French FCUK?

Carrie Bradshaw only knows good sex, but I know where and how you can get good sex in Paris and many other cities. French have stamped their identity on fries, wine, cheese, coffee, chocolate, and kiss but how about FCUK and potato between the wedges? Call it a rendezvous or rencontres, it is important you tour the alleys of any city and taste the local cuisine to make the experience complete.

I walked around Marais, the gayborhood in Paris. From gay bars, restaurants, adult stores to bath houses, Marais has it all. What really caught my attention was the Indian themed paintings on the double doors of “Sun City” on Blvd Sabastopool. Sun City has a bar, gym, pool, sauna, turkish bath, labyrinth and odes of men. If you have still not figured it out it is more than an orgy park, it is an orgy central. So should it be named Fun City?

The last time I walked into a sauna was in Boston, US in the year 2000. The place was dim, steamy and the bears scared the shit out of me and the sadly trip ended in a few minute. 10 years later here I am in Paris venturing into an orgy park after 10 PM. Along with me butterflies too sneaked into Sun City. The hallway was dark, damp, cold and Indian music buried the humming noise of the motors pumping the water and air-conditioning the place. The huge Indian sculptures of Gods and Goddesses made me feel at home and chased my butterflies.

I continued to walk as though I knew the place by the back of my hand, but in reality the only familiar one was the sound of sitar over the PA system. Like animals hiding behind the bush in the jungle, half a dozen men gazed at me without a speck of emotion on their face. Will their tongue intimidate, or entangle and entertain? It was Adrenalin vs Testosterone or Marina vs. Marais?

It was a weekday night and still the place had a crowd of more than 2 dozens. I locked my belongings and walked around the facility. Alain smiled at me as I ascended the stairs. A huge gym with a dozen treadmills and weight training machines filled with hunks and their chiseled chunks welcomed me. My wait had ended and my wish came true. All the men were bare-chested, some were running on the treadmill in their jockey and a few had a towel that precariously hung around their waist. I tightened my muscles and checked myself in the mirror, but I was in no comparison to the French men. French loafers and their hanging loaf made my heart pump more blood below my waist.

Some took the winding stairs that dumped them into swimming pool and Jacuzzi area. I followed them and watched them take a plunge into the swimming pool, while I settled for the Jacuzzi. The indoor pool was surrounded with resting benches occupied by big daddies. They looked like crocodiles basking in the sun.

Alain was the only other person with along with me in the Jacuzzi. We were naked and at opposite ends of the tub. The visibility was poor because of the distance and the high velocity water jet stream. Slowly Alain’s toe nudged mine, it is a move or a mistake? He didn’t apologize, but rather waited to gauge my reaction. I was not sure if the water pushed him my way. Since this was a gay hang out, I had no doubts about his sexuality, I wanted to give him another chance before I make the next move.

Alain finally came closer and without any weapons he captured the one-eyed water snake between my legs. There was no hissing or pissing, no struggle to escape or surrender, without any fit and frown my boy saluted the French man. As mark of respect, I ran my hands on his hairy chest and used my index finger and thumb to feel his nipples. Does Alphs run in France? Then I descended down his thighs. Not sure what message my fingers conveyed, he moved across swiftly and arrested my lower lip with his teeth.

Atlast the French kiss that I was waiting for was showered and showcased. His tongue was in my mouth, while my head trying to capture, process, and store the movements of his tongue. He massaged my gums and sculpted my teeth with his tongue and at times clenched my lips with his teeth as a mark of friendship. The acrobatics, dynamics, and stamina exhibited by the 2.5 inch muscle astonished me. Now I knew what it means when they refer to a “tongue twister” and “tongue tied”. I am finally FFF certified – French kissed by French in France.

I didn’t realize this trip of mine was going to set new records and test a few laws. We spent the next 45 minutes just repeating and rehearsing the act. This very kiss made my 20 year long sex life nothing. As the passion and hormones ascended I went down like a scuba driver looking to catch a glimpse of the underwater life. It was elementary and orgasmic. Every minute I came up to flush my lungs and stock up a fresh supply of oxygen.

Does water add to friction or does it act as a lubricant? I tested the Newton and Archimedes laws and validated them underwater. Why did I not run such experiments in the past? For the first time I had a complete erection underwater that lasted longer and underwater wanking was fun and frictionless.

Alain and I exchanged some basic personal information and our conversations were interrupted every now and then a few people came to the Jacuzzi. While some decided to gives us the privacy, some wanted to be a part of the fun. More the merrier!

Have you ever been in a situation where you had to court favors to make up for your country’s incompetency? I felt like an Indian Ambassador to France.I was making amends for all the bad publicity India had earned before the Common Wealth Games. My duty was to please and pleasure them. The French are indeed masters, specialists and experts when it comes to kissing, but what about FCUK?

Labyrinth and Sauna stories will continue….

Trial or Trail

Urges and splurges are two important characteristics traits that most gay male exhibit. Doesn’t matter however long or short they tend to last, yet the ephemeral euphoria make this behavior predictable and repeatable across the spectrum. Remember it is the same urge and splurge that drives popular shoplifters like Paris Hilton on a stealing binge, but I am consciously keeping them out of this discussion.

Now, coming back to the subject – aren’t trial rooms the best place to try out things before you buy them and bring them home? We all want to make sure the “size fits”, fabric flows well, color enhances our value, the cut accentuates our strengths and underplays flab and finally the fitment make us look slim, trendy and cool? Agreed?

I shook hands with him in party couple of months back and that is what he narrated when I drew a blank face and turned around to check if he was smiling at someone. I was not drunk, but still I had no memory of meeting him in the party. May be my memory was dark and more crowded than the club to register his handshake, smile and well sculpted physique.

Be it from the mall or from the party hall, I rarely bring home things in a whiff or huff. Express Mall had barely opened its doors and there I was with my colleagues on a weekday afternoon “checking out” clothing stores for fabrics, deals and discounts. Who doesn’t want to look stylish, fashionable, colorful and attractive, importantly at discounted price?

Those solid arms loosened the firmly held a glass, and reached out for another introduction, hug and handshake. His jaw bones beautifully framed his face; naughty smile lighted up his face and accentuated his sharp features, and a perfect washboard body protecting his heart and highlighting more. His shirt and trouser was definitely hiding more than secrets than Khujraho. He was probably the best dressed man in that stag party. He was leaning against the railing that went around the pool and flashed a smile of familiarity, while my face drew a blank, like my savings account. This was the second time he reminded me of our earlier meeting, I put my arms around him and profusely and sincerely apologized. I didn’t want to grow this unfamiliar, unfriendly and stranger feeling; I extended an arm of friendship.

