Saturday, 16 March 2013

The Afghan Sub - Part 3 : Isolation

Continued from part-2

We dance together for two more songs. So far I have been quite the chatterbox.  This time I keep my mouth shut. She likes me. She knows I like her. She knows I see her sexually. She sees me sexually. She knows that I know that she sees me sexually. I know that she ........... er! I think you get the point.

So I decide to give her the time to digest the changes that have taken place in our budding "relationship". You see, girls need time. They are not like us, always off to the races. The courtship must be paced.

We dance close together, my bare legs rubbing often against her jeans, my quads rubbing against her crotch. She too dances the two songs silently. After two songs, it seems she is ready for some escalation.

"How about we get a drink, Vida. Go outside and talk about the meaning of life?"

She laughs. I lead her out of the dance floor to the bar, get a couple drinks and head out to the patio. We sit down perpendicular to each other in such a way that the legs are touching. A conversation has spontaneously begin when we were ordering drinks itself. Just normal fluff talk. Apparently she is a big fan of Archie comics. What a Geek! I remember all my cousins in India and what big fans of archie comics they used to be. It used to amuse me no end. The Archies are American comics and all the rage among teenagers in India. In America, hardly anyone reads them. She asks me what I do. I tell her I am an Engineer on a sabbatical, instead of a Pussy Hound on the Dole. Given my urbane manner, it is easy for her to buy that.

"What do you do for expenses?"

"I have savings"

"Wow! It's hard for me to save anything"

"For a small fee, I will teach you"

" Hahaha! How much are we talking"

"Not much. When you start your own chain of michelin starred restaurants, I'm asking 10% of the gross."

"Hahahaha"

 Good feelings all around. Just the way I like it. We talk some more about general shit. During the course of the conversation, I manage to find out some logistical details. Apparently she lives in a studio by herself in a part of town that is home to artists, musicians, hippies, vegans, greenies, those sort of people. I live in a house with three other guys, two of whom look perpetually stoned and the other looks like he has been sucking on lemons all his life and forgot to spit out the pips. If I can help it, I would rather not bring her to my place. I would prefer to go to her place if she lives by herself. Generally, PUAs recommend bringing the girl to your place since you can control the environment there. While this argument has merit, I make the claim that the girl is more comfortable when you are seducing her at her own place instead of yours. The environment is familiar to her. So she feels safer there. And if she lives alone, she need not worry about her flatmates judging her. And help from danger is only a shout away. Plus, artists happen to be a pretty non-judgemental people when it comes to sexuality. Now, if she lived with flat mates in a republican/bourgeois part of town, then I might consider asking her over to my place. I make a mental note to try and find better flat mates.

 I steer the conversation to food. She does not like Anthony Bourdain. Says he is a cocky bastard while looking at me meaningfully.

"Yes, Vida. It is not good to be a cocky bastard"

"You're saying this!?!"

"Baby. It ain't cocky if it true"

"Hahaha"
 
She is a fan of Andrew Zimmern. We tells me a bit about the world of trainee chefs. I listen for the most part, but interject occasionally with cocky comments that have her laughing.

"So what is it like to make your dish and have it appraised by your instructor?"

"You feel like you are being judged all the time. He can be pretty sarcastic at times."

"Food Critics!! That can be pretty rough."

"Sometimes I forget to enjoy myself while I cook"

"What you need is to cook for a food lover who truly enjoys his food in the animal sense of the word"

She just smiles.

"So why don't we go to your place where you can cook me some steak tartare foie gras while I peruse through your diary entries."

"Hahaha! I'm not going to let you go through my diary."

That was the cue I needed. I get up and grab her hand

"Okay, in that case, I'll just read Betty's diary while I wait."

She laughs and takes my cue. She gets in her car and I get on my bike. In 10 minutes we are at her place. It's a nice comfortable studio apartment. Lots of non-corporate cafes in the area. Quite a vibrant environment for 9 pm on a weekday night. I guess artists do not have regular 9-5 jobs like the rest of the proletariat. I wonder what the rents are like? Will my finances permit a habitation in this part of town? I make a mental note to check if anyone here is looking for a flatmate with plenty of charm but limited financial means.

"Nice place, Vida. Where do you keep your archies?"  I ask while looking around

"Hahaha! You are not going to help me cook?"

"Awww! Do I have to?" I say while stamping my foot on the floor

"Hahaha! Yes you do."

"Alllriiiiiiiiiiight"  I raise my hands in mock surrender.


 *******************************************************************************


"So Vida. What is it that makes you so passionate about cooking?" I ask while nonchalantly sipping my drink.

For some reason, this question leaves her at a loss for words. I decide to clarify.

"It's just that it's been a long time since I met someone with passion and ambition. I'd forgotten what it feels like to be around someone like that."

She smiles. She nods. She blushes. She looks down at the ground. And then again at me. I lean forward while maintaining eye contact. Put the drink on the table and with one hand, I pull her chair towards mine. As our chairs touch, I bring her lips towards mine kiss her. I can still taste those lips as I write this. Long passionate kiss.................................. Excuse me, I think I will just stop typing right here. You see, there is something I need to attend to right away.

to be continued


Monday, 4 March 2013

The Amazon - Part 6: Obsession and Freedom

continued from part-5

We continued to meet over the next few weeks. She seemed to enjoy dominating me. She seemed to get off on the sense of power. She found ever new ways to physically dominate me. Scissoring my head, scissoring my body, bear hugging me, wrestling me and subduing me. When I screamed, it turned her on even more. Disturbingly, the pain and humiliation was starting to turn me on as well. The only thing she did not do as yet was hit me. She never hit, kicked or scratched me. I would spend the next day bruised and hurting every time I turned my neck. And every time it hurt, the memories came flooding back. Every time the memories came flooding back, I got aroused. Every time I got aroused, I would get a strong urge to see her. She no longer needed to text me. I would text her. Every single day.

