Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Dear Eternal

I remember I saw you the first time in a Youtube video. Just another celebrity crush I guess. I obsessed about you. I obsessed about going to Tihar and fantasized about meeting you as your lawyer. To see deep into your eyes, feel your (supposed) pain and touch you while quoting obscure penal sections on sedition. I imagined your deep husky voice wrapping me.

After that my regular visits to JNU (Jawaharlal Nehru University) became……sexual visits to JNU. Random streets for me started acquiring intimacy. Silly administrative block steps became potential PDA spots. One afternoon, I finally saw you. I saw you lying down on a sofa, with your head on your girlfriend’s lap and I recalled countless boys I had fantasized about before and how their girlfriends were always the Komolika to my Kausauti Zindagi Ki. You casually looked up, saw me for one second and continued on with your life.

The moment I left the room, I imagined how you would leave the room. You would think who that boy was, why he left you with a sense of familiarity, that you wanted to feel that familiarity by calling out to me, by touching my hand…. That was the day when I finally got interested in JNU politics. I started looking for sexual undertones in every slogan of yours. I started noting the difference of the tone of your voice whenever you said ‘hum kya chahte’, never mind what came after that.

The second time I saw you was in your hostel. You didn’t notice me this time. My eyes followed you around the room. Funny thing about standing out because of your sexuality is that even though people see you, they unsee you. They avoid your eyes. They don’t look into you the way you look into them. You didn’t care. I had to pretend that I was there for the cause and not for you. I had to appear confident when you asked for donation for your party.

Over the years, it has become so easy to look for familiarity in strangers. It has become so easy to fall in love with strangers. To have a parallel world running inside me, solely motivated by my desires for you. Where you will love me, touch me, fuck me….not reject me. The next time you noticed me, you saw me. Not for me, but for the way I looked. You had that smile. The smile I saw on countless boys in school and college and continue to see on strangers in metro, streets. The smile which makes me look away. The smile which tells me that I don’t belong here. The smile which tells me that I should be made fun of. I pretended that I didn’t notice. While walking away I imagined you standing up for me in front of your friends. I imagined you running behind me, tapping me on my back, and I turn and you say ‘aapko yahan maine pehle bhi dekha hai’. I smile and I say no and I walk away. I leave you wanting more.

I came close to you in another rally. I was drunk. I walked close to you. I subtly leaned forward and smelled you. God! You smelled better than I thought you would. I could taste the heaviness of your sweat. I could feel the fabric of your kurta touching your skin. I saw your sweat covering your back. I saw those droplets shaped like someone had scratched your back in a moment of ecstasy. I followed you the entire rally.

I felt good. No, really I did. This time I didn’t run any scenarios through my head. This time I walked away, thinking about the smell of your sweat.

Just that.
.
.
.
I only imagined you falling in love. I only imagined my non-familiarity to your love.       

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Re-living Illusions

Since past few weeks I have been meaning to write a post about a problem of mine but something else happened and I am writing this now. If you have been kind (and patient) enough to read through this blog (I salute your decision to not throw away your laptop/computer screens), in the previous post I wrote about my first sexual experience with another person. Recently (let's call him) hook and I got in touch on facebook (translation: after stalking him repeatedly over days and sending him a friend request and then devising stupid ways to initiate a conversation with him) and started talking. He said that he has shifted to the same city as me and perhaps we should catch up sometime. Obviously, I said yes. Didn't even wait for him to finish the damn sentence before typing in YAAAS BITCH YAAAAAAASS. 

Now, the last time I saw him was when I was in 9th grade. It has been 9 years since then. I think it wouldn't be honest of me to tell you, dear reader, that I handle my desires quite well. I do not. I am a fool. An absolute fool. And I fucking love it. Obviously I started imagining how our meet would go. I remembered how it would feel to touch his dick again. To see into those dark brown eyes again. At the time I had touched him (jeez this sounds really creepy but it was consensual, so please don't judge), all I did was just THAT, you know, touch him. But never really 'touched' him. To run my fingers through his hair, to feel his collarbones, to circle his nipples with the tip of my fingernails. Like how Vidya Balan says in the movie Dirty Picture "mujhe touch to bahuton ne kiya hai....par chuha kisi ne nahi" (I have been felt by many...but never intimately touched by any), I wanted (still want) to feel the heat of his dick and balls and not just frantically touch them as we did in the classroom. 