We all want to touch, feel and drape the fabric before we buy. For some the process of touching and feeling is more appealing than the process of buying and wearing. It is not just the store and clothes that comes in all shapes and sizes, it is us humans too!

Never judge book by its cover or cloth by its fabric. Remember only when you read and wear you discover the comfort. Same is true for friends.

At the mall a few shirts screamed “touch me, try me and take me” but still I resisted their loud cry. There was a time when I used shopped impulsively, but over the years, a little wisdom had dawned. Here is a little secret that I’m sharing with you, Im still awaiting the arrival of my wisdom teeth. Do you have yours in place?

During that stag party our eyes were constantly sifting and searching through the crowd and zeroing in on each other like store cameras. Who is touching him, who is he talking to, who is around him? He confirmed the same feeling when we met for coffee the next time. This is the same feeling you go through when you like something in a store. You always look at it from a distance, go near to touch and feel and give a final glance from a distance before you walk out of the store. We all “check out” and make mental notes though some of us don’t pursue further. But I was not sure what he was thinking and if he would pursue.

My wisdom is simple - set your eyes, watch them often and nab them at an opportune moment when they go on sale. That game of wait, watch and win brings so much pleasure than just the plain vanilla “go and buy”.

Sometimes you take the store number or leave your number behind and ask them to inform you when things go on “sale”. Was he thinking like me? Was he waiting for me to go on discount sale? I had no clue, but I was curious to find out. We exchanged numbers, went our ways but kept comm(unicating) back and forth.

A month later we decided to meet at Express Mall and by then lots more stores were open to public. We took a stroll from one end to another end visiting all the clothing stores. I had no agenda to buy, but urges and splurges leave none untouched. To my surprise the same shirt that I had seen a month ago was on sale and was marked down by 50%. Excitement and adrenalin rush hit my head instantly.

Do you call this a coincidence, shoppers wisdom or providential blessing or karmic recon? I had seen him (read as shirts) earlier on two occasions but didn’t have the instant urge to splurge. And I strongly believed things will definitely come to you if it is truly meant for you, be it a shirt or others. I held the shirt against my chest with a sense of joy, achievement and satisfaction, and his approval added to my joy. But he insisted that I try out the shirt.

Trail…trail…trail….!

On the way to the trial room I found another white shirt (almost a see through material) which was on sale. He was a loner hanging on the rack and I decided to take all three of them into the trial room with me. I was not greedy or gluttonous to take everything inside the trial room, I was just being choosy, and most importantly size matters!

He waited outside while I tried on the new found loves and came out of the room looking for his assent. He checked out the cut and fit and advised me to go for a size less. I unbuttoned the shirt while he requested the sales assistant for the next smaller size. During the next trial he walked into the room and outright rejected the white shirt on the grounds of “size”. Not sure if he approved my hairy chest or the shirt, but the black and purple checked shirt made it to the billing counter without any second thought.

Was he a prudent shopper like me? Did he set his eyes on my and let me grace for a while before he bowed down to my arrow and hunted me down?

Now in a different store I started my trial with trousers. Vertical lines, cotton polyester mix with little sheen, thin loops, frictionless zipper that obeys gravity, straight fit and easy on wallet was my type. Trial and trail, all that changes is the placement of (i).

There was a line waiting to go in the trial room and looking at the line I hesitated if I should try it out or walk out of the store. But by the time we had our turn the trial rooms were empty. He had already seen my torso and I didn’t have to invite him for the next show. I undressed my pants and his eyes instantly caught the attention of my chiseled thighs. He immediately approved and applauded, “seldom we do we see men with chiseled thighs and I’m impressed”.

He checked out the fork line with his hands and outright rejected it. Was it too big or was it too small in his eyes? What put him off? Was it my size or trouser size? Choosing, selecting and approving ones clothes are very personal and I lowered my guard and let him into my space. Incursion or inclusion?

Until then the door was open and he was standing outside and loudly expressing his disapproval. Once I let the trouser under the influence of gravity (shh…well they were not willing to stay in my hip) he walked into the room and bolted the door. I felt like one of those Polo models descended from the billboard to help me with my clothing and more. I ignored the voices that I heard in the next rooms and quickly looked up to see if the trial room was under camera surveillance in the meantime my arrowed was bowing to him.

Aren’t trial rooms the best place to try out things before you buy them and bring them home? This man was of international quality, the stitch was perfect, the cut was trendy, and rest was beyond comprehension and description. I didn’t have to help, nudge or teach him, he knew exactly what he wanted and what to do and how to do. He became a lion at the fork! I caught him looking at the reflection in the mirror and relishing the act. I responded, recognized and reciprocated.

That was our R&R! (Reward and recognition)

What go dumped in that room was the trouser with a tight fork line and what got taken away was the love message written in his hanky. I stepped out first while he dressed himself and walked out with a contented feeling. Be it with men or clothes, we can rarely have the “contented” feeling for long. That evening I walked home with the feeling of content after finding the perfect fit, size and fabric. But will there be another elaborate trial or will I get to keep it forever?

Don’t worry about me….get ready for your trial.

Sex - A journey not a destination!

I wonder how many of you have really enjoyed the moments post the hormonal rush not worried about stained sheets and shooing your subject/object of pleasure (I call it getting rid of evidences and memories) and entertaining your new sense of hygiene and washing your guilt by jumping in the shower and treating every piece of cloth including your partner like dirty laundry and bed room like a crime scene. I know most of us will be able to relate to my topic of discussion either as criminals or victims.

I have known him for a year and when I held him against my chest for the first time I had this feeling I had known him for many births. Familiarity didn’t breed contempt! Defenses were down and insecurity vanished. There was no intention to seduce or suffocate, but everything that evening turned out to be beautiful that started with a mere hold. He said we could finish the evening with just that hold and made is sound as if my arms were the seat of his soul.

Like a satin ribbon around an eagerly awaited gift to be opened, I enjoyed wrapping my hands a treasure and trove of excitement. My palms felt every beat and every skipped beat in his chest but I was in no hurry to severe my ties with the gift or unwrap it. My soul was intoxicated from just the hug. The very thought of the scene makes my mind serene! Sex is not the destination it is the journey!

We all spend hours identifying, prospecting and attracting the right one while pretending to the best. Then we create the place and finally setting the stage and enact a script to climax, but seldom have we spent time post coital to enjoy the pure meditative state not with contemplation but just complete the moments unadulterated of love.

Like love, sex cannot be discussed and planned. The connection is instant and you don’t know how you get into it and when you get out of it. All you have to do is be attentive and sensitive. A sensuous touch can send him into a spiral instantly; a mere hiss can create a chuckle and become a ripple that touch the soul and open up the dormant volcano of emotions. Stimulate the emotions, receive and recognize without loss, and finally amplify to make the other partner feel loved and celebrated. Remember simulation is always a part of stimulation. Happiness is received as a result of giving and receiving.

