Desi Train

What? What the fuck? Are you nuts? How dumb would a woman be to not know that? These and other questions are bombarded on the table by friends when I talk about this subject. But when I slowly reveal the details of my story, there is an eerie silence all around…the patialia pegs are gulped down in fraction of a second and requests for another peg keep coming from all around the table. Then the nodding starts, slowly turning into smiles and then the occasional jokingly said “you lucky bastard…” are thrown around.

Well, why did I do that? Fake an orgasm. And being a guy – doesn’t that mean losing face in society? Nope. If women have been doing it for ages, so they can get it over with and make their men cum sooner…why can’t men do that. And I’m not 20 anymore – an age where I had nothing much to do, tons of porn and hyper active fantasy machine working in top gear. I’m in my early 30s, still single, tons of work, pressure, tensions, and goals still to achieve, investments to track, etc. etc. And the short span of free time I get is devoted to….dating. I’m a serial dater. And if the chemistry doesn’t show up in the first 2-3 dates, I’m out of there. But dating is a strange force in itself – atleast the getting dates part. Sometimes you are overwhelmed when every phone number or date you ask turns out into a yes, ex-s call up for dinner, friends want to hook you up with someone they know….and at other times it’s a desert, blank, dry, nothing, nada, no sign of a soul, or even if there are women to ask around – they are all married, or all have boyfriends, or all reply a crispy “no”. It’s a strange phenomenon, but men have to learn to live with it. Atleast average men like me who aren’t studs or models stepping off the fashion ramp.

So I decided to date anyone and everyone to test the validity of this strange phenomenon. Even if they weren’t, physically, that appealing to me. White, Black, Brown, Yellow, Thin, Overweight, Curvy, Morbidly overweight….anyone, to check out if the strange phenomenon of dates coming in waves exists or not. But at the end of this strange experiment, I realized it was just not possible for mini-me to be straight and erect and ready to shoot with all the different types of women. Mini-me realized there were situations out there in which however hard I tried, mini-me would rather shrink 6 feet inside than the other way around (not that the other way round makes such of a difference, sometimes I seriously think I need silicon implants on my mini-me). I now realize how hard it is for a woman to just go through the motions to let the man have his way and reach the end to ring the bells of a climax. I now really do realize their sad situations.

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“A” was a nice all American mid-western girl, who worked as a school teacher. She had beautiful blue eyes, soft face and sweet lips. But she also had an extra-extra-extra large ass. Yes, she was overweight. Not grossly but big enough for an average person to see that she was…overweight.
Well “A” and I met on our first date for lunch, I liked what she had to talk about, lot of things in common, my comic wheels are running at top speed, her body language changes, she’s leaning more towards me, then slowly during the conversation we find ourselves holding hands, then the kiss…and the next thought which any normal guy would have and which I had was “I’am horny”. While I’m thinking of what to do next, out comes two Disneyland passes from her purse and a smiling question “Wanna spend rest of the day out together?”; “Sure” I say and off to Disneyland. Well after Disneyland it was quite late and I had an early meeting the next day. So I kissed her goodbye and we decided to meet the coming weekend…near my house at a restaurant on the beach. We did meet that weekend, a few bloody marys on the pier watching the sunset, kissing, walking the downtown, going to the comedy show…all that and more and a couple of hours later I am helping her undress in the bedroom of my house.

Well we are on the bed, and I start to kiss her moving down on her belly, which was…uh a belly…kiss her belly button and look up to see her face. That very moment when I looked up, “A” rolled her eyes upwards – a physical action which says “What the fuck’s going on? What is he trying to do?” in short it meant she wasn’t enjoying it. Girls please never do that to your man. If you don’t like something say so and help him find what exactly would please you. But please don’t do the rolling of the eyes action. It’s a downer. No, it’s far worse. It’s getting your man to a complete erection and then taking a nice slender cane and using it to beat his erection down. Ouch! Anyways, I try a few more things with “A” and then roll her over on her stomach to kiss her back and neck.