It's funny how I like to imagine that I have become this mature person who can deal with illusions and make-believe scenarios (about my infatuations and love) which are not going to lead me anywhere. Lolz. No. I thrive on them and will continue to do so. 

We decided to meet at a metro station. I waited very nervously for him and kept fidgeting with my phone. A friend called me for some help and I cut her off and started describing why this was such a nervous moment in a very rushed voice. Suddenly he came from behind and brushed his hand against my hair. Fuck. He has grown taller. His beard looks so good. I want to feel his beard. I want to put flowers in them and pluck them out with my teeth while my hands hold his hair at the back of his head. His eyes are SO FUCKING BROWN. GOD! God damnit! Fuck my life. I fall for him all over again. We start making conversation. He tells me why he has shifted to this city. He talks about his college and old jobs. I talk about my college and old jobs. He casually mentions his girlfriend. He has been with her since 5 years. I mention my boyfriend (in my head I say, 'sorry bruh I don't mind cheating on you with this one'). He smiles. I blush (which hopefully he doesn't notice). He talks about his beard. I talk about his beard. His shirt is three buttons open. I stare at his chest when he is not looking in my direction while smoking. Fuck, that chest hair. I recall how in 9th grade he only had hair around his nipples. He showed it to me once when the white sweaty shirt stuck to his body after playing in the heat. I had teased him by playfully grabbing his nipples then. I want to touch his chest now. I want my face to feel his torso. I want my tongue to taste his torso. I want to see those nipples again. He mentions how he wants to wax his chest hair. I take that chance and comment on his hair length and touch the hair on his arms for proof. Fuck, his hair feels so soft. I want to touch them again but the conversation has moved on.  

I keep getting the faint smell of his sweat. I notice how his beard keeps brushing his upper lip. I want to feel those lips. I want his cigarette breath on my lips. I wonder at how broody he has become. His eyes look pained. Or I am just imagining this nonsense because I listen to Lana Del Rey too much. He smiles and nods when I talk about my general frustration with life. I ask him if he wants to come back to my place. He agrees. We enter my room. I tell him to relax and take his shoes off. His smell becomes more prominent in the closed room. My heartbeat increases. He takes his shoes off and comes on the bed. We talk about this and that. 

I don't make a move on him. I know I can't. I just control my fingers from touching his. I stare at his shirt, at the angles they are hugging his body. I want to open the zip of his pants and touch his dick. To feel the warmth of it in my mouth and taste the sweat. I want to look into his brown eyes and argh! Look at me! I am fucking romanticizing every stupid minute with him. We just met, talked and he left. I am really confused at myself. What has running behind 'straight' boys gotten anybody any good in life? But some part of me wants to feel that rush again. The rush which I used to feel in high school. I over-analyze everything. For instance, me telling a story about another friend of mine who hooked up with a boy for the first time and was very confused about his sexuality and the hook replying 'It's just who you are in that moment you know....what has sexuality got to do with it'. And in my head I just go like 'FAAACCKKKK THIS BOY JUST SIMPLY STATED THE QUEER THEORY. PLEASE MAKE HIM FUCK THE QUEER OUT OF ME'

Really. Why the fuck am I doing this. This post is literally my wishful over-analysis of his every movement. But lord those eyes! Those lips! That beard! That ear stud! FAAACCCKKKKK. I have played different situations of us meeting again countless times in my head. And each and every situation has ended with him naked in bed with me. Sadly, like every sexual situation in my head - they never come true. I don't know if all this is because he was the first guy I ever had anything sexual with. Like there is something unfinished. Do I want it to finish? Where do I even fucking begin! 

Now I feel like texting him. Ugh. To want to meet him again. 

To have that awful hope again. That stupid hope which the introvert me in school used to survive on. And this is making me read Twilight again. Disgusting. 

I am going to jack off looking at his pictures now.

FUCK MY LIFE. 

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Unfinished Love Affairs

Recently a friend of mine just stopped talking to me. And we know in this day and age, not talking is just not limited to literally NOT TALKING. It also means cutting you off on Whatsapp, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat (Yes, I use ALL these). Reason? I don't know. I am guessing it's because he got engaged? Another reason? He's not out about his sexuality? Another reason? We have fucked a lot? Another reason? He's had his tongue inside my ass a lot of times? Last time I met him was a couple of months ago. Now, I know you'll say what kind of hoe I am that I strut around the town with my friends licking my ass but let me just clarify that I don't do boundaries. (Lolz) I sometimes hook up with my friends and so far both (or more) parties are mature enough to not ruin the friendship. 

