Emails.

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The year has been way too heterosexual so far. I hit the jackpot of dramas and their penises. In sexual relationships, tensions don’t hit the heart: there is no such muscle. They hit right in the ego. But the damage is reversible. However, the problem can’t also be the remedy, no matter how good it tastes. You become desensitized. It’s time to look around.

 

A quick call, and my V met the world’s longest P. Note to self: building relationships while I don’t care about the size of their sexual attributes (friendship) can prove fruitful in time. No need to even compare. Longest and… thinnest. Can’t have everything. Like a pen, but more like a 2D very long pen. The thing hurt. Like when you’re too full. That’s what I thought, until my arms started to hurt too, not from the moves that were my shy answer to my new mister does-it-all, but actually the pain came from the three travel vaccines I had gotten previously that day: one in each arm, and one at the thigh. The fact that it did not hurt right away at the clinic should have hinted that it would creep up when most appropriate. Needless to say the band-aids that proved those darlings were a great pretext and proof that I needed to end belly-up…who needs two people on top anyway. Classical does not mean boring, and can be and was source of (multiple) enjoyment. Perhaps I should tip him.

 

To be honest, my mind was somewhere else. It’s a bad habit I’ve been developing this year. When even the longest P doesn’t compare with reading an email, that means the email was sinful.

 

I think the good lovers are those who can grasp what’s going on in your mind. And The Best Lover knew exactly where to hit: an email. Maybe it was the timing (a friend I really cared about just insulted me real bad and I was already starting to miss him), or maybe it was that it was a total surprise, but the simple ‘Coucou, j’ai rêvé à toi hier soir’ (Hey, I dreamed about you last night) turned me upside down. Must have been a nice dream.

 

She knows me enough to know that I thought about her all day the next day, and even though I had to concentrate on studying and thus needed food and caffeine, I couldn’t get anything in. Even my stomach was thinking about sex.

 

And I knew her, that sentence was not to be taken as corny cheezy à la Marvin Gaye. It was daring and proud, it was there and not to be ignored, a bit like her butt. It was more like Coucou, je te veux demain soir (Hey, I want you tomorrow night) or even Coucou, je t’aurai demain soir (Hey, tomorrow night, I’ll have you). Even after a year and a half of not seeing her, she’s the only one I would make place for on my planned to-do list during finals. (The long P has developped a habit of just popping in: the door is usually open. We don’t plan, we just do. We’ll get tired of each other soon. It’s like having prime steak every night; it’s tiring for the mouth and for other organs. No matter how you have it. That’s why we have vegans and chastity underwear).  Maybe I’m idealizing the only girl I’ve ever really been with, or maybe I’m just bored of penises and their owners, all I know is that she was delicious and I could not feel too full with that.

 

We were the two people on top type of pair. So I didn’t answer yet.  I have a Suis-moi je te fuis, Fuis-moi je te suis complex, which is only good for breakup sex. Shouldn’t be bad for one-time reunion sex either.

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2 Responses to “Emails.”

  1. leila Says:

    hmm…thin and long, ouch..!! The good lovers come often..and come equipped with the right ‘peniology’, and it’s NOT built like ‘..2D pen’, lol!

  2. Julie Says:

    WHERE?

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