—Revelation 1
On rolling her over I realized the actuality of her overweight-ness. You see she’s lying on her stomach now on her side of the bed. But her complete round ass is not only covering her side of the bed but seems to have occupied half of my side too. Bad Idea. I roll her back to face me.
—End of Revelation 1

—Revelation 2
She’s lying on her back. I’m lying over her. Time to move in. But lying on top of her made me realize I was actually lying on my stomach on a big exercise ball. Imagine this. I’m lying straight on her. I strain my neck to reach down to kiss her. While doing that my legs go up. I try to put my legs down and my upper body goes up. Perhaps making love to this woman needs different techniques, which I had never realized before. Until now women I dated and brought home were those, I could lift in my arms, pin them to the wall, and with their feet wrapped around my waist, mini-me would be up and running in the Olympics. Not here. It would be a crime to even think of doing that with “A”.
—End of Revelation 2

Well somehow, I got through the night. Made breakfast for her in the morning and she was on her way home. But I was thinking hard about last night. Did I enjoy it last night? Not much. Sex had turned out to be a work out – a pretty hard work out for me. Either I could have sex or work out. I couldn’t do both. This dating of overweight women was not for me. I mean, I enjoyed her company and all that but sex for a man is sex for a man. It is like having food and water and so much more. We need to enjoy it, have it regularly or we’ll turn into dead men walking. So I decide to not see her again and pick up the phone to call her to say “We should just be good friends and I hope she finds someone better than me. We should not date each other again.”….

So I’m undressing “A” the next weekend in my bedroom. And I’m thinking “How the fuck did I get into this again…God help me get out of this”. I’m going through the pre-sex motions, cuddling, kissing, foreplay and all that. And I am desperately trying to think of something to help me. Mini-me is sleeping as if it has had 2 dozen sleeping pills. “A” reaches down and grabs mini-me. Mini-me shows no response. The pulling and tugging of mini-me by “A” now starts. She wants it bad. Mini-me is in no mood to budge. This turns into a war between “A” and mini-me and I’m thinking “WHAT THE FUCKS GOING ON? GET UP YOU FUCKER. GO OUT KILL, SCORE DO SOMETHING” – but did mini-me listen. No that fucker was content dozing off and “A’s “ iron like grip and rope pulling and my screaming in my head were, it seems, not even reaching the ears of mini-me. I was desperate, no anxious, no I was fucking shit scared. Was this going to be the first “Non-Performance” night of my life. Oh God. Don’t do this. Think Think Think, Fuck Think….and voila, my prayers were answered, the clouds parted and out of the sky stepped down this beautiful woman called “Pamela Anderson”, stripping down, showing me her silicon implants, pouting her lips and telling me to “fuck” her.

—Revelation 3
Somehow in all that messy battle between “A’s” wrestling with mini-me, mini-me sleeping tight, my brain crying loudly for ideas…I had forgotton my age old fantasy machine. And it knocked itself on. And it played. It played like heaven. I was busy with “A” now, mini-me was full and erect and inside “A”. I had tricked mini-me, tricked into making it believe that it was Pamela Anderson below me, and my fantasy mind was aggressively flashing pictures of dear Pam in throes of passion, about to climax, screaming at me “don’t stop, don’t stop”. The fantasy machine was my best buddy. Never again would I have to fear the dawn of my first non-performance day. HA!
—End of Revelation 3

The next morning I made breakfast for “A” after which she was on her way home. I sat down with my orange juice in my back yard and thought. “Do I want to date a woman, with whom achieving a sexual climax was only possible, by using the help of playing a fantasy in my mind – fantasy of making love to another hot woman?” No, this was wrong. I had cheated “A”. I had not been faithful to “A”. I HAD MADE LOVE TO PAMELA ANDERSON. No, I did not want this. I wanted out of this. I do not want to be with a woman where my mind is making love to someone else even though physically I’m having sex with my woman. This is wrong. Everything was wrong with the physical part. This was my problem and not hers though. I just wasn’t physically attracted to overweight women. Atleast mini-me wasn’t and it had made it loud and clear to me not once but on two occasions. I got up immediately picked up the phone, I had to tell “A” this is over. I just could not see her again. It was over between us, for good.

