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The Perfect Bhabhi

Good News, everyone,  I found the perfect Bhabhi!

Before I unveil who she is, let me take a moment, on this auspicious Mahashivratri day, to explain in a few inadequate words, the concept of Bhabhi.

Who is a Bhabhi? 

A Bhabhi (always with a capital ‘B’) is a near-mythical creature existing in the minds of several Indian men of a certain age group, almost always associated with a curious mix of respectfulness and seductiveness. 

The concept of Bhabhi springs from the eternal human longing for incest, a longing certainly undiminished by the peculiar Indian cultural response towards anything sexual.

Who are the women closest to a typical horny young male? Mother, sisters, assorted cousins, and bhabhis. Now, every guy has his Bhabhi, from this group of bhabhis. The first three related by blood, but the Bhabhi? Someone from the outside, related only by marriage. Not very much older to you, but still not nearly as young as you. A Bhabhi is ‘safe’.

A Bhabhi is real, someone you can touch. Someone, whom you know has experience touching another man in his special place, in special ways. Someone who has been touched too, and not gently, you presume. You even hear them, sometimes.

However,  The Bhabhi, in this scenario, is unsatisfied, or not satisfied enough with her sex life. While everything on the surface might be going swimmingly well, whether she’s married to the most average guy in the city or the richest/handsomest dude in town, there are deep cravings within her that need to be satisfied. And fortunately for everyone, you have been given this special insight into this burden she bears, and you alone can bear it in the most manly way possible. (Sidebar: This was also why the Savita Bhabhi comics worked so brilliantly. They captured the essence of the Bhabhi in the body of a supermodel.)

Even more importantly – The Bhabhi, on her part, understands what your needs are, and considers it a part of her duties to relieve you. No matter if she feels guilty about it, no matter if that’s not what she knows is the right thing to do. If she’s going to be a part of this family, then goddammit, everyone’s going to be happy, if she can help it. And help it she can.

This works brilliantly both ways. Both of you, then, can fuck each other’s brains out, out of nothing more than this impersonal, heroic sense of duty.

The Bhabhi, has to be beautiful, but in a cute kind of way, rather than a hot kind of way. Approaching cute women is of course easier for you than approaching hot women. She had slimmed down for her marriage, but the weight’s coming back, and she knows it. Her husband must be a trier. He tries, and tries so hard, but he knows it, and she knows it, that he just doesn’t do it for her. This helps too. Its not really cheating, if the husband doesn’t even belong in the game, is it?

So who is this Bhabhi, who has made me stop looking, because dammit they broke the mould after she climbed out of it?

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This lady, from the assorted Crompton Greaves ads.

Now, this is a slightly misleading pic. And this isn’t the ad where I sat, slightly agog, through 20 seconds of stunning  Perfect Bhabhi-ness. For real, I didn’t realize myself what the hell just happened. Only after I settled down for a bit did I realize that I had seen the Perfect-est Bhabhi ever.

That was this ad:

Just look at it! It encapsulates everything perfectly!

When we first see her, she’s thinking “Why’s he buying stuff for the house? He doesn’t know jack about what goes in this house. Has to be related to money, or maybe that nice Sindian guy told him about it. I like that guy, he always treats Mrs. ST so well. And she always looks so goddamned happy in the mornings… I wonder what they get up to?”

Anyways, moving on, she asks him, Have prices fallen so much that YOU have condescended to buy stuff for the house?

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This moment – captured above – was when I realized I was onto something very special. You know how? There’s this favorite ratio of mine – Boob Size-to-Stomach Rolls – which is a trademarked ratio, of course, and as soon as I saw this, it just clicked. This is THE ideal BSSR ratio for the Perfect Bhabhi.

And just like that, I was hooked.

Next, in a typical husbandly manoeuvre, he asks her to guess. And she does this:

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WHO LIVES, AMONGST YOU MEN, THAT HAST NOT GOTTEN THIS LOOK FROM THY WIFE?

No one. Also, close-up BSSR.

She blurts out a number. It doesn’t matter what it is. From the time it takes her to give that look, to the time of her first guess, she realizes – at least he’s done this. At least he’s gotten some thing for this house, this room, which we share. Something where I did not need to nag him for days.

