. For instance, I would go to great lengths to explain what my tongue would do to her pussy and bum hole, from all possible angles. Strangely, I only talked about using my tongue to violate her being and excite her no end. I remember her response, in which she wrote (with her left hand rubbing her inflamed and wet pussy even as she struggled to write!) how she masturbated, using different methods, including shoving a banana up herself. She wasn’t so much an ass person, as she herself admitted, though she was curious about exploring the posterior route as well.
The exchange of letters with the Punjabi was equally exciting. She explained how she was initiated into bisexuality. One sultry afternoon, she was lying all alone in her bedroom, shaving her cunt. As fate would have had it, the door was not bolted from inside. Her aunt, who was in her mid thirties, suddenly came into the bedroom. The Punjabi was too shocked to even move! Her aunt then offered to shave her cunt. She ended up doing much more, though. On that fateful afternoon, the two women made love, with the older woman initiating the younger one into the rites of lesbian sex. Since then, the Punjabi was an active seeker of women and girls. She also had a boyfriend who was very good at cunnilingus, but who had moved since to the US to pursue higher studies.
The Punjabi’s aunt was married, though. As their lesbian adventures unfolded, the aunt once invited her to a hot threesome with her husband, an invitation which the Punjabi declined. She was not sure what would happen, and she did not want her aunt’s relationship with her husband jeopardised for life. They then thought of an alternative ‒ the Punjabi girl agreed to watch her aunt making love to her husband from a distance. It so happened that their bedroom window was conveniently positioned to allow a watcher stand outside without being seen by anyone inside the room. The aunt had huge, firm breasts, which bobbed up and down as she rode her husband. She had strategically positioned herself so as to face the window so that her niece could watch her expressions of lust. Even as she rode her husband, she fingered her pussy with her right hand, flicking her clitoris from side to side. Often, she kneaded her breasts, squeezing her engorged nipples. Once, her husband pulled her nipples so much that her breasts looked conical! He then slapped both her breasts, making her moan very loudly. Once, she watched her niece out of the corner of her eye and invited her to join the fun. Again, the Punjabi declined.
Watching all this from outside the window, her young niece went dizzy with desire. The Punjabi wrote in stating that she has started madly fingering her pussy through her panties, while her left hand squeezed her tits. She could barely stand ‒ her legs shook, and her body arched beyond her control. When she did come, it was explosive.
Wow! How many times I tormented my cock, just reading this piece! I was consumed by the thought of meeting the Punjabi. By then, in our correspondence, we had exchanged photos. If the photo she had sent was truly hers, then she was very good looking. She even wrote in about her body measurements, and about the kind of bras and panties she preferred to wear! We exchanged more porn photos. The porn magazine which my friend had brought in from the US was fast depleting!
In my next letter to the Punjabi, I took the trouble of writing down a hot girl-girl scene which I had read in a book I bought in Connaught Place in Delhi. It went up to 8 pages, but had the desired result. She wrote back saying that she couldn’t do anything but wait for release after she read those 8 pages. That day, she and her friend had great sex shoving bananas to begin with, and ended creaming each other’s faces through a hot sixty-nine. Boy, if that was true, I wanted to see it!
(To be continued)
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Frozen Desire -- II
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Posted:Mar 21, 2008 10:34 pm
Last Updated:Mar 21, 2008 10:37 pm
3653 Views
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II
I placed an ad at the lowest rung. My five or six lines in the column ad were not explicit but were filled with barely concealed lust and longing. I do not now remember what exactly I wrote, but I’m sure it contained ‘Down to earth chap…’! I also responded to some ads. For sometime, nothing happened. Then, a few weeks later, there were two responses to my ad. One was from an early twenties girl in Hyderabad, and the other was from a woman in her late twenties in Ludhiana, Punjab. The Hyderabadi wrote to me a normal first letter. Only towards the end of this letter did she leave me a hint of things to come ‒ explaining her interests and hobbies, she wrote ‘I read novels and I also read Nancy Friday…’ That one sentence was enough to give her away. I instantly knew that she was interested in exploring her sexual side. Strange, isn’t it? If she had written ‘I read Harold Robbins, Charles Dickens or Robert Ludlum’ or some such thing, I would not have learnt much. But Nancy Friday of the ‘My Secret Garden’ fame told me so much!
When one reflects a little more, one realizes that it is the sharing of things carnal that touches the core of the being. It is this kind of sharing that strips you off all your masks. When you thus become bare, your transactions with another human become that much more genuine, deep and less complicated.
I rubbed myself to satisfaction several times even as I read that first letter.
The Punjabi was more to the point and sounded more exciting. ‘I am a bisexual,’ she boldly stated in her typed first letter. She explained a little about herself, and ended stating that I could become one of her close friends, ‘To explore a lifetime of sex and fun.’ Whoa! More rubbing and more excitement ensued throughout my aching being! Given that she was a bisexual, I imagined being treated to some hot lesbian sex that I could at least watch up close…The thought of two women making noisy, frenzied and delirious love to each other even as I watched, excited me no end like it does to this day.
I responded to the Hyderabadi first. Of course, I wrote my story, explaining why I was doing what I was doing, blah, blah, blah…I too wrote about my interest in erotic literature and rattled off the names of some books I had with me. From a porn magazine that my friend had got for me from the US, I cut out some glossy pictures and sent them across in that first letter. To ensure that our correspondence got spicier, I asked her what her fantasies were.
To the Punjabi, I wrote ‘Thanks…of course, we can be friends and have fun…’ I also expressed my interest and curiosity in her bisexuality, and asked her how it happened. I wrote to her about my earlier sexual encounters and asked her about her partners. She too was sent some carefully chosen girl-girl clippings from the US porn magazine.
I didn’t have to wait for long. Both the ladies responded promptly. In the interim, I found it difficult to work. My mind was always filled with thoughts on what our encounters would be like. The imagination ran riot. I assumed that we would meet, sooner or later. Was meeting up that easy, after all? I wondered, during moments of doubt.
(To be continued...)
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