So, the next day I’m undressing “A” in my bedroom and thinking “WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?…WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I GOT MYSELF INTO AGAIN…!!!” The foreplay follows and I’ve switched on my fantasy player. The fantasy in ON, I’m on top of “A” and searching to get some hot woman flash in my mind. Nothing happens. Fantasy machine is not working right. I shake my head violently as if some loose parts in the machine will fall back in the right place and the machine will start projecting images. Something does happen. A hazy Jenna Jameson (famous porn actress) shows up. Uh huh! I can’t see her properly. Reception is not good. Change the direction of my head – left then right. Nothing happens. But just the thought of Ms. Jameson playing in my head is enough to wake mini-me up. But not enough. Mini-me is out there semi strong. Need stronger reception. I think hard to get a sharper image of Jameson, doesn’t work. Meanwhile in the physical real world. Mini-me is already inside “A” and pumping motions have begun. Shit!!! I need to do something. I start focusing back on the fantasy. Thinking hard. Trying to flash other women in my brain. Pamela Anderson- image not clear, Jenna Jameson- image not clear, Britney Spears- image not clear, Rakhi Sawant- image not clear, Sameera Reddy- image not clear, Sunita- no, Neena- no, Madhuri- no, Raveena- no, Aishwarya- no, Lindsay Lohan- no, Illene Hamann-no, Lalita Pawar – SHIT ! NOT THAT IMAGE, rewind and fast forward my machine – this is not working – Meanwhile in the real world – “A” is about to climax, screaming “Cum with me” – Cum? What cum? I have to think fast, she digs her nails into my back, I know she’s ready, but the half standing – half sitting mini-me has not even started running the race to a climax. I know, I can feel it – this will be my first non-performing day. WHAT DO I DO? WHAT DO I DO? My ex Japanese boss’s face flashes right on my mental screen – “Youuu must SAVE FACE. “ And suddenly the words “Save Face, Save Face” start echoing in all cornors on my head. Save face, what the fuck, hell with it, Save face save face, shut up, no save face….

And then as if by a miracle I lift my head roll it backwards and produce from my throat the most most awful sound I have ever made, I go “AAAAAAAUUUeeeeeeeee ah”. I open my eyes and look at “A”. She has a shining smile and says “wow! I came so hard and I’m glad you came with me at the same time”. Good, so far she doesn’t know the truth. Now lays ahead the task of taking mini-me out, who all this time has been blowing dry air into the condom. A-hole. I first think that I’ll tell “A” how men sometimes get dry orgasms – when she sees my empty condom. Nah that won’t work. So the next best thing I do is take mini-me out and push it far back into my thighs and clamp my thighs together, lift myself off “A”, roll over, stand up, and with my back toward “A” I walk towards the bathroom with my thighs clung tightly together. Seeing my clumsy walk “A” asks “Are you ok?” OK? I AM IN FUCKING SHIT LAND. NO I’AM NOT OK. But I simply reply “Yeah honey, think I pulled a muscle. I’ll be right back” - THERE I WAS HAVING SUCCESSFULLY FAKED MY ORGASM. My first. But dear God, I don’t wanna see another.

Now in the privacy of my bathroom, I roll the empty condom off, and about to throw it in the trash can, STOP! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? “A” will soon use the bathroom and find the empty condom in the trash can. Save face save face save face….so the next thing I do is drop condom into the toilet and flush.

