My body is an erotic poem, a broken garden of tears. The libido has been fabled into amorous lullabies, sonatas of a sighing Beethoven sighing on a piano. I live in the garden of bewitched desires. My nights have been a lonely bed. I am a lover’s slave. I will reincarnate to her passions in loving desires. I long to lick her flower. I love to be in a submissive position. I am kneeling down with her thighs straddled on to my shoulders. As I lick her melodious orifice, I long to hear her moan. Her moaning will give me thousand poems. Yes, I long to lick her passionate hole, lying in her bottom. My tongue is an infinite orgiastic pansy of cunnilingualizing. Woman, why are you hard hearted like a burning ore in a furnace? Why don’t you agree to the incantations of my passion? Women of the world why do you make me so deprived? I wonder why there’s not a single woman in the world who can love me for satisfying her body. Why am I not finding a perfect woman? I have tried and tried countless dating sites, but the end result was sour grapes!
By the time I was in the fifth grade, I was already initiated to the fountain of lustful pleasures. During those days there was no internet, no CD players. Of course there were video cassettes.
My acquaintance with pornography happened with the friendship of a neighbor mechanic. He used to supply me with porn magazines which carried sleazy, lewd photos of women and also graphic narratives. Most of these magazines were in vernacular Malayalam.
Yes my sexuality …I did not have the maturity understand, but nonetheless was awakened. I used to keep these magazines hidden in my chest of drawers containing my school books.
Yes when I used to look at the nude women, mostly sluts with enlarged breasts, with salaciously jutting out black nipples, with the mount of Venus in between sensuous thighs…Oh my groin became a trembling petal caressed by the torment of an angry storm. I really didn’t know what was happening to me? I used to masturbate, putting a lot of pressure on my phallus like a marching army … During this time I was plagued with sin and guilt.
I used to love the way the narratives used show me how hungry hands stroke and fondle a woman. As I grasped her in wanton lust, I squeezed her melon breasts and her enlarged black nipples…From there I wander like a man possessed to her rounded skyscraper, her luscious buttocks…by the time she was stroking me ….harder, muttering, moaning in pleasure….and then she knelt down and was a nymphomaniac sucking me ……I was so overcome with the oasis of passion and I mounted her…She spread her buxom thighs across and inserted mine into hers with a vigor of a flooded river….I cannot wait any longer….I play with mine and funnel like a cyclone into her fleshy orifice and explode like the waves of the Arabian Ocean…..
It was only when I became middle aged; I was able to use the internet for pornography…. Far from the desire for capturing the sacred and secret feminine by machine like thrusts and disseminating liquid pearls and then lying dead, my mental orientations shifted to the gaze of lesbian rituals…. Till today I wonder how those women mainly from the Occident are able to act so well in front of a gazing camera. Do they drug themselves? Or is it natural. Or is it merely a profession.
I have also come to realize than a woman’s body is so different from mine and its source of pleasure is multifarious. The zones of erogenous stimulation are many. I get a hard on by watching lesbians in foreplay and I become so excited when they devour each other’s lips and tasting the magic of molten lava.
I also wonder in the transition of my thought to pleasures of being fulfilled as a lesbian voyeur. Why I am becoming effeminate….? Is it natural….. Instead of being a guilt ridden dodo, I have come to accept my sexuality and its gratifications of being in multiplicity. I also long to have genuine women companions who are willing to have lesbian orgy in front of my feasting eyes and gratifying my surreal longings of being a gazer.