Sex is not about climaxing but it is about connecting and communicating. Do people even know this side of sex? Once the fluid power is spent mind goes on to wander and invent a variety of reasons to get out of the place. Pearl necklaces turn into Pearl harbors and waist belts suddenly become ugly and are no more perceived as badges of honor or achievements. Is it waking up from comma feeling? What was yum so far suddenly becomes yuck when it leaks out of the body. But why?

I have had people who got dressed and left the place in minutes, I have had conversations till the fluids dried, I have had people who’ve brought cold towel and cleaned me up and I have had a few stay back and made the ritual extra special. What a variety!

Some of my best lovers have taught me the art of complete enjoyment in sex. I have learnt the most about love and lust in the minutes after climax. Like the beautiful stars that wink and twinkle I have seen some beautiful souls in the twilight hour under the blankets. Are you waiting for the twilight hour?

I have curled up with my partners and finished a tub of ice-cream together in bed while discussing politics, relationships, jobs and life. When our defenses and judgments are lying on the floor along with our clothes, isn’t that the best moment to take a peep at the naked soul? Bonding is further increased when we jump into the shower together and making the ritual of bathing into a ritual of bonding. He turns on the hot water and brings the towels while I take a leak and then we jump into the shower. I watch the beauty of every bit of his muscle hydrated on the outside and then I soap his back and he shampoos my head and then we share jokes and stories in the shower. He dries me and offers me a fresh piece of clothing. Sex is also not just about sensual touch, but also about love and care in the after moments.

The post sexual moments is like the twilight hour, it is not pitch dark and it is not glaringly bright, yet very mystical! It is not the union of hormones, not a vulgar exhibition of carnal behavior, but a mere display that tender touch, care, love and satisfaction when the engine and spark plug is switched “off”.

Sex is not about mileage, time, or repetitions but about satisfaction. Sex is a two way to communication between souls with the language of touch and feel using the body as a medium. Do people even get to that level of communication? And I always believed 50% of sexual pleasure is derived from how you treat the person before and after sex. Doesn't matter if you don't have a relationship in life, but dont miss such moments of intimate intimacy!

Giving is caring, caring is nurturing and nurturing is loving. Let us getaway from show up and shove up world and explore the beauty of the soul. Doesn’t matter even if you don’t want to meet that person again, but still you extend the arm of love and care without showing him the door!

Remember, the destination becomes more interesting when the journey is made interesting. Let us understand the journey so that the destination becomes self explanatory and self joyous!

Pride walk or Paranoid walk?

We have done 2 GLBT Pride marches with little or no opposition and question is still unanswered Is Chennai ready and open? More importantly the question should be Is LGBT community ready and open? If u were at the Pride you will choose the words dismal and disappointing to describe the participation. Examine the participants from each of the LGBT and their background you will be surprised at the social and economic spread. Maslow, Darwin and Moore were all right!

Of 50 gays who walked 10 were not natives of Chennai (may be they felt comfortable walking the pride in a city where they don’t live or belong), 10 were family and supporters, 10 were foreign nationals, and only 20 city boys walked with pride. Even among those only 10 walked without masks or other disguises.

We all know the number of people from Chennai who are registered on websites such as Planet roomeo, Gaydar, adultfriendfinder, etc. looking to meet their own community to satiate various desires. Of 10,000 plus in the city (assuming that 10% of the population is gay, my number is lot more conservative (I am a Chennaite!))only 20 walked the pride. Is it alarming or appalling?

I sent text messages to 10 of my friends that morning, many didn’t respond and I was just able to convince one of them to walk with me. And I had to assure him that I would get him a mask to wear. At the end of the pride he was happy and fear was quashed.

Many from the LGBT stayed on the sidelines and watched the parade along with the public. Many stayed behind the walls and firewalls, watched the pride coverage on television or read about it in the newspaper the next morning. Well that is how the LGBT community in Chennai and much across India is. Many who walked had disguise masks and crossed their fingers hoping not be spotted in the media by near and dear at home and work. Is it really a Pride walk or Paranoid walk?

It is not just with walking, it is with working and volunteering. Organizers and volunteers of the Pride March say it is tough to get people to volunteer for community. Truth is that most of us are watchers than walkers!

Chennai pride is just 2 years old, but LGBT community has always been a part of this city thrived and flourished in the underbelly. Now the time has come to work within the community and work outside the community. Deal with real issues apart from just the walk or community activity before the walk.

1.How can we get the rest of the community to shed their apprehension and take that first step towards the labor statute? How can we build trust, confidence and create a safe world for them to live, walk and laugh?

2.Gay, Lesbians, Transgenders and bi-sexual people exist at every social and economic level. How do we get representation from all strata and all regions? How do we create the inclusiveness? What is our grass root strategy?

3.Though we walked together as LGBT, but each of us has different sets of challenges and issues. How do we address them separately? For ex: Men are bold and brave to be a part of online community and meet people, but women get little chance to meet birds of same feather and are apprehensive about their safety and meeting people from online world.

4.How do we help each of the 4 groups with road maps to life and happy living (dating, relationship, old age, social responsibility)? How do we leverage literature and the social models from West and Indianize it? How do we prepare and support them for the life ahead?

5.How do we create more awareness and acceptance among LGBT circle of interaction and influence (family, work, friends and extended family) and policy makers?

6.How do we change public perception of L, G B and T and sustain image makeover?

7.Why can LGBT community be responsible, caring, loving, sensitive, and socially conscious and participative?

8.Can’t we can be the change we want to see in the world? Can’t we make healthy road maps from the next generation LGBT?

I am parking just a few questions that occured to me during the march. I am sure there are many more out there. Hope I will be able to take it up with the local community for a discussion.

Until then let the Labor statue (labor of love) remind of us the hard work ahead of us and my belabor end!

Thrissur Pooram Part 1 & 2

Rubbing against each other in a temple congregation, converting an open air stadium into an orgy park, and feeling each other in public place does all this take India (the land of Kamasutra) to the new heights in sexual liberation? Or has it always been there? Was it harassment or consensual? Was this happening to men or women or both? Can it happen in God’s own country?

When temples can have erotic postures depicted on the wall, what is wrong in groping to match the sounds of the Elenjithara melam?

I set out on the journey (Poolgrimage) to Thrissur to do a firsthand validation of tall and short, big and small, and black and white claims, during day and night!

