I thought I'd pay a tribute to these highly underrated, extremely sexy women.
Founded by Samir Saraiya, That's Personal is an ecommerce venture for intimate, personal and fun products for the Indian consumer. Think Sex, Laughs and Luxury.
Between the gasps and pants, their tired bodies resting – shivering, the beast struck again.
As she adjusts her position on the bed, she feels the gentle grazing of her flaccid nipples against her thin cotton t-shirt.
This is the second of a three part series by prolific author Ancilla Liberatio. Read Part 1 here.
She began to probe, began to question and I prepared myself …
"I am more than a person, I'm a soul and so are you, our path is eternal but it isn't identical, we may meet again but we will never be us again, mourn my loss my damaged angel, as I shall mourn yours."
I knew her inside out like an addictive YouTube video. Intimacy meant 5 Mbps and a great date was a call that didn’t drop. When I kissed her, she saw …
Enter the dark corridors, filled with masculinity, men with hard-ons, semi-erections, fucked-up arses, lubed-up arses, rubbered dicks, noses sniffing poppers and other addictive substances, slippery warm penises entering raging intestines and mouths, hands groping all over the place - nipples, butts, muscles, hair, mouths, feet, balls, name it, you have it.
Bangalore, the beginning of winter. The days are shorter, the monsoon leaves its last spells of wet love on every roof, tree and head covered with dense hair. A chilly …
Franco rolls an 8mm camera as we’re flying up the same tangled, winding hills that the real Hopper and the real Wood sped on the night of their famous accident. Franco commands the girls to take their shirts off. They giggle and strip. Dean sparks a butt in the back with his tits out. The wind slaps hard on our faces. We snake up the road, way too fucking fast.
I thought of the afternoon to come, no the evening that was to follow. Diego and the rest of the boys at Rustom’s party.
Diego said he’d come dressed in …
Surf my couch, or my crotch?
“You’ve got a big dick”, said Leo as he slurped on my tool, my Salman Khan as he termed it Bollywood Ishtyle. …
It had been weeks since Dee last got off. As she lay there in her bed, she looked at the clock her ex had given her. It was 9 in …
Neha dreamt she was flying.
Rika slept beside her, spooned up close, her body snug against that of her beloved’s. It was the end of what had been a long …
On dreary winter nights, movies billed as ‘psychological thrillers’ are probably not the cheery fare I am looking for but having heard rave reviews about Black Swan, a few nights ago my sister and I ambled along into the theatre that was packed with people. I assure you - a packed theatre is a considerably rare occurrence out here. So after squeezing into 2 seats together padded by our parka jackets, we settled in for the ride. And my! What a ride it was!
6 pm …A cold winter evening in Chicago after a sufficiently bad day, I venture to the Gene Siskel Film Center to watch Room in Rome (Habitación en Roma) Upon entering the stark white and clean environs of the film center, I acquaint myself with some popcorn and a glass of wine [clearly I was intent on making my day better] I shuffle my tired feet into the theatre and suddenly, stop and stare.
I have read a bit of Sister Toldja’s rad sex column and sex advice but she mostly just compares black women’s sex lives to white women’s, and obviously that racial binary is not all-encompassing.
So, as QC has mentioned before, us desis can get a little hush-hush when it comes to mas-tur-bay-shun. And I can personally attest to this because this lack of open-communication about sex within the desi community has definitely affected my sex life, especially with my experience with a woman. Plus, I didn’t have my first orgasm until I was 19, and maybe that is not shocking but my white friends definitely thought it was!
We were pressed against each other. Her back to my front. My nipples hard against her feverishly hot skin. I held her as she lay against me in my arms, my legs spreading hers open to allow me access to her wetness. Arching in the pleasure I was giving her. I was angry. I needed her with an intensity that I believed was the only emotion that would satiate an indescribable feeling of irritation and lust I felt for the woman I was fucking.
Finally, a midnight shower
in the candlelight
No residue left
Of you and me
Making a memory
Now the steam …