Thursday, September 29, 2016

dem biches b cray: a short story

(NOTE: This is fit for 16+ readers. As in, people over 16 years in age, not 16 people in total. It's sad and funny because that is most likely the size of my readership lol.)

1.

I define myself as 'sapiosexual', which means someone who is sexually attracted to intelligence.

At some point in adolescence, many youngsters simultaneously discover a pseudo-intellectual fondness for things that sound deep but really are not. Words like 'petrichor' and 'wanderlust' and 'schadenfreude' catch our collective imaginations like 'le me' memes and pinterest feeds. These short lived trends come and go out of fashion before you can complete this sentence in your head. Nvm.

But sapiosexual has stuck to me. It feels like it was included in the English language just for me. The hot girls in school - the ones with bouncy assets, supple waists and simple minds - held me in no thrall. Or perhaps I resisted my carnal urges to appear holier than thou in my own eyes - holier than myself, lol.

I have been in the best of romantic relationships with my long time girlfriend, Sonal. She's hardworking and sincere but a little fragile emotionally. She isn't the bearer of a very pleasant face and is more or less shapeless, especially at the seams, but guess what, she is not lacking in the grey matter department. When I fuck her, the grunts of intelligence and wisdom fall like music to my ears. We are both clumsy in bed, we are both hairy and flabby, and we are fucking perfect for each other. Like totes.

I cannot say the same for my best friend, Abhishek and his girlfriend Maya. See, Maya is the kind of made-for-instagram girl who poses in all her top-angle, cleavage-showing, pout face-flaunting glory in every photo. She's sexy and she knows it, and shoves it down everyone's timeline like the dicks down her throat. Wordplay ftw.

So she's what many call 'plastic bitch', but I know better because I call myself a feminist and must live up to the tag. As a practicing online feminist, I cannot use a derogatory term for women that likens them to mongrels or objects. But I know she is very much a bitch and a plastic one at that, because she's about as smart as a cockroach and as emotionally present as a lump of dry ice. Her friends on facebook like to be tagged in the same photos as her only so they can kid themselves that the enormous number of 'likes' are because they are in it. Many boys use her regularly updated online party albums for excellent fap material.

How do I know, you ask? Because I'm one of them. I justify fantasizing about women like Maya by thinking about Sonal at the moment before ejaculation. That way I continue to tell myself that I am indeed sapiosexual.

But hey, at least I don't take these urges beyond an inch of my dick and left hand. So there's my moral high ground right there. I am attracted to my girlfriend who is intelligent af. I mean look at her grades. JUST LOOK AT THOSE STRAIGHT As! I even love her imperfections, those occasional A minuses that make her more human.

The phone rings: it's...Maya. I stick my hand out of my pants to take her call on the second ring.

"Hello".
"Hey Sankalp. Are you busy?"
"Um, no, not really...tell me?"
"I needed your help."
"Ya, tell me?"
I hear her take deep breaths through the receiver.
"I had a fight with Abhishek. He is not taking any of my calls. He left all his other stuff at my place and stormed off for I don't know where and now it's raining-"

I look out of the window: it's drizzling. Funny I didn't smell the petrichor.

"-and I hope he's fine, by god!"

She trails off and starts sobbing.

"Um, listen Maya, don't worry. I know Abhi very well, he'll be somewhere having a drink alone. I'll just give him a call and knock some sense."

I swear under my breath. This has happened so many times already that I am not even alarmed or worried. They have a fight every fortnight on an average and more often than not, I'm the one who ends up as the interlocutor. I track either him or her down and become their punching bag so they can let off some steam. Then they post a couple of cozy selfies from their bed and pretend to be the most in-love couple 5eva. Drives me absolutely cray-cray.

"I'll be really grateful if you could do that, Sankalp. You've always been a great help."

She hangs up after some half baked reassurances. I am tempted to call Abhishek right away but decide to take care of unfinished business before. I stare into Maya's stone eyes on my laptop screen, then slide down to her tight cleavage and exposed thighs, all the way down to her ankles, how they arch and taper, how her face betrays any emotion but her navel seems to express volumes, and AHHH how her underarms show no traces of hair and OHMYGOD her waist is so perfectly curved - BUT REMEMBER STRAIGHT As UHHHHHHH-

I call Abhishek. It rings for a while before he picks up.

"Hey man-"
He cuts me across. "O fuck, did she call you too, again? What a bitch."
"What happened now?"
"Nothing really. She was just PMSing so I walked out on her face. She might have gone on a guilt trip after her anger died out and she thinks talking to you might help."
"Yeah, well...just go back and pacify her dude. Don't want to get involved all over again."
"There's no chance I'll go back tonight. That's that. You don't worry, she'll be back to normal tomorrow."
"I'm cool as long as you are."
"Okay then. See you."

He takes a gulp of whatever he's having and cuts the call. I pick my phone up to call Maya exactly when she calls me.

"Hey Maya-"
"Sankalp," she says in a heavy voice, "can you come home for a bit?" She sounds harrowed from crying.
"Yes but what happened?"
"I feel all alone, even my roommate has stepped out for some work...I want to talk things over with someone."
Ya sure, she wants to talk things over! I bet she wants someone to fuck her wet pussy for the night because her boyfriend cockblocked her (or is it called something else when a guy does that to-)

"Sankalp-? Are you coming?"
NO, you unattractive airhead! First of all, I'll never fall to your unintelligent advances and second, he's my best friend-
"Yes. I'll see you in 10."

lolmax. roflcopter. fml.
2.