"Hey, what's up girl? Why don't I come over?"

The answer was invariably, "Not today", or "I feel like eating *dish*"

She was costing me money. She had taken over my mind. I was obsessed. Obsessed with fucking her. Of tricking her. Of slipping past her. I would keep tonguing her till I felt that she was sufficiently aroused and without a word, I would unzip my jeans and penetrate her. I never took my jeans off while fucking her. Never unbuttoned my jeans. Simply unzipped them, pulled out my member and inserted it in. I did not succeed all the time of course. I actually succeeded only couple more times. Usually she would catch me at it. Whenever she caught me at it, she would scissor my head with me a crushing force that would make me scream. Her thighs were rock hard and I was afraid my skull would crack. I knew she did not care if it did. On one occasion, I even blacked out. By definition, A force that is strong enough to put a man to sleep is strong enough to kill him. The thought only aroused me more.

The interesting thing is that the couple times I managed to insert my cannon into her cave, she never forced me to pull out or punished me in any way. The fear of pregnancy removed, I pounded her pussy like a battering ram pounds the walls of an ancient fortress. I ejaculated into her each of those times. She never said a word afterwards. The sensation of ejaculating into her was the type I have never experienced before or since. It was intense, delightful and sinful. And I was sinking into perdition.

I was getting obsessed with her. I lost interest in going to the Gym and working out. I lost interest in meeting other girls. I did approach a single other girl in those weeks. I lost interest in my other activities. I was no longer interesting in hanging out with friends. I was no longer going to community college classes to attend my course in automotive mechanics. All I could think was how long I had to wait till I could get with her. The only other day I waited for was the one in which I collected my government cheese. 

At the same time I was also feeling dirty. Every time I came back from her place (except the times I penetrated her), I resolved never to see her again only to text her the following day. I was sinking deeper and deeper. Surely, this was the road to perdition.

I became her slave. I Cooked for her, vaccuumed her place, did her laundry and even fanned her when she used to take one of her afternoon siestas during the weekends. I finally also tongued down her ass while she sat on my face. And I started liking it.

Day and night I struggled with my situation. A situation of my own making. And then finally it happened. It happened suddenly. And it happened with a finality. I was massaging her back. Suddenly, my arousal disappeared and turned into unpleasant sensations that burned my chest. Revulsion swept through me. Nausea gripped me. Without a word, I stopped massaging her, walked out of her room, her door, her gate, got on my bike and drove away, vowing never to return. She for her part, did not say a word. I deleted her number from my cell phone along with all the memory in it and just like that, I was free ........ at least for the time being.

concluded

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

The Amazon - Part 5: Domination

continued from part-4

If I feared that Britt might get pregnant and decide to keep the baby, my fears were unfounded. Britt has aspirations to be a professional fitness model and pregnancy would put a serious spanner in her ambitions. One of the first things she did when she went to the kitchen was to pop a few pills

"What are those?"
"I can't get pregnant now."


End of my big worry. Still, the fact that I had probably been raped in the technical sense of the word bothered me. I mean she did not let me pull out when I was ejaculating. That's rape right? But then again, it was I who had neglected to use protection while invading her territory with my artillery. Still, something about the whole experience of being dominated felt wrong....... And arousing........ which in itself was quite disturbing. I needed some time to come to terms with what happened.

"I am going to take a bath now", she said. And then pointing to the cum stained area of my wranglers around the zipper area, "You better go home, wash up and get a change of clothes as well. I have an full day tomorrow."


The next day I received a text from her,
"The chicken was really nice"
"Thanks for sharing it with me"
"LOL"


I was very disturbed by the fact that I found the thought of being dominated arousing. I was feeling sensations I had never experienced before. I never thought that I was the kind of guy who might enjoy an experience such as this. I resolved never to see Britt again, except maybe to collect my Utensils. I even reconsidered just writing off the utensils as a loss and buy new ones. For a stingy bastard like me, that IS a big deal. I deleted her phone number.

Sunday afternoon, I receive another text from her.

"Hey! What are you up to."

The moment I receive the text, I again feel that strange feeling of arousal. The thinking part of me wants to just ignore the text. The feeling part of me wants to go to her place. After a brief struggle, feeling defeats thinking........Again!

"Going to Walmart to replace the Utensils you took from me."
"Haha"


Not the response I was expecting. After 15 minutes I text back.

"Maybe I can come pick up the utensils from your place."
"I'm not done with the chicken yet."
"Great, then I can come taste some of what is left."
"Haha! No way. It's all mine."
"Maybe I can come by and make a persuasive argument."

"LOL"
"I'm coming over."
"I'm in the backyard."


I decide to drive to her place. I put on my wrangler jeans, Old navy t-shirt, converse shoes and head to her place. I unlatch the gate and let myself in. She is sunning herself on a bench in her black bikini and dark sunglasses. She makes no movement to acknowledge my entrance. I walk towards her till I am facing her. I'm standing and she's lying down. She acknowledges me. We stare at each other for a minute or so. 

"Hey"
"Hey"


I go and sit on the bench, bend and kiss her thigh.

"Get me a glass of wine and give me a foot massage first."

I pour her and myself some wine and head out.

"What's the other glass for?"
"For me"
"You'll be busy massaging my foot. You won't have time for it. Put it on the table"


I am getting hard as I am writing this. Why does this arose me? The thinking part of me wanted to throw the wine in her face, smash the glasses and head out of there forever. The feeling part wanted to comply and mangify these strangely delightful new feelings of arousal. Feeling trumped thinking. Again!