Against all her best instincts, her hopes begin to rise.

She’s almost… happy?

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Before the inevitable, crushing realization. He’s just got one – for himself, for his side of the bed.

She pretends to laugh, and bends forward, so he cannot see her eyes.

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And her clueless husband smiles, maybe even congratulating himself.

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But you know… And I know. The truth cannot hide.

Come Bhabhi, come. Let us perform our respective duties, and let us not dither.

Come.

 

Blasphemy

Blasphemy can take various forms.

This, for instance.

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That’s the new, remixed version of Kate Nahin Kat Te from some new crappy movie.You can watch the new song in its entirety here – New Crap

The problem, sorry PROBLEM, here is that Sonakshi as an actress and a female has negligible sex appeal. Which is the least offensive way I can put this across.

You know who had/has oodles and oodles and – scientific term here – fucktons of sex appeal?

Sridevi.

Look at the original – OldSexxx

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This screengrab has more sex than all of Sonakshi Sinha’s movies combined.

I want to rant, I really do. But if I rant here, then what to I do about the next one?

Do me a favor – watch the old video first – Here.

Its the original Mahi Ve, with Malaika – a goddess.

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Now, the new one. Here. See.

They’ve replaced a goddess with a blue whale.

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And not just any blue whale, but a beached blue whale in its death throes.

Why?

Is nothing sacred in this world?

 

Random Musings

  1. Not an earth-shattering discovery, but amazing nonetheless how any tweet by a girl/woman on boobs will get an avalanche of replies. I mean, its been 4-and-a-half years since I stopped play acting as @SindianTadka and its just wow to still see the exact same Pavlovian response.
  2. I don’t go all #KidsTheseDays but yeah, been there done that.
  3. Related: What a wonderful, primal force sex is. I mean, it just is. As I reluctantly step into middle-age, seeing (relative) kids going down that path is just so much fun.
  4. Middle-age not grandpa age. But I’m nostalgic. So sue me. You can’t because you don’t know me. Except you. And you. And you. AND YOU. And you. But that’s it.
  5. Oh yeah, you too.
  6. Ohhhhh, read God’s Doodle: Life and Times of the Penis by Tom Hickman. Should be mandatory reading for anyone with a penis. The blurb says for anyone who is interested in penises, but I thought might be a tad too much for non-penis holders. Some of the parts just struck so close to home, I was laughing out loud in public transportation. Also, do not read in office meetings. Like I did.
  7. I’m still fascinated by the mechanics and minutiae of sex. Hmmm…
  8. I read the ridiculous Arre post on dick pics. Sigh. Nuances, ladies, nuances… Don’t make me mad.
  9. All been good. I hope?

Have lots of sex people. Aggression is best let out that way. Do it with consent and decide on safewords.

Ta!

WTF: Goswami Edition

Watch this. You have ‘no choiss’.

Bhairavi Goswami couldn’t find anyone better than this model?  Whenever he appears, she has to literally make him do everything. Bollywood’s way more tougher than I thought. And she’s only 29, if Google is to be trusted.

You know things are truly WTF when even I refuse to contemplate masturbating to it.

 