But I am beginning to realize that maybe it is fucking things up. I met this guy almost 2 and a half years back. In a different city. We went out on a date. The date was amazing. We held hands in the car while he was driving. Had coffee. Talked and talked and talked. I was going to leave the city the day after that. The date went so good that we decided to meet again. The next day we roamed around a bit and went over to his place. He has the most amazing body that I have seen. His nipples are so adequately sized that I couldn't get enough of them. I played with them. Ate them. Nibble on them. Licked them. Feasted on them. And his dick. His FUCKING GORGEOUS dick. A true 9 inch dick. Not the stupid size which everybody on Grindr and Planetromeo claims to be (but let's be real ladies, we all know it's only 5 inches with them) but the REAL NINE FUCKING INCHES. In your life, there are some dicks that you come across, who teach you the real meaning of what giving a blowjob means. His was one of those dicks. It tasted good. It smelled good. And the fact that it did not fit in my mouth made me want to try to fit it in my mouth even more. I twisted my tongue around his thick cock and relished the way his waist would shift by the motion of my tongue. I would slide down the skin of his uncircumcised dick with the tip of my tongue and his dick wet inside my mouth would willingly comply. Lord, I wanted that dick. Not only did I lick every inch of his dick but also tasted his strong muscled body. (Now, please don't think I am biased towards those kind of bodies, I like all kinds) And then when we went down on me. FUCK. You know that feeling when in harsh winters, you come home after a long day, take a warm bath and then get into your nice quilt on the bed and just curl up with your head against the pillow and your body temperature just screams out in pleasure. When my dick entered his mouth, it felt like that. My whole body temperature reacted to his warm mouth swallowing my dick deep down his throat. And when I looked down with my legs up in the air and half wrapped around his back and him sucking on to my dick and supporting himself up like he was doing push-ups, my fucking lord, I think then I pre-came even more than I fucking came (later). But wait it is obviously not over yet. Now, a disclaimer. I don't think I have mentioned this before but I do NOT like rimming. I enjoyed them once in my life. But then I saw the Human Centipede movies and it has ruined me for the rest of my life. I can NEVER give rim jobs because of that movie. FUCKING FUCK THAT MOVIE.

Now, trying to get that hard on that I just lost by talking about this movie. Why did I give this disclaimer you ask? Because after he just sucked the soul out of my dick, he proceeded to lift up my legs to give me a rim job. I got super nervous. That movie had fucked me up. Very disturbing images came to my mind. And not surprisingly I lost my erection. He simply asked me 'are you clean?'. I said of course I am. I honestly do NOT know how for half of the people in this world potty is complete without washing it with water. The very idea of only using toilet paper and nothing else disgusts me. It is disgusting. Did I mention that it is absolutely disgusting? Ok, this post is taking a turn. Anyway, back to my point. He proceeded to lick my asshole. And OH MY FUCKING GAGA. I felt things which I never thought I would feel. I did not think my asshole could make me feel that way. I developed a whole new relationship with my asshole that day my friends. And it was this boy's tongue which helped me establish that connection with my asshole. The way his tongue slid in and out of my hole, my dick instantly responded and started regaining that lost glory. He kept moaning while licking my ass and that sight made me moan as well. He kept pushing his tongue inside and I grabbed his hair and pulled. I didn't want him to stop. GOD.FUCKING.DAMN. No man after him has ever eaten my ass like that. We didn't do penetration because he didn't like bottoming and his dick size would have destroyed my ass (even though he made it feel all giggly and slutty).

Fortunately, this was not the only time we hooked up. Whenever I would be in town, we would meet, have very good conversations, eat out and hook up. He is not out to his parents and is a very family person. Always knew that he was going to get his parents find a girl for him and was perfectly fine with it. But that didn't bother me. Because I thought we had reached that level of comfort where we would remain friends. Sex at that point did not matter. It was incredible if it happened. Coincidentally, every time I would come with him, my height of my cum-shot would always break its previous record and his cum ALWAYS would end up in my eyes (which fucking burns like HELL). It is hard to summarize years long moments in few paragraphs but I would still say that he is a great person and very fun to be around. But after he got engaged and cut me off, I have started to realize that I don't think I have the capacity to keep up with mixing my sexual desires within my friendships. Evidently they are not working out. Or the capacity to have to deal with these rejections. Rejections on Grindr are so much easier to deal with. Atleast there is no connection there. 

