Yesterday as the Olympic torch made it’s way through Moscow, on it’s four-month journey before reaching Sochi, the flame on the torch blew out.
Archive for the tag Brutally Honest
I tried a lot to get myself to talk to you in person but I failed in courage and guts. I’m 25 and I feel I’m living a lie.
Twas like a rush of adrenaline, the way we met
Dark lights, loud music, tipsy minds and a rushed kiss
Your eyes captivated me that Thursday night
And when we kissed, I just wanted more of you
Craving for each other day and night, led not only to checking our phones every two minutes fo obvious reasons, but it also affected our health.
Let’s say my name is Tanya. I’m bisexual. At least that’s what I like to believe. It gives me a little scope to be straight when I want.
Rahul remembered the exact second they started. Not always did he keep a count (to pick up the best one on an anniversary or a birthday to excite and at its worst, as weapons for the arguments and fights).
……. in human sexual behaviour, is the practice of casual sex with multiple sexual partners.
Yesterday at Dirty Talk 5.0 – Nothing Dirty About It! I was taken back to the day I looked at my body, and could appreciate it… the day, I could …
I turned 33 this year. I live in a touristy-hill-station-y town. In the Hindi movies we, folks of this town, go to school quite late.
Between the gasps and pants, their tired bodies resting – shivering, the beast struck again.
I did not come out to myself till seven years ago. Like countless others who’ve faced a lot of discrimination while growing up, I don’t have a story to tell.
In sessions of adult amusements and private passions.
In a never before musical,
Dancing in patterns to unknown moves.
This was during the times I was still in hiding. From myself, mostly.
DAY 1 – INTRODUCTION
Hey! You here?
Hey!!! You’re online!
Yeah…logged on for some work. Saw you online. Thought I should ping and say hi.
It is love.
What I have felt for almost seven years now.
Love that I have for a man. Gay love.
Fair warning folks: this post is going to be as clichéd as the title and is about nothing that one hasn’t read before.
I have no story.
Don’t get me wrong. My life isn’t boring at all.
Forgive me if you please, but I just cannot relate.
What makes us fall prey to the doormat syndrome? What makes us easy prey to be walked all over?
Wimbledon this year was the greatest disappointment to me.
The following is an extract from a letter the writer sent his mother.