She sipped her wine as I massaged her foot. Her foot was on my lap ....... on my hard cock. She laughed. She knew.

"Mmmmmmmm! This is wonderful, Lalit."
"I'm sure it is."
"Don't be so grouchy. I know you are enjoying it as well. In your own way"
She pressed her heel on my hard cock for emphasis and laughed.

I massaged her foot for about 15 minutes and my fingers started aching. I'm sick of this shit. I got off the couch and knelt on the grass. I started kissing her toes. She liked it. I started kissing her calves. She liked it. I started kissing her slowly, moving all the way to her crotch. Her crotch was wet. I took of her panty. I unzipped my jeans.

"No"
"What?"
"Eat me"


I stared at her. She grabbed my head and pushed it towards her crotch. God, she was strong. She again locked my head between her thigh in a headscissor. And she applied the pressure. I screamed.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"Let me go, baby. I'll make you happy."


Why was I so aroused?

I ate her pussy. And I ate it some more. With my tongue, I did the alphabet and the numbers and the roman numerals as well. She moaned and twitched and came a couple times. I kissed her lower abdomen, and started moving up to her belly button. She pushed my head down to her crotch again.

"Stay there"
"But baby.....I"
"Do it"


I got to her vagina. I kissed her vagina. No more tongue. I started breathing into her vagina with kisses.

"Good", She approved as she sipped her wine. After a few minutes, the urge to come was overwhelming in me.

"Baby, I got to come too."
"Ok. Wait here"


She got up and went inside. I waited with anticipation. She came out with handcuffs.

"Huh? What's that?"
"It's what you need."
"What?"


In a trice she was on me. She overpowered me and I was soon on the grass on my stomach. She was sitting on my back. She grabbed my wrists, pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me. She got up, grabbed me by the back collar of my shirt and lifted me up. She dragged me towards the couch by the collar. She lay down on the couch on her back and pulled me to lay down on top of her. She positioned me till her knee cap was in contact with my throbbing cock through the jeans. The zipper area of my jeans was right on top of her knee cap. She held me in position with her hands as she started rubbing my cock with her legs. I came in under a minute. Thrice. My jeans were drenched with cum. She laughed.

"I made you happy, now your turn." She said as she pushed my head down towards her crotch again.

I was back to eating her pussy. She squirted. This girl is insatiable. After a few minutes I was hard again. She noticed and laughed.

"You'll need that much for your work. Continue with your job. You're doing good."

She made me alternate between a massaging her foot, calves and thighs and eating her out. After she was satisfied, "Okay. Good Job. You're a fast learned. Go home now. See you later."


The same pattern repeated itself the next time. I spent hours eating her out and massaging her, kissing the various parts of her anatomy, tonguing her down, but she never let me penetrate her or even to kiss her on her lips.

"Britt, This is not working out for me."
"Why? You seem pretty happy"
, she said looking pointedly at my hard member.
"Britt, I want to fuck you!"
"I'm not into dick, Lalit. I'm into tongue"
"But we had sex the first time"
"That was different. You tricked me."
"What? You seemed to like it."
"No! You tricked me. And I don't want you to do it again."


There was no point arguing. There is no point arguing with any woman. I made my displeasure known. She knows how I feel. And she does not care. But I decide to "trick her" the next time we meet. 

"And by the way", she said as I turned to walk away, "Next time bring extra trousers."


concluded in part-6

Friday, 22 February 2013

The Afghan Sub - Part 2: Escalation

Continued from part-1

It did not take great insight to figure out that she liked me. Her face would light up every time it was my turn to be her partner. She danced closer to me than the others did. She asked quite a few questions. When she was dancing with another guy, I would frequently catch her looking at me.

For her part, she was definitely bang-able. She was 5'2". A full 9 inches shorter. So I towered over her. She was probably 90 lbs at max. I could have bench pressed her quite easily. Face was a 7. Dark hair, dark doe-eyes, light brown complexion, full lips, oval face. Yes, this will please my one-eyed trouser-snake.

It was easy to see why she liked me. Her parents moved to the U.S. before she was born. Both her parents and siblings were big fans of Bollywood and had managed to pass that on to her. She did yoga, liked South Indian food and wanted to visit India some time. And here I am, an Indian guy (The land of my ancestors, at least. I'm American Yo! More American than Apple pie), well positioned to take advantage of the situation.


Progression
The first class was just pleasantries, getting to know each other superficially, with the occasional flirting with comments like, "What! you again?" when it was her turn to partner me again. Or something like, "What you are just going to grab my shoulder like that? What about chocolate and flowers?" She never failed to laugh when I made comments like that. We have a bit of a chat for 15 minutes or so once the class is over. She tells me she is training to be a chef. I volunteer to be a guinea pig for all her culinary creations before she unleashes them on an unsuspecting public. For a small fee of course.

I drive a bike to save money on fuel (70 miles/gallon), insurance ($100/yr) and repair work (Bikes are easy for DIY repairs). But to her, it immediately sets me apart from the car drivers. Her eyes light up when she says, "Oh! you drive a bike?"

During the second class, when I was partnering her, we stopped to listen to the teacher's instruction. I did not let go of her waist or hand and she made no move to take them away either. The eye contact was pretty intense while we were dancing. I always have that mocking smile on my face and her face always looked like it was going to break into laughter any minute. While dancing I squeeze her palm. She squeezes back. We talk again for 10 minutes or so after class. She is wearing long jeans with converse shoes. The jeans are a couple inches too long with the result that the bottom portion of her jeans is torn due to all the walking she does. What is it about that tear that causes a rumbling in my loins? I tell her, I like her Jeans. Her face lights up. I tell her how much I dislike girls who roll up their jeans and what a relief it is to see someone who knows how to wear jeans properly. She starts to blush. I ask her if she wants to go out dancing after the next class. She's game.