Another friend who has a steady boyfriend and is in a monogamous relationship has hooked up with me a couple of times. Obviously he has chosen not to tell his boyfriend, and who am I to interfere with that decision. I got to mouth fuck him couple of times and the way he lifts his legs to let my dick slide inside him and hungrily sucks my dick makes me question his 'pure top' role with his boyfriend. But recently he cut me out as well. No reason, no message, no reply. Just like that.

All these instances brought back some memories. I wouldn't say that I don't think about my first sexual experience often. But these instances somehow just forced me to re-live them again. I think I have spoken about it before but only in passing. The first time I touched a dick other than mine was in 9th grade. A boy who used to sit with me had the most gorgeous beard. (come to think of it in 9th fucking grade. Little early for that, don't you think?) I don't really recall how exactly we came around to touching each other's dick. But I was pretty out about being non-hetero with him. And we would casually flirt with each other. One day, we came around to describing each other's dick shape and sizes to each other and he told me that his is a little oddly shaped. Out of curiosity (and obviously out of the fact that I have ALWAYS been hungry for dicks), I jokingly asked him if he could show it to me. Oddly, he said yes. I touched it. Obviously with his pants on. (All this was happening in full class by the way.  But we would have our bags surround us so no one would notice and honestly didn't really care enough if someone did). After few days I asked if I could open the zip of his pants and touch his dick and feel it in my hands. Oddly, he said yes...again. And then after that I had those glorious days where each day I would look forward to going school just so that I could hold his dick in my hands. To gently squeeze his hard dick and feel that oddly shaped cock against the palm of my hand. To feel that thrill of both of us holding each other's dick and caressing it while the teacher would be teaching the entire class with both of us trying to keep a straight face. I would sometimes on purpose raise my hand and ask doubts in class just to make him more nervous and feel proud of doing whatever I was doing in open class. (Bless my good friend who also used to sit with us. He always used to cover us up with his school bag too and never took part in it. He is still a very close friend of mine. I guess some people ARE 'straight' straight) After a while, I gave the first blowjob of my life. Again in a full class, at the last bench. In Mathematics class, Statistics...if I am not wrong....

His dad transferred after 9th grade, I left the city after 10th grade. We lost touch. He stopped responding to my messages in 11th grade. Unfriended me on Facebook. Blocked me later. Yesterday, I asked that same friend (the other guy who sat with us) if I could stalk him from his Facebook account and the amazing friend that he is, he readily complied. I stared at his photographs for a good one hour. Oh god, that beard is even more splendid now. Those brown eyes even more brown. He looks all athletic now. There is a girlfriend I see. They are hugging each other in almost every photo. Fucking couples. Fucking annoying. But look at those arms. Is that a bulge I see in those pants in another photo? I recall that we named his dick 'hook' because of its shape. It must be bigger now. I imagine our friendship cultivating instead of ending. I imagine making him meet my current boyfriend. I imagine shaking hands with his girlfriend and simultaneously sharing a mischievous look with him. I imagine a lot of other things. I imagine that touch...of his dick.... I imagine how glorious his dick felt in my mouth. The first time I had ever taken a dick in my mouth and feeling like I want to do it again and again...and again.

I know that 'that straight boy' is a common narrative for a lot of gay men. Some one who we all have infatuated. And continue to lust after. But what bothers me most is the abruptness to all these moments. The feeling that I could never even reach the peak of my sexual desires with them. To let my body loose with them. And all that HISTORY. That goddamn history with these stupid boys. FAAACCCK. Argh! I wasn't even sure if I wanted to call it 'unfinished'. What do I call something which never got the chance to finish but didn't really start off as something substantial too? 

Anyway, for now, I am just dealing (or not dealing) with this abruptness with these affairs.
.
.
.
Ah shit. I just sent the hook friend request on Facebook.
.
.
.
Fuck my life. 