Day 1: It was 7 am in the morning and I set out towards Round in Thrissur. Vehicular traffic is stopped and only Natraja service was available. Round is pretty much a hub of all activities! All mini Poorams from surrounding temples (9-10) temples congregate at Round, right outside Vadakkunathan temple. Mini Poorams (parade of elephants with the Utsavamurthy on top to the beat of drums and blow of wind instruments walk towards the main temple). It is a spectacle to watch the magnificent mammals walk round with a long and highly ornate decoration (Nettipattom) that run from their forehead to the middle of their trunk. The festival falls during peak summer in Kerala and this means you have no options to escape heat, mugginess, and sweaty days that makes you feel like sitting in an oven. I also managed to click an elephant with a hard on.

8:30 AM – I came out of Thiruvambady temple and was walking towards Round. Since I was already aware of Mallu men, their appetite and Thrissur pooram (a vehicle to their meat), I was all set to receive and record their pings, paws, and prowl. 2 men walking towards the temple paused and gave me a prolonged look. Not sure if it was my egg head devoid of fuzz or I was looking like a photo journalist that got their attention. My gaydar blipped, and I confirmed the blip when I found them turning back to catch a glimpse every few feet they moved forward.

Round – 8.00 AM
For the next hour I forgot my purpose of visit and I was running in front and behind the elephants to capture their movements in my SLR. By then the parade had reached Parameikkavu temple and I caught the mahouts squatting beneath the four legged creature and resting in the shade. The orchestra (drums and wind instruments) in front of the parade reminded me of my purpose behind the visit. I must confess bare-chested men beating drums looked hot and sweaty like freshly made gulab jamoon. I thought I was going to be a part of the audience, but it was these men who made me a player.

I spent the next ten minutes catching them on my camera, you may call it a sovenir. By then there was an impressive line-up of elephants and onlookers right outside Vadakkunathan temple. My petri dish was fertile and ready, while intentions of many were furtive and fleeting. There were 3 rows of youngsters on either side of the melam who lift both their hands to cheer the bare-chested men beating drums. I saw this as an opportunity to move in and feel them while they were busy throwing their arms up in the air and none to shield my movement. And this was when I also met a few friends from Chennai. I shared my plan with them to attack the first three rows, but they said these could not be gay men but only straight men. Well isn’t it all the more exciting to convert straight to gay and teach him all tricks in the trade?
We got close the press/media pit to get a few good shots of the elephants and onlookers. But very soon we decided we had to divide and conquer rather than play on each other’s turf or miss the game elsewhere. But before we split we promised to call each other and inform any action spotted or engaged. The heat was unbearable and we soaked our towels, handkerchiefs and the inner wear. Wouldn’t playdry (fit dry) innerwear be a good idea?

Brahmaswom Madam – 11.30 AM
It was 11.30 am and the next action pit was Brahmaswom Madam (North East corner of Round) the three of us decided to move towards the next action pit to check out the intensity of the hormones. We walked through the lane and there were people standing on top of buildings and looking at the public below, but then there were some eyes that were walking with us and at time chasing us and our hormones. We looked at the spread and quality, it was neither too good nor too bad and our appetite wasn’t big and we decided to save ourselves for the best. With the hope that we would find something we trekked back half kilometer to the Round.

Sun had reached the peak and our stomach was growling. We walked around the Round scanning for any actions, possible prospects and finally settled for some rice and buttermilk. I decided skip lunch and go a fluid diet (look more slim, fit and fiddle). One among the gang was strategically seated to scan every piece of meat that entered/left the restaurant. Where do full tummy and tired legs take you? We decided to go back to my friend’s room and rest our feet for the while before the next man-hunt. The next action pit was 1.30 PM – Elenjithara melam inside the temple and we had an hour to get there.

Our territories marked, our rules were simple and clear. We also made a pact to move away if one of us found an interesting catch and we would make our rooms available for the feast.

Fifteen minutes past one I stepped out of my friend’s room and headed to the elevator and there was a guy standing near the elevator giving me goose bumps, creating a twister within me and reminding me of my adolescent days. He must be in his mid twenties; there was sculpted flesh to host a carnival and his eyes were intoxicating and lost. I gave refuge to the lost eyes and offered him a souvenir, a token and love and in return took back a rain check for the night. He was worth many nights, but I wanted to look around the town before I settled for him.

We stepped into the elevator and there were two more eye candies starring at us. I moved and rearranged like the cola bottle waiting for its turn to be filled. One of them didn’t waste any second, he ignored my friend, beamed his smile at me and when the elevator door opened I moved closer to him and gently pushed his hard button to show my consensus. He held me from the back and asked how long I worked out and I answered a few more questions and then we parted. Perfect elevator pitch!


Elenjithara Melam – 1.30 PM
We entered the temple through South Gate and it didn’t feel like a temple complex. There were many standing just outside the gate and hunting with their eyes and smile. Who wants to settle down for a meal immediately when thousands of sausages are available for sampling? Men were scattered around like mushrooms under the trees and they were ogling at men entering the temple. I have never seen anything to this scale, choice and spread. There was definitely more than one for everyone to pick and move.

Some were in groups and some were all by themselves, but there was a lot of hesitation in air. What are they waiting for where there is burning desire I shook hands and spoke with a few, and didn’t go beyond that. While some friends of mine never bothered to engage beyond a short conversation and got into action right away. By then Elenjithara melam (near the Eastern gate) had begun. My friend’s phone rang and coordinates for the barbeque pit for sausage was shared. It was a 300 sqft place, 2 sides closed with brick, one side covered with wooden grill and the fourth side completely open. I saw people pretending to look at the melam through the wooden grill, but there was something else happening. I was not sure what was exactly happening. I folded my dothi and entered the pit for some action.

Men of all age group were there in that enclosure and every inch of space was occupied. I have travelled in suburban trains in Mumbai, but this place dethroned Mumbai trains. But unlike the trains there was no push or pull, but shoulders (flagella) moved to accommodate me in the overpopulated space and within seconds moved me to center of the room. Now no consent was required, one hand grabbed by ass, the second hand grabbed the boneless muscle and was vigorously exercising, third hand caressed my chest and fourth hand started to finger my ass. I felt like a rat pinned on a dissection board, I was alive and my heart was racing. My two hands were busy one trying to hold on to my dothi and the other wiping sweat off my forehead and my eyes turned a spectator with no control or influence. Like tonsure, kavadi, etc. doesn’t this sounds like a temple ritual?

I couldn’t stand in the action pit for more than 10 minutes with so many hands working on my sausage and those ten minutes felt more like a rape. We stepped out of the high action zone and took refuge in the garden on the Northeastern side of the temple. So many men exhausted from heat and action were all seated in the shade (pavilion seat) and watching people enter and leave the sausage pit. I rested for a while in the shade, we made a few eye contacts, got a few numbers and finally decided to go back to the room and come back fresh that evening for more action.
On the way home I met a few more men. Some were waiting for me to make a gesture and to talk to them, while some waiting for me to take them home. For once I felt like a celebrity and I decided to talk to all of them and shake hands though my sack wouldn’t have that much ink to autograph all of them.