                            Dressed with a similar cut of jeans but little longer



Before the third class, I have a wardrobe malfunction. I turn up in class in short black gym shorts and a white t-shirt. She is dressed in exactly the same style that she was dressed the last time when I compliment her. Converse shoes, Long jeans torn at the bottom. When it is my turn to partner her, I give her the once over. This is a quick look from top to bottom. You are appraising the girl in full view of her unashamedly. If done right, the girl blushes. She does not comment on my attire. But the conversation this time is more than a bit muted. There is a sort of tension in the air. I like the tension. I decide not to break it by conversation. She takes the cue as well.



Escalation
After class, we head to a coffee place to get our caffeine fix before heading out to go dancing. I notice that Vida keeps looking at my calves. She's not staring, but stealing glances at them. She can't seem to help looking at them. But she is not comfortable stealing glances at them either. I feel like a piece of meat. I like it. I like it when girls check me out as if I am a piece of meat. I'm not sure what the girls are complaining about when a man checks out their rack. Ladies? I think you just enjoy complaining.

 The gym work I have put in after going on welfare is definitely paying off. Hey, you bums who spend all the government cheese on booze and crack. Maybe, you need to hit the road? Occasionally?  Hmmmmm? I never had the energy for serious work outs after having my life sucked out of me trying to meet those interminable deadlines. When I started on welfare, I was 130 lbs. Now, after 9 months, I am at 150lbs. All muscle, the extra 20 lbs. Maybe other virgin nerds should follow my example? Guys, if you are smart enough to design propulsion systems, or write software code, you are smart enough to game the welfare system. Do it. It's not even that risky. Damn, I should be a life coach.

After coffee, we head to this place that is frequented by liberal chicks and hipsters. So they are not too fussy about attire. I can make it past the bouncer in my gym shorts. And they are having a salsa night. We start dancing. I have to leverage the fact that she loves my calves. We talk, all the while maintaining eye contact. Very sexy

Me: Great dress style
She (shyly): Thanks, You too
Me (amused smile): But I'm not being sarcastic, Vida
She: I'm not either, Lalit.
Me: I'm not being polite either.
She: Me neither. 
Me: But I really think you are well dressed
She: I think you are well dressed as well
Me: Naaah, You just like to stare at my calves

She slaps my shoulder and gives me that I can't believe you said that look. She blushes furiously, embarrassment takes over her face and she buries her head in my chest. I take in the moment. I take her hand and continue dancing. She too follows my cue. But she cannot face me. Her head is still buried in my chest. I bring my nose to her hair and smell it deeply. She does nothing. Yes, women SHOULD be shorter than men. I decide to escalate further.

Me: Vida, I was very flattered to be so appraised by a great connoisseur of beauty and form like yourself.
She (head still buried in my chest, bangs my chest with her head): Oh, Stop it! 

I take her right hand and place it on my shoulder (Her left hand is already on my shoulder. We are dancing salsa, Doofus!). I lift her chin with my fingers so we're looking into each other's eyes and I say, "Come on, Vida! Don't be like that. Would it kill you to say that I have delicious calves?". She again bangs and buried her head in my chest, but this time she's laughing softly. Her hands are still on my shoulders. I've got my arms around her, just above he butt. We dance for a few seconds like this. She looks up at me, "Okay", she blushes, "I like your legs." I move my lips towards hers and we lip-lock. We kiss. Her lips tasted so good. Kinda like honey. With a dash of cinnamon, I think. We danced for a while with our lips locked in that position and would have gone on like that forever, if that Godamned song had not come to an end. Thank Goodness it did not come to an end before, or else the kiss would not have happened at all. Thank Goodness for small mercies. Whenever, I feel that the universe is out to get me, I think back to this moment. Yes, sometimes the universe favors me. She is not always out to get me.

to be Continued 
    

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

The Afghan Sub - Part 1: Salsa Class

History with Salsa
Once upon a time, long long ago, so long ago that it seems like a different world and I feel like a different person, I took Salsa Classes. For a whole year. The idea was simple. It had been three and a half years since I had touched a woman, let alone kissed or felt up one. I was still a virgin and I was done with grad school and working my first job. A 24 year old virgin, if you will. Cash rich and sex poor. Compared to now where I am cash poor and sex middle class. To be sex rich, you have to be doing at least 8s on a regular basis, no exceptions.

So Salsa Classes seemed to be a good idea to get across the touch barrier. You know, like actually touch a girl! Gasp, I wondered what more debauchery would follow! The mind was reeling with the possibility of an endlessly hedonistic lifestyle. I remember the first class. I got to put my trembling palm on a 20 something girl's waist. She was probably freaked out, who knows. I'm just guessing that a girl would get freaked out if the guy's hand on her waist is shaking. I was too excited to notice her getting freaked out, if she was. I was actually touching a girl, I was being born again, I was making the transition from a baby to a toddler. Eeeeeeyahoooooo!

Anyway, the whole Salsa class thing was a learning experience. I kept at it a whole year. Apart from work, that was my other passion. I became a pretty slick Salsa Dancing virgin at the end of that year. Which I presumed was better than being a virgin who could not dance salsa. I'm not sure what I was thinking. Like some girl would come up to me and say, "Hey! You are such a great Dancer. So smooth. So skilled. I want to see if it extends to another area as well. Why don't we go to my place so I can check this theory out." Yeah, right!

