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The constant friction of our bodies and mind produced the heat that the two melted at once, flowed off our bodies; white and fragrant. A wave of laughter with a hug, my eyes sparkled.
“Hey!”
“Hi!”
“How’s it going?”
“Not much. Lazy in bed. How are you doing?”
“Reading my stuff. And browsing profiles. :p”
“Horny!! Huh? :D”
“Lolz Yeah. Sorta.”
“Mind swapping nudes?”
“OK” [photo sent] [photo sent] [photo sent]
“Not my types.’
[profile blocked.]
Oops! —–
Sometimes upset, the others baffled, why do I forget the inherent nature of the app we know by the name Grindr?
A myriad of such small (and unapologetic) talks, And my Grindr inbox is filled with unanswered “hi” and “ago” and offline profiles, there indeed are times when I hosted them, and travelled sometimes.
The exchange of consensuality substantiates both the sides connected through the app, in fact, materialises thoughts and feelings. Call it “horny.” Lust after!
Instantaneous changes in the quantity of the excitement(s) upspring substituted in the differential equation of a (random) “hook up,” the currency of lust that gets exchanged is kissing, embracing, biting, sucking, licking, playing with the body, and looking into the eyes, and whispering in the ears, inhaling the exhaled. As if, Vātsyāyana and Rasadevī were chanting sacred aphorisms from the Kāmasūtra, guiding us through a passionate walk.
The constant friction of our bodies and mind produced the heat that they two melted at once, flowed off our bodies; white and fragrant.
Looking into my eyes, one hand on my chest and the other occupied in the intertwining of fingers, he verbalised his exaltations: “you have an attractive body- sensitive at the touch- embellished with hair. Lots of. No. You should not feel shy. MUST join swimming. And listen, just wear a speedo like this [he showed me his], I will stare at you alone.”
A wave of laughter we share with another tightest hug, my eyes sparkled. ‘Twas the confidence I lack.
From dressing myself to undressing ourselves, and dressing again, our excitements transformed into sexual intimacies in bed that turned into (emotional) bonds at the door. Farewell! With a kiss on his forehead, I offered him my Khādī shawl printed in Ajrakh. I knew he loved it. As a token of exchange, he gave me his with the tribal embroidery from Bengal. Red. Putting his lips on mine, he bade me a nice evening.
In the spontaneity of pleasure, the affection eternity, alike a bubble, besides the obvious, the “currencies” we exchanged were: the faith in his words, confidence in my eyes, realisation of my being be in this body, and the ‘shawls’ of our minds. I wonder if the difference between lust and love leads to any answer about their quintessence. Or how about if some agency and/or energy we call love sublimates into what we perceive as lust through its currencies.
Romanticisation??? Call it whatever you think.
Picture credits: Pexels
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Dear Women’s Web Community Member,
You may have wondered at our being on the quieter side during the last couple of months. Thank you for your patience, and we wanted to come back to you with a detailed note on what’s been happening at our end of things.
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