Kodamattam 5 PM
I went home washed my parched throat with a few liters of spicy buttermilk and took a cold shower and proceeded back to the Round for Kodamattam. Elephants were lined up on either side and colorful umbrellas went up and down the cheer of the crowd. While many in the crowd was busy cheering, some in the crowd were rubbing their crotch against and a few hands that I shook before I went home that afternoon now approached me. Sun was setting and people were on top of all buildings trying to catch a glimpse of the kodamattam and I looked around to see how many on the high rises were looking at my high raise. I couldn’t spot any and moreover I was a tourist and I didn’t have to care about my identity and I let the hungry souls fondle me in the crowd. But I ensured I save myself for the night beyond the twilight.

So many on the street were looking around and sometimes I had to make the first move to shake hands with them and I didn’t use any of those cliched pick-up lines, “do I know you from somewhere”, “have we met before”, “you seem so familiar”. My question was sharp, action packed and driven. “Do you have a place”? For those without a place there were always dark corners in the city.

Thrissur Pooram Part 3

Stadium 7 PM
Around 7 pm the festivities ended and the crowd was dispersing in all directions. Many men were holding hands and huge gathering proceeded towards one direction, it was the Stadium. There was gait, energy, fervor, enthusiasm, excitement, purpose, desire, and lust in their walk. As we entered the stadium I had to remind my friends on our terms of engagement – divide and conquer, call and update on action zones, man-mines, and safety, inform if you decide to take one back to the room.

2 focus lamps stood on either side of the stadium and the semi circular gallery was slowly and steadily filling up. I stood at the center of the stadium and surveyed the audience (soon to be players). I didn’t know where to start the parikrama and was looking a bellwether. The southern and northern side of the gallery was both dark and colored everyone black, there was no partiality. From the center I could barely see silhouettes. By then my friends had vanished on their sexpedition.

I started from the Southern side of the gallery, I swiftly ascended the steps and by then there were so many men leaning their back against the parapet wall and standing like wax dolls in Madame Tassauds museum. Not sure if their posture meant they were waiting to get serviced or they were waiting to service.

Before I even encouraged the thought of picking one and settling down for a quickie I decided to go visit the exhibition. Mallu men came in various shapes, sizes, and skin. The spread in age, demographics, and ethnicity was breath taking. Didn’t matter if you were black or white, tall or short, thin or meaty, 20 or 60, there was unfulfilled desire in everyone. A few decided their play dates for the evening quickly and left the stadium, some used the stadium as a play ground and rest of others as audience to their play. Those who felt shy to have audience to their play descended the steps and disappeared behind the gallery/carpark. I waited and waited closer to the northern end of the gallery, but nothing to my tingle my taste (and buds) was around.

An hour into the play the inflow into the stadium almost stopped and I noticed buzzing activity in the southern end. I was also desperate to find something handy and dandy. Some were seated on the steps, some leaning against the wall and some trying to pull you into the action pit. The walk across the gallery was almost a triathlon race.

There were desirous animals watching me from behind the bush. Some making weird noises (hooting, mating calls, grope and groan) and making gestures to trap my attention. Some even touched me, but I ducked and pushed them aside and kept walking ahead. I felt like I was walking into a forest. By then my eyes were slowly adjusting to the dim light and darkness and my mind was processing those high adrenalin and testosterone filled images.

Was it Ford assembly line, oiled and regulated or was it ration shop queue, with pull, push and gossip or was it porn booth filled with graphic images, groping sounds and strong smell of hormones? I was walking south while an orderly crowd walked towards me paying their obeisance to the Kings standing against the wall. Some smooched their King and moved on, some walking on their knees orally satisfied him and moved on, some suckled his nipples like new born piglets, some hissed into his ears like hissing secrets in Nandi’s ears, some touching his gluteus like worshipping cows. A few Kings were worth paying obeisance, but it was difficult to jump the line. There was a queue for every kind of Seva. The worship was intense and faithfully fetish. Wow! It was religious sex and religiously sex! No jaragu..jaragu

Devotee or King? That was the choice that confronted me at this point of time. Remember election is a democratic process, Yes, by the people, of the people and for the people, but keeping your throne and satisfying people is your responsibility. I went through the crowd in half mind and suddenly I found a beehive of activity around me. Next minute my cargos were down and my tee covered my face and I was crowned the King with so many queens and drones around. A sex hive!

My mind went haywire from emotional and hormonal overload. I was reminded of the churning of the ocean of milk with the rope of snake and there were people on either side of me. There was competition not for the throne, but to satisfy the man on the throne. Who gets to stay longer, who gets the Kings juice? Sex was definitely king size!

But there is downside to so many hands and mouths reaching out to you. It can be rough and you don’t know what infections (inclusive of gingivitis) you get to take home as souvenirs. I couldn’t manage the crown and the thrown for long and suddenly I pulled up my pant and lowered my tee shirt and ran down the steps. Finally the runaway King decided to rest his bruised dick for the night from all the manhandling, while his friends stayed back at the fest for the feast.

City never sleeps should be the tag for this city. That night saw more action at the Round and finally it was rain that sent people back to their room. Next morning I heard more tales from my friends and we exchanges stories while waiting outside the temple for more Pooram action. I was still on a high from all the action in the last 24 hours and my roving eyes, high energy got me a few room invitations. I turned them down and headed home. My friends told me people were making out in the lobby, verandah and hallways in the hotels.

That evening I reached the train station an hour in advance and to my delight the train was delayed by half hour. This means I get to scan the passengers travelling to Bangalore (train to Bangalore leaves before Chennai). I entered the train station and decided to hang out by the lobby to scan every piece of luggage. Within minutes I got an invite from a Thrissur native and we found a safe spot to engage right behind the ATM machine. Let me tell you finding sex in Thrissur is easier than finding ATMs.

Two full days of sex, sex and only sex. From the moment I boarded the train in Chennai till I boarded the train back to Chennai there was action even before every milestone. Wow! Call it hell, heaven or God’s own country then I don’t mind living there forever. I have heard friends narrate stories of nude beaches across the world, about Amsterdam (sex capital of the world, but never heard such sexcapedes during a temple congregation. I have hit so many lingams in one go!I have a new record; if you are reading this let us go back again next year to create a new record of Linga points. First year they call them “Kanni samis”, should we call them “Sunni samis” and should we call visitors with 14+ years of experience as Gay samis instead of Guru samis”?

PS: It took me one week to sit down and narrate scene by scene, mile by mile and hour by hour. I am sure many of you will be appalled and I won’t be surprised if you asked me to take this off my blog spot. Thanks to my fag hag who gave me a place to stay and enjoy. I hope she doesn’t feel offended after reading me sexcapade.