Aaah! The follies of youth. But jokes apart, now that I think of it, there were a couple young girls I could have banged with not too much difficulty, if not for my retarded social skills. Now, with hindsight, it seems obvious that a couple decent looking girls were into me. But at that time, given my absolute lack of social skills, I don't think I could have picked up on ANY hints from an interested girl, let alone subtle hints. Unless of course, she stripped naked in my bedroom and put up a sign near her cunt which said, "Insert here." Guys, you absolutely need social skills. That is what game means to me. Game means social skills. So when a bunch of guys say that game does not work, I want to ask, "You mean having social skills does not work?"


The Real benefit to learning Salsa
The thing about Salsa classes is that most women there are old and unattractive. This is a fact. But there are a always one or two in every class that are bang-able. And most of the girls are there to meet guys. Even the bang-able one. When I do a memory recall, with my present level of social skills, I could have banged 2-3 girls with a minimum effort. Maybe even girl-friended one of them. Also, the benefit in Salsa is not meeting girls in the class. The main benefit is when you meet a non-salsa dancing girl on a day2. You can always go Salsa Dancing on a day2. Most white guys cannot dance to save their lives. So a girl on a day2 is impressed if you take her dancing. Chances are she has no clue how to salsa. So you can be her master and guide her. Out there on the floor, you are the man. You are the one showing her the way, guiding her as she bumbles and stumbles, unsure of herself. It is a great way to get across the touch barrier and establish yourself as a guy who knows his way around the block.

Anyway, since I had been on welfare and had established a lay count in excess of 20, I started getting a little bored of the machine gun staccato approach situations. My mind craved some new scenarios. It was then that I decided to re-visit the whole Salsa thing. Why not go to some salsa class. The approach there is very low stress. Sure, it is inefficient. A whole hour and you will have one approach max. In an hour in Wal-mart or the mall or HEB, I could have opened a dozen sets. But the salsa situation is low stress. You can gauge if the girl is interested. You can tell plenty of jokes, have some fun etc. The low stress part appealed to me the most as you can tell.


Choosing a Studio
Choosing the studio was simple. You want a studio where
1. Quite a few young attractive girls visit. Not late thirties cougars
2. Has lots of classes every month: Spread your investments
3. An option exists to take as many classes as you want for a flat fee: Very good for someone like me who really has no other work apart from collecting government cheese. Works out very cheap per class

After a week of trial classes, I found such a class. They had about 20 classes a week and I could take as many as I wanted for a flat fee of $50 for the first month. After that it went up to $110/month. If I take every class, it works out real cheap per class. Here are the classes I took
1. Salsa beginner, Salsa intermediate, salsa Advanced (I was already an advanced dancer, remember? And advanced guys can take beginner's classes )
2. Tango beginner
3. Samba beginner
4. Lindy Hop beginner

Each group met twice a week. So that is 12 classes a week. Works out to less than a dollar a class. Am I putting the welfare money to good use or what? Those bums who spend all the government cheese on booze ought to learn from me. Those nerds who work 60 hours a week to pay their taxes should also learn from me. Showing every body a better way to live, that's me. Am I a visionary or what? Move over Tim Ferris. Make way for Lalitaditya Muktapida. I should probably write a book someday. But that might spark an investigation. So, on second thoughts, fuck that!


The Classes
 I spent the first week enjoying myself, flirting with all my dance partners, young or old, pretty or ugly, fat or thin. It is easy to smile, be good humored and be charming when you do not have constant deadlines to meet at work. Of course I lied through my teeth on being asked what I do. But hey, it only depends on what the meaning of "a lie" is, as a famous ex-president once taught me. So I probably told the truth all the time.

It did not take me too long to home in on the girls who were into me and who I would consider banging. There were three of them. And that month, I am glad to say I banged all three of them. It's really easy, you know. When a girl is into you, all you need to do is not be too weird and just keep moving the interaction forward. I suspect all those silly routines in game theory as popularized in the mystery method are mainly for girls who are not into you to begin with. I'm not saying it does not work. Just that it is a lot of effort and most guys are not up to it. I certainly am not. I like it kinda challenging, but not too challenging. Does that make sense?


The Afghan Girl
Of the three girls, I will focus on the Afghan Girl. Let's face it. Most lays are cookie cutter lays. They are so similar to the others that they hardly make a story worth remembering. And the girls themselves have no distinguishing qualities that will make you remember them. Neither were the sexual experiences anything more than plain vanilla sex. Nope, we only remember the novel experiences. Like the crazy girl. The girl with a kinky fetish. The dominant girl, the super hot girl etc. This girl was something like that.

For one, she was a 7 on the scale of 1-10 when it comes to her face. Given that most of my lays are 5s and 6s, this is a distinguishing feature. Her parents are both from Afghanistan. So there is the exotic factor, even though she herself is kinda Americanized. And there is the fact that she is Muslim ( a liberal muslim though, not the Taliban variety), giving us the slight danger factor. And here is the best part. She is submissive with a kinky fetish. She was the first submissive girl I ever did. And By God, it shook my nervous system in ways I could not have imagined. Guys, if you find a submissive girl, I say go for it. It just makes the sex so much more thrilling, it corrupts the mind, it adds the power dimension, it makes you feel like Caligula and Nero rolled into one. Try doing this with some escort, Stonerwithaboner!

continued in part-2

Monday, 11 February 2013

The Amazon - Part 4: Rape

continued from part-3

 My lips again started moving towards the gates of Heaven. Slowly. Deliberately. Kissing every spot. The shaking would again pick up. I'd stop at that spot till it came down. What is it about a woman's body? Every spot seems sensitive. And every spot evokes fresh feelings. It must have taken me a full 15 minutes to finally get to the entrance of her fortress. Once there, I decided to tease her. I just started kissing the area around her vaginal lips. She shook with anticipation. I continued kissing the area around. Her inner thighs, her crotch, her butt. Everything, but her lips of fire. She could take it no longer. She grabbed my head from the back with both her hands and pulled it till it pressed against her vaginal lips. Then she lifted both her massive legs and placed them on my shoulders. Then she interlaced her legs to so as to lock my head in place. She then rested her legs on my back. I now had my knees on the ground, my elbows were resting on her chair for support and the lips of my mouth were firmly pressed against her vaginal lips. 