Why do men send dick pics?
A lot of women have wondered about this question since the camera phone was invented and sending data from one to the other became affordable. Yes, there might have been a few weirdos who would have taken the trouble to click a pic, then upload to their email and send it to a specific person, but I’m guessing they would have been few and far between. So when you got your hands on your camera phone is really where it all started.
But blaming a camera phone on man’s propensity to send dick pics is stupid. What is the primal urge in Man that makes him take out his phone in the middle of the night or in the middle of a conversation, or sometimes even uninvited, then point the camera towards his hopefully erect member, click, then send it to a woman?
I’ll tell you why. It’s because he is convinced, CONVINCED that she is attracted to his cock, only she doesn’t know it yet. And of course, she can’t or won’t muster up the courage to you know, just ask for it directly. So why not help the process along? As soon as she sees the cock, all her barriers of shame will be broken and hopefully, he can proceed to bumping his naughty bits to her naughty bits and making the world a better place for everyone involved.
And how do I know this? Because I came THIS DAMN CLOSE to doing it last night.
This is crazy. Or rather, was. Of all the fucking people in the fucking world, I should fucking know better. I wasn’t even drunk. No, it was just late, late at night and I’d finished talking to a fellow (fellee?) denizen of the underworld, one who’s ideas of sex and sexuality are along my lines and with whom I’ve been quite open in the past. Chapter closed, we were all on our merry ways. And then, near-disaster.
I have this crazy bad time when I shouldn’t be allowed within 10-feet of a mobile phone. That time happens when I’m almost, almost asleep and very, very horny. It happens rarely, but it happens. Mostly it happens in the morning, you know, but then I wake up proper and it passes. When it happens in the night, I usually wake up in the morning dreading what I’ve sent to female friends. I can’t seem to help it and I feel ashamed to admit it. The lust is absolutely overpowering and my defences are completely down.
I still remember what went through my head last night and its something like this. Hmmm, she’s hot. She kinda must be open about all this right. Wow, am I horny or what? I wonder what she’s upto now. She must be, wasn’t that a very charged conversation? I wonder if she’s rubbing one out. Damn that thing’s gotten big. If I offered to show it to her, she would take me up on it right? Like, what’s she going to lose? I’m not asking her to send me anything. Of course, I could hold her to a quid pro quo later. I’ll be glad if she rubs one out on seeing my dick. That ain’t a half-bad use. Who knows, she could send something of her own. We’re cool, we’re friends. It’ll be just like mutual masturbation….
And so on… The point is, once the thought entered my mind, it took on a mind of its own. There was a rush inside. My heart was beating faster, I was getting even more excited. And I knew, I just KNEW she wanted to see my dick. Like, for realsies.
This… doesn’t paint a very flattering picture. I come across as a Neanderthal. And all the while I can still hear a small voice inside saying, NO NO NO NO NO. It wasn’t in caps when I heard it last night though. It was a small, tiny, unusually clear but soft voice. All it said was, no she’s not interested in you. Not in you. Not in your dick. She’s probably already asleep. Don’t do it. Don’t embarrass yourself. Just for the love of God go to sleep. It’ll be ok when you wake up…
And thank god, thank GOD I decided to listen. I kept my phone far away for charging and went off to sleep.
If I hadn’t? What if a day comes when I’m slightly more sleepier and way more hornier? And there is no relationship angle in this. There’s absolutely nothing, no upside whatever, from any and all angles.
This sucks. I’ve always struggled with my lust but now I’m in a position where I cannot afford any slip-ups ever. I don’t want to be this pervert anymore and sometimes I find its taken over me in ways that I feel ashamed of.
Lord give me strength.

Siege Mentality

No, I’m not under siege yet. Maybe.

Right, I started writing this, and I’m already losing my nerve. Yeah, well, I’m not known for being the bravest man under the sun anyway.

I read the article a little late. Personally, I think it was a brilliant piece of link bait. 7 out of 10 paragraphs were completely about the man. That got lost completely, because at the start he says, this article is not about the man. Yeah, whatever. Now, the other three are:

The new legal regime, put in place after the December 16 gangrape, though well-intentioned, certainly seems draconian, and full of grey areas. The police are duty-bound to register a case as soon as they receive information, even if the complainant hasn’t come forward. The definition of sexual harassment has been widened to include ‘sexual overtures’ (like sending an email or a text message), demanding ‘sexual favours’ and ‘forcible disrobing.’

New laws

Frighteningly, the new law makes it clear that consent given under intoxication does not translate into informed consent. This means that a drunken consensual tumble with a woman can come back to haunt the man the next day, or even ten years later. This seems grossly unfair. And what about demanding sexual favours? Clinton, for example, was clearly demanding a sexual favour of Monica Lewinsky. But if a man offers to ‘go down’ on a woman – is he offering a submissive sexual favour or demanding one? Many Indian men admit privately that they feel they are under a state of siege. The bedroom has been criminalised. Is it going to be impossible to form relationships from now on? Have we as a society, yet again, swung from one extreme to another?