Some of my friends think I have stooped down to make such posts and they opine that I’ve turned into a slut ever since this trip. May be they are right! I had sex with a vendor who came to meet my boss at work and I had web cam sex with a fireman in NY. I must tell you that I am no saint! This is my diary of life and I shall record every incident worth remembering and sharing.
Sexpedition continues….

Mallu Macaroons

A chat screen for somewhere opened up and within the next 5 minutes I was on IRCTC web looking at various train options and various classes to travel to Thrissur Pooram. It doesn’t hurt to share your dreams, desires and travel plans with your friends and colleagues because you don’t know who will remind you and push you to your dream “destination”. And also may be it also doesn’t hurt to be single because you are able to plan your journey and book your tickets in 5 mins. Thanks Seema!

Onward and return tickets were waitlisted and in the meantime I started scouting for accommodation. It is not easy to get accommodation in Thrissur during Pooram and hotel rooms go upto to Rs 10,000 per night. A colleague of mine promised to help me with accommodation, but 5 days before the travel date she ditched me! By then hotel rooms were almost sold out and those that were available were unreasonably priced. I was losing hope with waitlisted ticket and with no accommodation. I spoke to a few friends, but had no option but to be imposing and be shameless. Atlast a good friend of mine from Thrissur invited me to stay at her place and another helped me get my tickets confirmed.

I was excited about the trip that I took the day off from work just to pack and get ready for the travel. I must say the excitement also made me decide to go commando. I reached the station an hour before the departure and the platform was empty. I stood at the entrance to the platform and started scanning every piece of baggage that was arriving to board the “Alleppey Express”. I felt everyone who was on this train to God’s own country was headed to Thrissur for Pooram festival. Well does that make them gay or does that give me a reason to hit on them? But there is nothing wrong with roving eyes and hoping heart? Right?

I always arrive an hour before the train just to scan passengers/co-passengers and if you are lucky you can find berth mates. Finally the empty bogies were paraded into the station, lights were turned on and doors were thrown open to the crowd to board. I found a safe spot for my baggage and came out to catch the fresh breeze that was coming towards the train to Kerala.

Infact I thought of scanning other air-conditioned bogies to see the spread of the menu before I decide on my main course, but I decided to keep that for later, I had 9 hours of journey ahead of me to inspect goods on their way to God’s own country. I am sure God will just be fine because I was just ensuring that there are enough good ones are sent to his country. And I also wanted them reach their destination fresh and fine.

When I looked at him the first time I lost track of the next few minutes. He was hot, handsome, hairy and his lips were as pink as a new born. Should I say he was like “Arvind Swamy” in his early twenties? He was running around like mouse and I looked at him like a Lion. There is no use in hunting a prey until you are really hungry and sometimes the mouse can be recreation too. I brought back my attention to the names on the chart pasted on the side of the bogie. There was a sense of excitement and I felt like I was looking at the menu card. It was Koshys’, Georges’, Mathews, Jacobs and Shibus of the world. But who is for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, snack with tea or just as desert post the meal. It was like walking into the vegetable market and you always pass the first few displays with the hope the better stuff is waiting inside. I couldn’t make my mind which one was better. Is it a sign of greediness or a sign of prudence?

I scanned their ages and a put together a must see list in my mind. Yes, those were Mallu macaroons! I waited by the side of the bogie for the Ks,Gs, Ms,Js and Ss of the world to arrive. Cant I get cozy with the Koshys? I was dripping wet, not sure if it was the weather or the names and ages on the chart. Some walked with laptop bags, some were in a group, while came with their wife and kids. I asked myself why good looking men end their life with woman? And it was terrible to see them carry a child and half dozen bags on them. Isn’t that suicidal?

Finally the Deccan Queen with Mallu bloodline crossed Alleppey Express at Chennai Central. My man was back with no luck after chasing the TTE for a berth. He was waitlisted 17 but was determined to board the train. If he was not determined to travel, I was determined to call off the journey and go home with him. There was a big grin after a long hesitation and then he asked me if I was a native of Kerala. Can’t men outside of Kerala can be hot and happening? He appreciated my bald and clean shaven look and at that point of time I didn’t want to lose the golden opportunity to put my paws on the mouse’s tail to show my interest. Remember I going commando that night, and it was difficult to keep my little brother from getting excited.

“We both have desires to quench. You want to touch my head and I want to touch yours, and you don’t have a confirmed berth, why not we share the same berth and desires for the nite? In the meantime we exchanged numbers and I saw the guard waving the green light. He smiled and I reminded him my berth B1, 19 and stepped into the coach. He boarded one of the ordinary coaches in the rear.

So close yet so far. We were in the same train headed to the same destination, but our destinies seemed so far. I was secretly nursing this hope that this man of a 3 year child would come back with this back pack. I got into the train and waited for the TTE to examine my ticket before I start to survey my hunting ground and species. Survey was one way to make my plan A, plan B and plan C and the backup was always self service (apna haath jagannath).

I pulled out my mobile and sms’ed a few of my friends to proudly announce my catch at the railway station. My fag hag was totally surprised at my behavior, agility and swiftness. Already? In response to her sms I wrote to her, “If I were straight you would be mother of a few now”, while she responded, “ Hey Mr. I would have made you a proud grandfather by now”.

Will the dacoit ransack the Deccan Queen or will the Queen get coital with dacoit or will she ditch the dacoit?

I messaged him a few times to make sure he didn’t have a confirmed berth in the regular compartment. I had no clue if my messages reached him. I tried calling him, while Airtel network was constantly out of reach. Mobile network was playing a villain between us. It took a little over an hour for the train to reach Katpadi and finally when he arrived my sword instantly went up. Well isn’t this how Knights salute the Queen?

He flashed a big smile, I held his bag, put my arms around him and help him board the coach and next thing I remember was the shrill cries of the Chaiwala. I looked at the mobile and it was 5 past 6. I put my hand out and noticed that the berth had more room than last nite. He had already got down at his destination. I checked for my wallet and I found a small note along with my wallet. Before I opened the note I re-winded the time together last nite. There was lot of play, laugh and some talk.

The note read....

To the man who hunted me down and shunted me like an empty bogie,
Thanks to IRCTC for the waitlisted ticket. I never knew a stranger can offer to share his berth with me. It felt weird, but it was heavenly. Do you expect me to say that it felt better than my nuptial night? Can we travel together in the journey of life? You look beautiful even when you were asleep. Call me when you wake up and let me know how I can get rid of the hickies before I reach Hyderabad on Sunday?

Yours
Bitten and smitten waitlisted ticket

I called him the next second, we spoke for an hour. I told him how this journey was instigated by Mallu (my colleague), train confirmed by another Mallu (friend), accommodation arranged by another Mallu (friend) and finally my happening night with the Mallu from Hyderabad. I heard his laugh and the train slowly pulled into Thrissur station. I invited him to join me for the festival.