Jesus Christ! Her thighs were wider than the length of my neck and face combined. And they were interlaced so as to lock my head. I could not turn my head. I could not move my body. I could not hear a thing as her rock hard thighs were pressed against my ears. I could not see a thing. All was darkness. All I could do was smell and feel the vaginal liquids oozing out of her glorious orifice. I kissed the orifice. I could feel her body shaking. I kissed again. Hard. Her body shook again. I brought out my tongue. I just pressed my tongue against her gates. I felt the pressure on my head increase. She tightened her legs. She started shaking violently again. More violent. Her chair swayed and she fell of the chair. I felt myself violently yanked to my right. Yanked by my neck. This is going to cost the government quite some money in medical expenses. Money that will come right out of her taxes. Serves her right, the bitch!


She fell to the ground. But would she unwrap her legs from my head? Not a chance. The sadistic bitch. She just continued to have her thighs wrapped around my head and neck, adjusted her position so that she was lying on the grass on her back. I was lying on the grass on my belly with my mouth still pressed against her vulva. God, it was uncomfortable. Her feet were placed on my back while her thighs were wrapped around my neck and head. Is this what they call a head-scissor? She kicked my butt with her heel. Probably to indicate that I should start using my tongue. God only knows, since I could not hear a thing. All I could hear was my own heartbeat and the sound of blood swirling in my head. I started kissing her vagina. I started licking it. I started doing the alphabet with my tongue. A, B C.....It was hard. The bitch applied so much pressure on my head that I did not have much mobility. But I soldiered on. Because that's what Pussy hounds do. Especially when they are on the Dole.

She saw what I was trying to do. She loosened the grip with her legs to permit me the mobility to do the alphabet. Thanks, Bitch! Thanks for the compassion and understanding. There was squeezing, there was shaking, there was her rolling over to her sides, there was excessive pressure applied to my skull followed by a relaxation of the pressure. At times I felt I would pass out. But did I complain? Nope! Did I ask for a break? Nope I carried on. Why? Because that's what pussy hounds do. BTW, did I fail to mention that her juices tasted like nectar. The nectar of immortality. But that was only a minor reason, as you are all aware.


I do not have much idea how long this went on. But by the time she released her legs, the sun had set. I saw her. Lying on her back. Her nightdress was wet with sweat. My t-shirt was drenched in sweat. Her face looked heavenwards. She was not looking at me. I forced my tongue into her vulva. "Unggghhh!" she cried, her back lifting off the ground. Ohhh! All that pleasure has weakened her. That is why she released the pressure on my head. She has no strength left. Her hands were placed on my bald pate, but there was no pressure. She just placed them there. I decided then and there to penetrate the bitch. I started kissing her on top of her clit. And then the lower abdomen and started moving upwards. She continued moaning but no resistance to what I was doing. I unzipped my jeans. I was just gonna have to fuck this bitch now.

 
I had condoms in my back pocket, but decided it would be too time consuming. It would be too kill-the-mood-ish. I was gonna raw-dog her NOW. As I was kissing her moving up, now to her lower abdomen, now to her belly button, now to her solar plexus, I also pulled out the cannon from my jeans. Heh! I too had no underwear. I proceeded upwards kissing her, now her chest, now her nipples, now her neck. Soon my cannon was in range of the door of her fortress. I would have to spear her now. With one hand I guided my submarine (Seawolf Class) into her cave. And I was IN. She just moaned. I wanted to kiss her lips, but was not tall enough to get there. She made no attempt to kiss me. She just wrapped her hands and legs around my back acquiescing to the invasion.Acquiescing to the penetration.


I thrust in and thrust out. Advanced and retreated. Pushed in and pulled out. In and out. Back and forth. Oh! It was heavenly. I started running the lyrics to Kanye West's Gold-digger in my head. She was moaning. And right to beat. I wanted to fuck her like this for hours. But I also wanted to blow my load into her. BAD. NOW. What Confusion. I felt a rumbling in my loins. Oh oh! Am gonna ejaculate. This is what happens when you don't concentrate, children. She could feel the rumbling too. Then the unexpected happens. She tightens her grip around me with her hands and legs. I try to pull out. I can't. She's too strong.

"Hey! I'm gonna come" I cry
"Ungggghhh!" She just moans.
"Let me go, bitch. You wanna get pregnant?"
"Unggghhh" she moans again.
"I have herpes, bitch"
"Unnngghhh"

I try to wriggle. I can't. God, she is very strong.
I decide to delay the inevitable. I concentrate hard on my breathing. Take away attention from my impending explosion. Focus on anything. Anything but the sexual feeling. I forget all but my breath. Hard. Oh! What's this, the ejaculation is no longer impeding. But I am still hard as a rock. Okay. This is good. Just wait for it to soften. I just chill. She too notices something wrong. Then slowly she tightens her grip around me with her legs and hands. And then she starts moving her body back and forth against my stationary cock. Damn! This bitch is sick.