Let’s not forget that iconic feminists themselves have criticised hysterical feminism in the West. Doris Lessing once said, and I quote, “I find myself increasingly shocked at the unthinking and automatic rubbishing of men which is now so part of our culture that it is hardly even noticed. The most ill-educated and nasty woman can rubbish the nicest, kindest and most intelligent man and no one protests. What is happening to men?… Why did this have to be at the cost of men?”

The first paragraph ended on a stupid note. And was promptly and thoroughly dismembered in this article. No issues about that. The bit about hysterical feminism, that really was an “Aa bail mujhe maar” right? Forget.

Now, from a personal point of view, I kinda sorta understood where he was coming from, and before you all shout at me and thoroughly disown me, please remember I’m a good boy who wants nothing more than equal orgasms for men and women and that I’d be more than happy to be disabused yes? Also, mind you, this is more of a stream-of-consciousness chattering rather than any structured discourse.

Also, in the spirit of disclaimers, may I also say that yes, I do kind of understand the stuff an average girl/woman goes to the limits that a man can without actually being a woman. At least I think I do. And I hope that what I’ve written and tweeted earlier substantiates this.

Right, coming to why I am actually writing this, attempting to justify the injustifiable is because I think, I THINK that I got what the male author was trying to point out.

Let me start with a small anecdote. This is from my personal experience, although its been a while, more than a year back and before the Nirbhaya episode. I was traveling in a crowded bus and soon found myself behind this comely young(ish) woman. Unfortunately, there was very little room to maneuver and I soon found myself pressed against her in a very uncomfortable position. I tried pushing back etc. etc. Nothing doing. I was squashed. Usually in such situations, I turn around so that at least its just butt-to-butt contact and not crotch-to-asscrack. This time I couldn’t. And then the driver braked. The rest you can imagine. What I’ll never, ever forget is the cold, accusing stare the woman gave me as soon as we got our bearings straight. Her eyes were clear: You touched me sexually, inappropriately. And if the facts were laid in front of anyone, I guess I had. What was I supposed to do? I suppose I could’ve got down from the bus, taken another one and all sorts of other theoretical solutions. If it hadn’t been me, maybe it would have been another innocent male passenger.

My point being, if (a) the incident had occurred post-Nirbhaya and (b) the lady decided to make an issue out of it, I was cooked. Dead and buried. The crowd wouldn’t have wasted a second before beating me up soundly. I know, maybe the crowd would have asked the lady to not make an issue of it, to keep quiet. But in the charged atmosphere we live in nowadays, I don’t feel comfortable giving myself a more than 50% chance of survival in that situation. These are not calm-the-fuck-down-let’s-talk situations.

I felt ashamed that day, I really did. Why, I don’t know. I still feel bad for her. All of that lady’s experiences in the past were telling her, here’s another piece of shit making daily life hell for you. I think I know where she was coming from. And in this case, she was completely, utterly, wrong.

I don’t think men are under siege. But I definitely feel that in the battle for women’s rights, men are in the firing line for the first time. And while this is bad news for bad men, its even worse for the non-bad ones. There will be civilian casualties in this war. I can only hope I don’t become one of them. And what happens when the war is won?

Right, where was I before grandiloquenting?

Right, ‘sexual overtures’. I have problems with this. Technically, if a man sexts with a woman, and she deletes all the messages/emails which she sent to him, and keeps only the ones he sent and reports it to the police, do we really think the Indian police is technically qualified to find out the deception quickly enough to not charge the guy? Or are they bound to register a complaint, arrest him and then jail and procedure, procedure, procedure? I don’t know.

Also, when he says that men feel under siege, what he means is that men now have to be much more careful while looking for affairs and/or one night stands. Before, during and after an existing relationship. When he says the bedroom is being criminalized, he means to say that men now have a smaller bandwidth in terms of how they can invite women into their bed. Which is a good thing when I put it like this. Why was I confused earlier then? Right, because any woman with malicious intent can easily, easily ruin a man. For what, who knows? But this law gives them the power, yes? I don’t know, please let me know. This law asks men to maintain what are conventionally called “higher” morals, albeit in a roundabout way. Should a man be ruined because of his weakness for the flesh? Not fondness, mind you, but a weakness. I am no man to judge. But the new laws give every jilted woman lover with a few pieces of electronic or physical evidence to utterly destroy a man. Is that fair? I don’t think so.