Was this a precursor or curtain raiser to more action over the next two days?
Did he join me? Come back for more on Mallu Macaroons!

A walk to remember

To the woman who made me feel like a man,

The walk to her room was beautiful and every inch of space as punctuated with trees and shrubs, and it was difficult to get a glimpse of the sky. She opened the doors of her room, left the key in the lock hanging from the padlock and invited me to visit the pond besides her room. It was a beautiful evening and the sun was just setting and I could hear songs of the homecoming birds. Nature was rejoicing!

I never knew karma could be resolved online. A year ago, she was in Germany and she had stumbled upon my blog, thanks to Google search. She left a few interesting comments on my blog and though she was busy finishing up her publication work over the next few weeks she kept coming back. I was kind of curious to know who someone in Germany was reading my blogs and I was happy to see those little notes she sent across.

We set our foot in the direction of the pond and we stepped on a carpet of dried leaves and twigs. The ground looked like autumn while the temperature was summer like. With every step I heard the little cracker go under our feet. I have done so many walks in my life, but this one seemed so special.

Over the last year we exchanged some emails and finally when comfort and trust arrived she suggested that we do a voice and webcam chat. She was curious to see the man behind the scribe. One fine day we decided to do a cam and voice chat. I have spoken to men online, I have done a camera chats too, but never with a woman. I was shy, reserved, felt like a fish out of pond throughout the conversation.

I looked at the pond, looked inside the pond and finally let me eyes walk around the pond. I surveyed the perimeter and stood on one of the side, but could never get to see my reflection through the dense green vegetation. I wanted us to sit there and cherish the moment looking at the pond together and feel the power of unspoken words. Our karma lines crossed and my heart was celebrating.

She arrived in India late last year, we spoke on the phone a few times, but I couldn’t go to her place in Kerala to meet her. She was clear that would not go well in her house. The only other plan to meet her was during one of her trips to Chennai.

I didn’t spend much time that evening looking through my closet to choose my trouser and tee for the evening. I didn’t bother wearing an expensive perfume. I have never been out with a woman, never met one for coffee, never got the door for her, and never been invited to her den. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing, following the right manners. I decided to keep it cool, casual and lose.

I wanted to sit by the pond and freeze the moment of togetherness that had finally arrived, but I was not sure how this would be construed, I held back my desire while I kept my foot forward. I felt special, I felt like a teenager and there was something indescribable in air. Definitely I knew it was not the coffee or the extra spoon of sugar that went in the coffee.

It was a typically village house with tiled roof, teak reapers running on the slanted ceiling. Everything from floor, to wall to ceiling was so simple. Walls were white and blank and there were no paintings, the only painting was the evening sunset. She pointed out that the evening sun pierced through the netted windows and brilliantly lit up the room, but today the sun was down by then. I registered her commentary on the sunset and looked up at the white ceiling. A sheet of polyethylene was running between the reapers and tiles. I have never seen this kind of ceiling before. May be it kept insects, squirrels and even snakes from seeking refuge in the roof. She gave me a quick tour of the house before we settled into the chairs in the living room. It was impossible to find such a house in the city. It was my dream house.

The chair was comfortable and so was the conversation. We talked about life, we discussed our philosophy, and our friends also joined the conversation. I didn’t plan to take so many to her small home that evening.

At an opportune moment she offered me a choice between a glass of water versus black tea. Water was the best option for the mouth that kept yakking all evening. I remember sharing my unending stories and unredeemed mileage with men. She was fine, and never sneered. And sometime back she even offered to join me in journey of life without any physical commitment. Now she offered me crumbs from the “Mysore Pak” she made, it was delicious. I have seen the sky, but never seen it in a woman’s heart. My respect for her and for women moved up a few notches.

Should I call this a date? Does good conversation and exchange of information over a cup of coffee qualify for a date? There was no overpowering testosterone in the air. There was no carnal intent. I felt a sudden surge in energy and I froze the moment and imagined what it would to be a straight man and fall in love with a women. When I grew up I missed capturing the emotions and feelings during puppy love, but now I felt I was back again at the same point. I captured the feeling in the remote corner of my heart.

Suddenly life seemed so basic, simple, safe, secure and full of promises. The struggle that I seemed to have with my sexuality vanished and my multiple identity dissipated.

Was it the setting or was it my friend who accepted me for who I am made the evening and/ the meeting memorable? Was there expectation in us? Was it just friendship between us? I knew I would have never been able to do this if I had gone there with expectations. I didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to clarify, and I wanted to enjoy the moment. It was my first date with a woman and I wanted that to be etched that way in my history of life. Hope she will allow me to do so.

Yours faithful chick magnet!

February Fragrance

When this son of Venus and Mercury arrives there is excitement in air, the evening breeze loaded with romance, slick poetry in the tip of the tongue, arms that extend thorn-less rose stems across miles, and beating hearts on their sleeves. Even saints were not spared! Well it is February and what do you expect other than romance, courtship and excitement? But why just 28 days? You figure it out!

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love said Albert Einstein. Art, music and other “common interest” made their paths cross, and Krish had known Vinay to the last alphabet and his position bed. That was customer service beyond Hyatt and Marriott. They were much more and complete than the couple in the Wills hoarding and it seemed like there were “Made for each other”. What does that “e” do in made?

Oh wait…did I hear February also means summer in Southern hemisphere? So, what is summer without the bonfire?

Krish and Vinay had known each other for over 3 years and their explored intimacy was only recent. But nevertheless his majesty gave away pearl necklaces on the weekends (gift of endearment) and bedtime stories were painted, washed and new ones re-painted on the sheets. February does its magic on everyone from Saint to mortals.

One day Vinay’s friend Veena noticed the announcement on Krish’s Facebook and called Vinay to confirm and congratulate. But a minute into the conversation Vinay logs into Facebook and discovers his future. Frozen in shock or excitement? He catches Krish on the chat. Krish confirmed his engagement to a girl and the screen went blank, numb and dead.

And what do you do when the bonfire turns into a brushfire? Should Vinay call for help? Should Veena spill the bean that it was her cousin who got engaged to Krish?

Was it walk the talk with Vinay or walk the aisle with the bride that mom chose? Some men never grow up and can never make the right choice. Vinay always knew he was a cat on the wall but still entertained and intertwined with him and now it was en”tearment”.

No call, no communication of any sort, he abruptly vanished from Vinay’s life like a Kangaroo in the outback. How does it feel when loyalty and love is betrayed? But what about their loyalty to themselves, to their own deepest desires? Veena knew her cousin was getting married to Krish and Vinay never received an invite for wedding, and neither of them could do much about it.
Both life and love has many reasons and seasons and sometimes it unfolds with a surprise to many in courtships and out of courtships.