See, I'm a considerate person at heart, so I can't rest easy unless everything is more or less sorted out. Even if it means meddling into someone's private matters. But this is Abhishek we're talking about, so that's alright, right? RIGHT? Right.

Despite his flippancy about Maya's obvious distress, I decided to career on and give her a friendly shoulder to cry on. Just to be there for her, you know, just to give her some warm, old-fashioned company. There was no question of infidelity or stepping out of my limits. The bro code is strong with me, bro. 

I press the bell on Maya's door when I notice my little one down there getting all stiff. I hear the opening of an internal door, probably the toilet door. I think I hear a muffled 'coming!' in Maya's voice. She's coming...

So there are hacks to get your erect dick to calm down in little time. I saw it on some fb post once. The idea is to stiffen your thighs to divert the blood flow away from the johnson, in essence deflating it off all the out-of-turn excitement. I have never tried doing this before, but now is the time. 

Her footsteps come closer and I'm still struggling to squat. It's not really helping the erection. She opens the door and I hastily straighten up.

"Hey," I offer, covering my crotch gentlemanly with both hands. Her eyes are reddish and cheeks drawn up, which strikes me as unusual. In one single swift motion-

SHE HUGS ME.

I'm barely able to pull my hands from the receding space between her body and mine when she wraps me in an encompassing hug. Her breasts press against mine my chest and the lil one down there can't fucking contain himself. 

Her thin black hair rub against my cheek, smelling like rainbow flavored farts of a unicorn in a wet dream. I slowly creep my arms around her back, the back of her neck tantalizingly close to where my pinkie lands. She sobs in my right shoulder, her head almost the perfect size and shape for the space between my shoulder blades. I am hoping to touch some more skin without being creepy, trying to smoothly work my hand up. But the audacity fails me and I'm content with the bird in hand. Her head moves gently as she sobs softly in my arms. The moment gets imprinted in my memory, and I never want it to end...

But all good things do. She awkwardly pulls herself out of the hug, perhaps, nay surely not understanding its monumental significance to me.

Her dress is a few inches too deep to be deemed appropriate (by me and me alone, might I add for my feminist readers). Her yoga pants - THE BEST PIECE OF CLOTHING AFTER THE BIKINI - outline her hips down to each curve. It takes some will to keep standing.

On her face's journey out of the hug, I catch a fleeting whiff of rum and red bull. She's definitely tipsy.


"Are you ok?"

She raises her head to me, as if the question is a physical entity she can answer better when she has a look at it. Her eyes are droopy and cheeks flush. She leaves my question unanswered and totters to a side to allow me to enter. I walk in on tip toe, like a burglar after bedtime. She slaps my bum softly and close the door on us. I jump up and let out a sharp squeal in surprise. My penis reacts in a more favorable way. It's getting harder to not get carried away.

"Um, Maya..."

And then she swoons in my arms. Her body collapses on me as I scramble to support her. Like they show in the movies. 

She's gone, done for, knocked out cold. I don't even try to revive her, I don't think I want to. My heart is suddenly pumping a lot of blood to my genitals; it feels like her whole body is propped up on the support of...

Her eyes are half open but distant, not human anymore. Her mouth, half open and already drooling, shows the only sign of slumber and life: a constant heavy pitched snoring. 

I hold her tenderly, like an object of frailty and not the crafty vixen that she is. Of course she planned all this to happen! She got drunk just the right amount to knock her out and called me after her boyfriend would not entertain her. She wants me to take the first step. She wants to feel needed, to be desired, and be done things to rather than having to. What a masterstroke!

I slyly put my entire hand on her bare back now and a shiver runs down my neck. Her entire back has no trace of hair at all, unlike - whats her name again - yes, Sonal. She does not care for outward beauty, just like I don't, and I completely approve-

My hand edges further down...

Think about Abhishek. Bro code! Sonal and her A-minuses and B cups! But she just slapped my ass. She wants it and she asked for it and now my dick is also hard as steel, just don't think so much you fucking klutz!!!

I stop in my tracks and hold my breath. I am getting carried away. This is not how a sapiosexual person should behave. 

I hold Maya's lithe body from just above the waist, as dispassionately as possible, and deliver her dutifully to her bed. All this I do without exhaling, and finally when I've put her to bed, I let go. I feel relaxed. I open my eyes and adjust her body into a more comfortable repose. I tuck her arms gracefully to the side, untie her shoes and stretch her legs gently. I reposition her crooked head to a neutral stargazing pose. 

I pull the blanket over her legs and cover her till her chin. In doing all this, I respectably restrain from making physical contact with her skin as much as possible.

I calmly walk to the tiny, damp washroom, pull down my pants to the ankles, pull down my underwear to the thighs, and put my left hand to my dick.

I close my eyes and relive the last five minutes in my head. How her voluptuous body surrendered to my waiting arms, and AAHHH how her boobs bounced on impact and OHMYGOD her open back was so silky smooth and velvety - BUT REMEMBER STRAIGHT As UHHHHHHH---

THE END

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Bharat, this so so good man. I absolutely love the story. And the amazingly innovative way in which you've used our generation's -shall I say - Lingo.