What happens, if say an extremely social-conscious aunty gets tipsy at a party and decides to finally get it on with the new hunk in the neighbourhood and she’s caught coming out of the house next morning and cries I was drunk, I couldn’t take an informed decision, he took advantage of me. I don’t know.

What happens to checking women out? There are several rather lovely ladies at my organization. What happens if one of them decides a male colleague (or me for that matter) has been “behaving inappropriately by way of intimidatory eye contact”? Long ago, The Ranee told me women have the radar. I laughed and agreed. Now, I can only hope that the radar is bang-on accurate too, or else who knows, I may be screwed next.

(Before I forget, can anyone send me/link me to a copy of ‘The New Rape Law’? I’d really like to be aware, thanks.) (That sounded better in my head.) (Writing about it without reading is stupid, yes? But I wanted to write down my feelings now, as what a normal guy on the street who lusts after women would.)

Hmm, writing this down has helped a bit. If males are feeling under siege, maybe this gives us an idea of what the average woman goes through on a nearly daily basis. Maybe this will help us fight more for a normal women’s rights, just so that an average man’s rights are kept safe too. Its time we got careful.

(P.S.: This is what happens when I get idle weekends. Tcha. I’ll make sure I come up with something inane soon.)

(P.P.S. I really should’ve read the entire female POV article before I wrote my shit. She puts it much better than I could. Basically, En Garde men. Now I just feel stupid. So publishing without editing.)

Lays

I seem to keep coming back, like a mild, not-very-unpleasant rash, don’t I?

I miss the attention, to be honest.

But that’s really not why I’m here today. Or maybe I am, how does it matter?

No, why I’m here is because yesterday, I was speaking to this amazingly sexy, sexual lady with whom I’d unabashedly agree for intercourse if we were in the same city. Now that was yesterday evening pre-conversation. Post-conversation, I ended up hoping that doesn’t happen for the next decade (?) or so. Why? Because during the conversation, I found out that if currently I were to somehow make it into her bed, I’d be classified as a ‘Bad Lay’ as defined by the amount of time I can last within her. And a ‘Good Lay’ would be someone who can last INSIDE her, thrusting, for 30+ minutes. I’m sorry, but right now, there’s just no way I can do that. Oh, and there was a ‘Moderate Lay’ in between too, in case you were wondering.

I’ve always, ALWAYS wanted to know this: how long must a fuck last to be called, you know, average? While I’d never underestimate the power of a common man, I’m not partial to overestimation either. I’m not talking God-level fucks. I’m not talking fucks to drive the woman insane with cum shooting out of her ears. I’m talking a normal fuck, just to make her orgasm. And please, spare me the spiel about lasting long enough to please the woman, as long as she orgasms who cares etc. etc. I know the party line, people. I am still me.

So, how long do you last?

And of course, ladies, I would never forget you.

This is juvenile, yes? Even as I write this, I’m aware of the sheer juvenility (is that a word?) of it. And yet, I cannot be able to let it go. And since the internet is kind of a free place (as of now) (for me) to let out this juvenility, I proceed. Not that I expect much of a response. The last two polls didn’t exactly set the world on fire, did they?

We shall speak more in the comments, and of course, via emails, if anyone is so inclined.

Stay beautiful, people.

 

P.S.: Its now that its gone that I realize the utter liberation that anonymity gives you. There’s a low single-digit number of people that know me for both who I am here and who I am IRL, and before posting I still gave it a thought, will they laugh at me? Will it be embarrassing? It is what it is…

P.P.S.: I read somewhere, ‘Love like you’re 80, Fuck like you’re 18’. I wouldn’t advise that. If I fucked like I was 18, I might not even have been within the parameters of this poll, if you know what I’m saying. Fuck like you’re 25-27 would be good enough, no?

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