She moves back and forth. Back and forth. She is humming to herself. Some stupid tune. She does not say a word. After 5 minutes of this, she is tiring. Hahaha! I have tantric control, cunt. Then she stops for a breather.
"Bitch, what are you doing. Let me go"

She just ignores me. She is ready for one final grand move. My cock still in her, She raises her back off the ground along with my body. I'm lying on top of her. And then she starts rotating her hips. Holy shit. I'm sunk. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna become a daddy. I try hard not to come. She starts humming again while rotating. She rotates, she shakes, she thrusts back and forth, she mixes it up. The pressure builds up. My loins start to rumble. She can feel it. She increases the pressure to her max. I feel the ribs in my back and midsection will crack. She moans, "Unggghhhh" almost guttural. My loins rumble again, I grip her tight, the waves rise and WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH. I come  hard inside her. Once, twice, thrice. Thrice in a period of 10 seconds. I'm spent. She has killed me. She laughs. I surrender. My hands and legs and body goes limp. Then she again tightens the pressure, rotates again to squeeze the last bits of man juice. Miraculously, I come again violently. She laughs again. For about half a minute. She is not done yet. Again she tightens the pressure and rotates her hips to squeeze out the last drops of semen. I come again and then I soften. That is her cue. She laughs. She loosens the pressure and lets me go. But I just lay limp on the floor. She has killed me. I am gonna be a father. I'm gonna pay her child support payments all her life. I'm depressed. I need to convince her to take the pill. No she would not do that. The bitch planned all this. I will have to slip the pill into her orange juice. But where will I get the pill? Do I need a prescription? Fuck! 

Then I remember, "Hell I'm unemployed. Been on welfare for a few months now. Have no cash. What child support payments can I possibly make? I'll just stay on welfare all my life" I feel relieved. Wait till the bitch figures this one out.

continued in part-5

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

The Amazon - Part 3: Escalation

Continued from part 2

The Logistics
I decided to use the time to prepare myself for the seduction. Logistics is the most unglamorous part of any seduction and consequently the most important. Somehow, that is just how God decided life must work. A few details

1. Picked up the right wine, Riesling as it goes good with curry chicken.
2. Marinated the chicken at my place with various spices. The cutting and cooking at her place must be a minimum. 15 minutes at max. Doing a low stress activity together relaxes the mood. But too long and it breaks the sexual tension. You need to maintain sexual tension in between a range. Too much and she is uncomfortable. Too little and she is bored.

Then when it was close to time, I put on my t-shirt, wrangler jeans, converse shoes, some deodorant, baking soda on my arm pits and headed for her place with the wine, and marinated chicken.



Her Place
Her place was in the outskirts of the city. There was plenty of privacy to be had there. All the houses had huge lawns and were all fenced to shoulder height. The lawns all had trees. Great place to have a barbecue. Great place to rest under the shade on a hammock on a hot summer afternoon. Great place to carry on a seduction.

She answered the door bell in her white night dress which went all the way down to her feet but had slits on both sides of her legs. Slits that went all the way up to her waist. So you could glimpse those muscular calves and thighs as she walked. Bare legs, now covered by the dress, now not. My heart was pounding. We hugged. God she was so fit. I am actually hard as I write this.

"Smells Delicious", She said
"Good, that will motivate you to cut those vegetables"
She laughs

We poured the wine into two wine glasses and proceeded to cut the vegetables while sipping the wine. We talked a bit about cuisine. She does not like cooking. She eats a lot of fruits, drinks a lot of raw milk, boiled vegetables, paleo diet, that sot of stuff. What she needs, she gets from Whole Foods. Indian Food is one of the few cravings that she indulges. We discuss spices and cuisine. I explain the medicinal properties of spices. She likes anything related to health. I cut the onions while she cuts the tomatoes, the ginger, the coriander leaves. Never let her cut the onions. You don't want her eyes to water. It kills the mood. So my eyes were the ones watering. The things I do for women!

"You're crying" she says
"I always get emotional when I am about to eat meat"
 
I spanked her butt lightly with the back of my palm to congratulate her on the finesses with which she cut the tomatoes. She looked at me with raised eyebrows. But she did not look uncomfortable or displeased. Just surprised. Pleasantly surprised, I like to think. In 15 minutes, the vegetables were cut, sauteed and mixed with the chicken. The chicken and vegetables were set on a slow boil. Should take about and hour and a half. Plenty of time for a stimulating conversation.

We went outside to her lawn and sat by on the chairs lying on the grass. We were seated opposite each other, facing each other with a small table in between to keep the wine glasses. We will be talking facing each other. Good. This is excellent for maintaining eye contact and building sexual tension. She sat on the chair and folded her legs placing one above the other. The front portion of her night dress fell to one side with the result that her bare legs were visible to the eye in all their toned, fit, muscular goodness.



 Conversation
 "Nice place you have here."
"Thanks, I like my privacy."
"You like your alone time, or is there a dungeon down here with guys locked up in chains?"
"You're a funny guy, Lalit", she laughed
"Oh! So there IS a dungeon."

Britt is quite an introspective girl. She seems to be into Yoga and meditation, my pet topics. Very interestingly, she used to be a theology major in school. Now I need to be careful not to get into an intense discussion with her. Better to keep this light and not talk anything philosophical.

"Your Gods are such Bad-asses with the discuss, the trident, the mace, the thunderbolt. Our poor God is so simple and docile and humble in comparison."

"We like our Gods macho. I mean all that peace, love, compassion is all fine, but nothing gets us as religious as beheading a couple scary looking bad guys. Hell, even our Goddesses do that. Ever heard of Kali and Durga?"

"Of course"

"Durga is my favorite. I mean a beautiful woman armed to the teeth. Which guy would not fall in love with her?"

"Hahahaha. Isn't India a male dominated society? Wouldn't they feel insecure with a powerful goddess going around beheading bad guys"

"Who knows these things, Britt? My ancestors come from a matriarchal society. And I was born and brought up here. So I do not know how they think. All I know is that Goddess Durga is Wow!"

"Hahahaha"


Rebuffed
Suddenly, she looked a little bit more serious. She looked me in the eye with a steady gaze and delivered the usual chick question,
"Do you do this to all girls, Lalit?"