Can a wedding invite really push down the thinking spiral? Huh… a thinking spiral? Remember the antonym for spiral is straight so should I now rephrase it as a straight spiral or just leave it as spiral? A spiral is a spiral is a spiral! But spirals seem so exciting and churn in the stomach is so intense when left under gravity, isn’t it?

Sidharth and I shared the bench in school, and over the years of growing up we shared just more than the bench. The benchmark!

He is the only friend from high school that I am in touch with. He could be in the middle of the ocean, but never failed to wish me on my birthday for the past 20 years. That intimacy we shared during our schooldays ended with our schooldays, but this gesture made me hold on to our friendship close to my heart. I never had an answer as why he remembered my birthday and didn’t fail to call me every year. Though it sounds like a nice gesture sometimes it feels spooky that someone is keeping count of your age.

We have made out so many times in the school terrace, during the class, and many times at my terrace at home. But as life plays, we went to different colleges and specialized in different streams and took up different professions. I was grounded while he sailed boats and oceans.
Are we hiding our bows and quiver of arrows? And why? Every time he comes into the town he calls me and we make plans for a casual meet, but then it never happens. We discuss about life, work, our families over the phone, but we never spoke about schooldays. This was like driving a bike with no rearview mirror. Absolutely no opportunity for reminiscence!

I probably felt he was exploring as a part of the growing up and coming to age process and there was nothing more deep or inveterate. Every time he called he would curiously ask me if I am single and why am I still single? Since I was not able to gauge his orientation or preference I never gave a definitive answer. Our friendship existed even in uncertainty.

And this time again when he was in town he called me but there was a tone of sadness in his voice. He asked me how I am able to put up with parental and societal pressure and continue to stay single. But he insisted that always saw him single and never even thought of marriage. This made me “queer”ious, but I had nothing more than the past to extrapolate.

I wanted to meet and share my story with a friend who has made it a point to call me for every birthday since we left school. I definitely didn’t want any secrets between us, but at the same time I didn’t want our friendship to be washed by the oceans to a no-man’s-land. Dichotomy and my secrets were killing me. Isn’t walking around the fire much safer than walking in the fire or into the fire, right?

Wearing a plastic smile, carrying my gift of memories from our school days, I could never muster courage to attend his wedding and queuing up to shake hands with him and his wife and tell her that I know his "tool from school".

A few weeks later an unfamiliar number but a familiar voice reached me and it was Sidharth. There was no trace of sadness or compulsion that was there in his earlier call, and he was levitating in happiness over his “engagement”. He delivered the news about his marriage in March and promised to come over to my place to invite my parents. Isn’t sham is one letter short of shame?

Will Krish and Sidharth stay in the marriages happy or will they visit the “Gayville” at night? Everything seems transient and no answer in the horizon.

I never knew the real him and he never knew the real me, but I guess that is how many straight relationships and marriages are today. I could never figure out who is gay and how long the person remains gay? I am not even sure if we have people committed to their “gayhood” if not to their men/women.

Unreclaimed and unrequited such is life, love and friendship. The fragrance of February and friendship ended in a mélange of madness and marriage. How many more Februarys’ and how many more such Ks and Ss? Did I say or sound cases? Huh!

I am single and fabulous and for the rest who are single out there remember Robert Browning - Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

The Hard Talk

Olivia Judson, an author and a columnist with NY Times in this week’s column writes “When it comes to sex and reproduction, mammals are ultra-orthodox and, frankly, rather dull”. May be she doesn’t know about us. In her column she worships “Ciliates” as one of the most sexually unorthodox group on earth. Aha!

Now we men/women have a role model to look up to and learn from. But Olivia may never know that and she may never know our capabilities over the handset, our unorthodox approach to intimacy. But when she reads this she will definitely change her opinion on Mams and mammals.

Isn’t there always an element of pleasure involved in communication? You pick up the phone and there is always a message to convey, a mood to display, and finally variety of emotions to suggest and enthuse. Isn’t there beauty in communication without touch, sight, and just with your imagination and vocal chords? Am I making it sound like an Opera?

Physical intimacy over the handset? To some this may sound excitement and music to ears and organs, and to some it may sound hideous and heretical. I am not sure how Alexander Graham Bell would have reacted if he knew that his invention was used for copulation. Would he be proud? Would he have used it for this purpose? Who cares!

Well phone sex or hard talk is intimate enough to be safe and convenient despite the distance. Sometimes you talk to people whom you already know and sometimes you get to know the person after the talk and sometimes it really doesn’t matter. The message is simple – excite the party at the other by engaging them in a sensual way. Am I making it sound like telesales?

It does matter if you reduce your age by a few years and exaggerate your stats by a few inches, they won’t know and mind it. What is wrong in narrating what you like to do? And what is wrong in giving a running commentary of what you are doing and what you would like to do. Isn’t that experience sharing?

What are you wearing today followed by where are you now? Have you heard that question on the phone in a very sensual way? That is where it all begins and the reply unveils the portrait of the person just enough to etch the graphical image to be used during the conversation and act. The next tollgate in the act is to understand the need of the other person and their act to excitement and climax.

In seconds beautiful clothes decorate the floor, subject lies on the bed like a model, both hands are set and busy while the shoulder holds the handset. Perfect coital pose, isn’t it? Eyelids shut, mind projecting the image, olfactory nerves generating the scent, your hands are ready to work on you and for you. You know the right pace, the sensual hold, the right position while you fantacize of the unknown and unseen. Mating calls over the phone! Does it sound animal like?

Isn’t this better than just starring at porn on the computer or TV screen? You have a real voice creating the mood, making the touch, holding the tool, and helping your reach the climax at your own speed and comfort. You enter, you let it enter at your own conditions of temperature, pressure violating Charles and Boyles and many more Laws in Physics, Chemistry and Biology. Doesn’t this sound unorthodox enough for Olivia Judson?

Phone sex can happen between strangers, friends and partners in a relationship separated by distance. And today mobile phones have made the act even easier and you don’t need a long telephone cable running through the house and you can climax in your garage, bathroom, bedroom or kitchen counter giving you the same element of pleasure. Mobile sex, huh?

When the act ends you can either choose to hang up or continue to talk depending on your mood and if it comes free or for a charge. It doesn’t fall either in the category of infidelity or prostitution. It is neat, clean, disease free, and at your convenience and at your home. Wow!

So what you waiting for? Time to choose the cheapest network provider in your country. There is no Regis Philbin to ask you if you want to phone a friend or a stranger, you decide your cuisine and menu for the day.

Communicate, copulate and compete with the Ciliates.

Yours Sinfully & Sincerely,