I had a new low last week which laid my assumptions to rest, one assumption that I have learnt to live with the low frequency of action without letting it get to me, and the other that I have grown up a bit. I’ve a colleague I meet occasionally when I go work for her and I have become quite decent friends with her over last year. And we were working together standing next to each other when I suddenly realized that I had a… view. I’ve outgrown the peeping tom phase since a couple of decades, and it has become almost instinctive to turn away when any such thing occurs by chance. But for once, maybe because her cleavage was utterly enchanting, maybe because it was an utter aberration in the surroundings, maybe because I had never even once thought of her sexually in my head though she’s quite the looker, but I just couldn’t take my eyes off. It was as if both persons had disappeared and a dick (literally and figuratively) was in the presence of breasts. Boobs. Trying to catch a glimpse of the tits. I always have a belief that women uncannily know as soon as you look at their cleavage, that its a test you have to ace by denial if you ever want to befriend that woman, that for some women who like showing a bit of cleavage, there’s only that tiny split second when you are supposed to look, and acknowledge with appreciation, staring any more than that is just creepy. But men are masters at rationalization when they are being ruled by their dicks. I told myself – I shall catch her eye and then look away, she’ll realize and shift position. If she doesnt, I shall watch. And I did catch her eye but there wasn’t a hint of awkwardness in her tone, she kept telling the story she was saying while we kept working and so I said fuck it how’s it going to harm if I keep looking and I kept looking till I could without being caught.
When I reached home, all I could think about was I need to see some boobs. I need to touch some. I need to kiss some. Right now. I don’t need a woman, I don’t need love, I don’t need sex, I just need breasts and nipples and taking off bra straps and I need my mouth to be there where I was mentally a couple of hours ago. What an easier time it was when I was a horny teen – all I needed was a glimpse, a show of skin from a beautiful woman, and I could get as high as an eagle in a minute, gliding away in my own world. This foreplay and this ritual and this entire elongated process of niceties has ruined sex for me, hasn’t it? I felt like a kid again today, staring at boobs, convincing myself that every woman is a closet exhibitionist, and rather not thinking at all for once, no propriety, no judgement of self – because let’s face it – ever since I laid down rules of conduct for myself about even thinking about sex, I have been the strictest critic of self. I needed to be let loose today. I needed to touch some breasts.
The partner, as usual had fallen asleep, while putting the kids to sleep, and was looking like an angel, gently snoring, so peaceful. It wasn’t even 10 pm and I didn’t want to watch porn, I didn’t want to jerk off myself to sleep. I snuggled besides her, gently cuddling her, trying to wake her up, kissing her neck, her ears ever so gently while my fingers caressed her midriff. That’s the key, remember that. Never wake a woman up by touching her breasts or her pussy, never grope, cup, be forceful. Stick to non-erotic areas because strangely even horny women hate that unless they are really turned on and by that time generally you are too far gone to think of anything except getting your dick in and going wham wham wham. Stick to midriff, collarbone, shoulder, neck, maybe the ass if the woman likes it. Not even feet or thighs cos many women are really ticklish and its best to let them get warmed up first. So I kept snuggling and pecking and necking but she was snoring as if someone had force fed 5 mg alprazolam to her. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Not even the usual pushing me away in sleep.
It was then, when the man in me generally curses silently, promises himself that one day he will have an affair as revenge, etc etc that after a long time, the boy in me sensed an opportunity to have what he wanted. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Cup them. Grope them. Touch them. Slide your hands inside her top to feel the nipples, kiss them through her dress, push it away and kiss them if you dare, suck over them like a baby, do whatever that boy staring with the tongue out at a fucking glimpse of boobs would have done. Try as hard as you can to wake her up – so that Christmas would come early. If not, fulfill your fantasy. Win-win.
But is one ever satisfied? 10 mins into my game, I thought of another one. Could I undress her without waking her up?
Now that’s a story for a different day.