Thursday, April 28, 2016

Power of talking about Sex

I am now writing my first post of 2016! Sorry for taking 4 months since writing my last post. I was going through a terrible job crisis (which I have now quit and feel incredibly happy about, so yay!) and was just not in the mood to write anything. 

First of all, I don't know if I have mentioned this before or not but I am not anonymous anymore about DUG (Ugh, short form of my blog doesn't sound too cool, does it?). I have linked my instagram profile and twitter account to this blog. So I thought I would link both of those here as well.

Second of all, it's been more than 5 years since I started writing this blog bitches! I am not ashamed of admitting that I had started writing my diary after watching the first episode of first season of The Vampire Diaries (yes, very lame but I am still watching the show and it has become very very painful) AND that I started writing this blog after watching Sex and the City (too bad I don't have fucking amazing deals like Carry did with Vogue and New York Observer but hey! It's about just writing right. Right?). In between those 5 years, I finished high school, got into law school, finished college, got my first job and now quit my first job! In my first ever post, I wrote about how I am going to write about my 'journey to find true love or a boyfriend' (lolz) and fortunately my goals in life have changed but I am happy to have found love, not just through boyfriend but through so many wonderful people in my life (family, friends blah blah blah). 

Now, before making this post sound like I am giving some yuck award acceptance speech, let us begin talking about what I want to write about (weird that I keep switching between 'talk' and 'write'). I absolutely love writing about my own experiences, I often don't talk about many and just keep filtering them out but that's exactly the problem that I am facing now. EVERYTHING that I go through (mostly sexually), I start obsessing over how I am going to write about it. It's not like I go actively seek out experiences in life just so I could write about it (nothing wrong with that also) but I don't want the anxiety of writing hovering constantly while I put a dick in my mouth! 

Another thing that has been bothering me a little is one comment I received about this blog. So, whenever I talk to people about DUG (ugh, STILL doesn't sound cool. It sounds like a lame Pokemon move), I always introduce it as a 'sex blog'. Yes, yes it's not just about sex, it's mostly me whining about my life but still, I particularly take pride in the fact that I don't shy away talking about sex the way it is. Because I have 100% without fail always been disappointed by gay erotica, no matter how explicit it claims to be, always falls short of talking about sex, fucking penetration the way it is! With the danger of you feeling like you are going to shit anytime, or how when your dick goes completely inside the butt-hole, there's this tingly feeling at the tip and also the nagging feeling to pee. The comment was that this blog doesn't really talk about sex a lot. Like it's just there, incidental to other things that happen in one's life. And I pretended to be nonchalant infront of that person, but I was deeply offended. Is there any right way to talk about sex? Or is there a need to have enough sex for a blog for it to qualify as a sex blog? Because the other comment I received was, "well from your blog it doesn't seem like you have THAT much sex". I was offended by this comment as well. Not because I need validation in life by having sex with n no. of people (ew what the fuck, what am I? In High school?) but because I never intended to write here to talk about sex with boys/men/studs/Henry Cavill (sigh. someday.), I want to write about what it felt to have sex with them. LOT of different there guys. So in case you are looking for sexual adventures, this is not the blog for you, THIS ONE is (seriously..check it out...it's gooooood).

I was also thinking about perhaps, changing the way I write here. You know, I was just going through this article about coming out stories in India, and I was just so thoroughly displeased by one of them. I became a super judgemental devil and dismissed someone's experience by saying how it shows no reflection and how it has no depth. And then in the next minute I though, 'Dafuq is wrong with me!'. I am no one to define how people feel about their moments of coming out, the way they live their lives and define it in their own ways. Similarly, I am just going to continue writing whatever comes to my mind here. 

Sorry people, I started out writing this post thinking that I would talk about penetration and the power of it but instead ended up writing about generally talking about sex here. Just needed to clear my mind about that one. I think I also need to admit that I need to stop looking for that ground-breaking moment or stop giving so much importance to this blog in the sense that it is rare for someone to write about sex and life and not just write it in a very monolithic narrow way. It's ok. It's just an ordinary blog. I think I needed to say this to myself more than to you reader.

So anyway! I hope you would still continue coming back here. I shall not take such a long break now (who, am I kidding? I suck at keeping promises). Here, the moment which inspired me to write my diary from Vampire Diaries (lolz, again)