—Revelation 4
An empty condom never will flush out in your toilet. I realized it the hard way and after 27 flushes. The first time I flushed, the condom went in, disappeared and then as if it had the devil’s mind, it popped right back up, floating in the fresh water in the toilet. Well, it must have been by chance that it didn’t get flushed out – I thought. I wait for the water tank to fill up and flush the toilet again. The water goes in, drains out, no condom, fresh water starts filling up and back POPS THE FUCKING CONDOM AGAIN. I SWEAR I EVEN THOUGHT SEEING THE CONDOM GIVING ME A DEVILISH GRIN – FUCK! Calm down. It’s ok. Flush the toilet for the third time. Water flushes the toilet, takes the condom with it, and empties the toilet, fresh water flows back in AND BACK COMES THE FREAKING CONDOM….NOW I’M PANICKING. SWEAT ON MY FOREHEAD SWEATY PALMS AND I START FLUSHING THE FUCKING TOILET AGAIN AND AGAIN AND NOW I DON’T EVEN WAIT FOR THE WATER TO FILL UP THE FLUSH TANK, I’M MOVING SO FAST THAT SOMETIMES THERE’S NO WATER – JUST AIR FLUSHING THROUGH…but nothing makes the condom budge. It goes in and comes back right out grinning at me and now showing me the middle finger.

At the end of the 25th flush, “A” knocks on my door “Are you Ok? I hear a lot of flushing? Is everything alright?” and I go “Yes hon…everything’s fine. I think my flush is broken and I’m trying to fix it. I’ll be out in a second”. Mercifully she leaves and I try to flush a couple more times- Same Result. This is not working I have to do something. What what what. Throw it out of the bathroom window!!! Great Idea!!! But for that I have to take my hand, dip it in the toilet, put my fingers in the toilet water, pick up the condom and then throw it out of the bathroom window. I can’t do that. No way. I’m not doing that. There must be another way out, BUT I AM NOT PUTTING MY HAND IN THAT TOILET.

15 seconds later… I put my hand in the toilet and pull the condom out with my fingers. Go to the bathroom window and push the window. Nothing happens. Push the window harder. Nothing happens. More harder push. Nothing. Now I’m punching the window. Check the locks they are open. Push Push Push. FUCKING WINDOW WON’T OPEN. FUCK. THERE’S A CONDOM TAKEN OUT FROM THE TOILET IN MY LEFT HAND, I’M STANDING NAKED ON MY TOILET SEAT TRYING TO PUSH THE WINDOW OPEN WITH MY RIGHT HAND AND IF SOMEONE SAW ME AT THAT MOMENT – THEY WOULD THINK I’M SOME CRAZY GUY TRYING TO STEAL A USED CONDOM FROM SOMEONE’S HOUSE AND NOW TRYING TO ESCAPE VIA THE BATHROOM WINDOW– And yes the condom stealer steals in the NUDE! WHAT THE FUCK! THIS IS JUST NOT MY DAY!!!

Fortunately the window did snap open, I dropped the condom out, reminding myself to pick it up from outside after “A” leaves and then trash it, but ofcourse I would then have my two layered gloves on.
—End of Revelation 4

This was a night of revelation. I couldn’t torture myself anymore. Next morning after breakfast, after “A” left, I went to the beach and walked and walked and thought and thought. It was around 4 in the evening I walked to the pier sat at the bar’s patio watching the waves and the beautiful sunset. I ordered a bloody mary. Watching the birds flying home over the ocean, I took my phone out and dialed “A”. We spoke for sometime, though I did not mention about my physical and emotional trauma in the last 3 dates I had with her. We spoke for sometime and said our byes….forever. I sipped on my drink, with the cool ocean breeze kissing my face, the sun had almost melted into the ocean…it was time to start the dating hunt again. “Are you from India?” asked the cute waitress while serving me my next drink. I looked up saw her smile and leaned towards her to say something….the game was on, the hunter was back on track.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 10th, 2005 at 10:14 am
Filed under Comedy, Sex, Romance etc., Superhit Posts
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