I met her gaze, assumed a slightly quizzical, slightly amused expression on my face and asked innocently,
"Do what to all girls, Britt?"
"Approach them in malls?"

I paused a bit. Gently set my wine glass on the table. Then looking her in the eye, I asked,
"You really want to know?"
"Yes"

I got up, lifted my chair and set it closer to her chair, perpendicular to her chair. She looked amused. I sat on the chair and picked up my wine glass. Then again resuming eye contact, I placed the palm of my hand on her bare thigh. Her gaze left mine for just a moment to take notice of my palm on her thigh. She made no move to remove my palm. She again resumed eye contact.
" I only do this to tall and powerful Amazons, Britt."

Her look of amusement broadened into a smile. An amused smile. I could see she was enjoying this. I could feel something harden in my crotch. This looked like the moment to go for the kiss. I leaned in for the kiss slowly. She leaned back slightly. But the look on her face did not change. She still looked amused in a very serene manner. I leaned in further. Then she lifted her other leg (not the leg my palm was on) off the ground, brought it between her face and mine and then with the palm of her foot pressed my face back into my chair. I accepted defeat. I looked away. Having won the battle, she sipped her wine and looked to the sky.

"Your hips are very flexible", I said
"It has it's uses"

I noticed I was still hard. My attempts at kiss closes have been rebuffed before. But never in this manner. The novelty of the situation caused me to be quite aroused. I decided to enjoy this feeling of arousal. She too seemed to be aroused. She made no motion to get up from her chair or to tell me off. I too said nothing. You could cut the tension with a knife. She seemed quite different from the other girls I have had the pleasure to game. She seemed to enjoy silences and lulls in the conversation. She did not need a continuous stream of chatter to keep her occupied. After a minute or so, the tension seemed to be dissipating. Time to reopen the conversation.


Feelings
"So what do you do for fun, Britt?" I know. Pretty Banal. But at this point, after all this excitement. It hardly matters and it did not in this case either. After some fluff talk. I drove the conversations to her passions. She likes to go on hikes and one day hopes to work as a tour guide. Her favorite trip was Patagonia. Damn, this girl is adventurous and outdoorsy. Should I try some of that Ross Jeffries stuff?

"So, Britt! It seems that going on hike to gives you feelings that are a mixture of peace and excitement."

"Yeah" she said with a faraway look in her eyes. "I guess it's the open nature that does something to me." Long pause. Aah! She was reminiscing.

"You seem to be reminiscing," I said, deepening my voice.
"Oh Sorry. I was."
"No no! Keep reminiscing. I order you to reminisce now. I'll take you there right now"

She smiled. I continued
"When you reminisce, you feel a light sensation of melancholy and longing in your heart."

She nodded slowly still with that faraway look in her eyes. This girl is begging to be seduced.

"But it is a good longing. You like the freedom of the open terrain. You do not like to be tied down. You are like the river. Always flowing. Always in motion."

She nodded. She gripped her glass a little more tightly. She smiled serenely. She did not look at me. I put my hand around her back. My fingers were lightly wrapped around her shoulder. God her delts are hard. I think I can escalate. She cannot be scared of me. She can kick my ass. Of all things, safety should not be her concern. I consider the advantage of gaming women stronger than me in the future. With safety taken care of, I can be as aggressive as I want. No need for calibration. This is awesome. I go on the offensive.

"Your feelings too are like that river."

She nodded weakly.

"They refuse to be tied down. They refuse to be confined to your heart. They start flowing from your heart down to the abdomen. Your abdomen is filling up with this feeling of longing."

She just made a sound indicating acquiescence. I like to think this sound was a moan. She did not nod. She is getting weaker.   

"Your abdomen is filling up.....filling up. Now it is overflowing and the feeling is spilling on to your lower regions."

I took my hand and placed it at the place where her legs meet her body.

"They have flowed this low. They have enveloped your butt, your hips and they are flowing into your thighs."

She closed her eyes. But still looking straight. She was not facing me either with her head or her body. I decided against kissing her on her lips. But kiss her I would. Sitting down on the chair, I bent down and brought my lips in contact with her bare thigh. She inhaled sharply. I kept my lips in contact with her bare thigh. Just like that. Slowly she started exhaling. Keeping my lips in contact with her thigh, I slowly got off my chair and knelt on the ground on my knees. I waited for her exhalation to complete. Once her exhalation was complete, I kissed her on the spot making the smooching sound. She moaned and inhaled again sharply. Her body tensed up. I kept my lips on the same spot on her thigh. Again I waited for her exhalation to complete. And kissed her again. She inhaled again. I continued  this process till her reactions to this became less sharp. She was now used to this. She does not feel them this intensely now. Time to move.

I removed my lips off her thigh and then again placed them on her kneecaps. I smooched her knee caps. Her leg involuntarily flexed. She moaned again. She closed her eyes. Mind you, her legs were still folded. I then moved down and slowly, tenderly started kissing every spot on her calves. She started moaning. After a minute or so, she unfolded her legs. Both her legs were now on the ground. I parted her legs and looked at the glory of her vaginal lips for the first time. She had no underwear on. She was shaved clean. Clean! This girl wanted Sex right from the start. I DID catch her at that time of the month. I wanted to make a rush for her vaj right away. But decided against it. I decided to proceed slowly. I kissed her inner thigh near the knee cap and started moving inside towards her Vagina. Her thighs started Shaking. A little at first and then more violently. I stopped at one spot. Her thighs continued shaking violently. She seemed to be crying. Slowly, after a couple minutes, the shaking became less intense. I felt a hand on my head. Her hand. It rested on my head. She moved the palm over my bald head. "Oh Lalit!", she cried

continued in part-4