Damn Lady, You Should Write Erotica! Autobiographical Or Not. If You Want To Stay Anonymous, Well, Belle

Good to see an Indian women in Tumblr Very bold and sensual

I think it’s that mindset that classifies the Indian woman as different that needs to change. Indian women have always been expressive and if you ever actually read kama sutra you’ll know how advanced Indian women were globally.

Unfortunately, this so called social reforming by the old and outdated leaders pushed the Indian woman to the role of a demure wife and baby maker.

But that’s not what an Indian woman is, or for that matter that's not what a woman is.

Soulmates...

First off your page is amazing! I read a fair few of these and your writing and sensual erotic tone hits the spot every time! I find myself thinking of you and your adevntures often in my day! Is there anything I could send you back to try and rebalance all the sexual fun you have given me?

I am thankful to you for the kind compliments. That you mentioned them is more than enough for me.

How can I become your bull?? I really want to experience something like this. Have sex with someone who is someone else’s wife.

You can’t with me. You need to find someone else to experience it.

Actually it's a feeling. As u know that I had physical relations with a friends wife I actually wanted to have sex with her bareback and ejaculate inside her which I eventually did. Do you ever have such feeling of having sex bareback with your lover.

And if you had any such feeling did you actually allow your lover to have sex with you without condom and ejaculate inside you? What was the feeling when he actually ejaculated inside you if it happened?

I know this may sound personnel so it's up to you to answer these questions or not.

Dear Anonymous (I really dont know why people choose this ID, I personally find this extremely irritating, but it's ok),

I have tried to contribute my thoughts through the latest post, 'Unprotected'. Do take a look at it if you wish to.

Hi... Will u write my story in ur words.... I love reading ur articles

Hello Friend,

I apologize that I can write only of my own experiences. It is my memory which i dump into the pages. Hope you understand.

The universe created you for a reason, now go out there and find out what it is.

Nikita Gill (via thoughtkick)

Tell me, what is it for? You have been interacting with me long enough to form an opinion. let’s hear it from you now.

In india there used to be a television brand called onida. They had the tagline, neighbor's envy, owner's pride.

For some strange reason this photo makes me remember that tagline except being slightly altered to read, owner's envy, neighbor's pride.

It is an art of the most exquisite kind to touch someone’s soul before touching their skin.

inksomniac  (via wordsnquotes)

And this is the art that my husband is a master of, someone who can show me rainbows in the night and get me flowing below just talking to me over a stupid telephone from miles away in a different country.

How my stag possessed me - Part 2

Continued from my previous post...

It was probably around the second year of my marriage, and I hadn’t strayed one bit. Actually my husband was more than I could handle and he is very active to pleasure me physically. My husband informed me that the annual dinner in his office was convened. Spouses were allowed. The year before this, we had both been travelling and so we couldn’t attend. We both were eager to be there, to get to meet other people to socialize with and for him, to kind of show me off as well. Although India is currently very widely influenced by the western dressing and in fact all the western dresses are very popular here as well, personally, I was always since attaining my youth have dressed myself in saree, a traditional Indian dress. For those in the west who are reading this, you may please Google for Saree. I have during my college had worn westerns like jeans and skirts and shirts and trousers, but have always felt that I look my best in a saree and could carry myself in it.  So, for this evening-party I dressed myself in a brown saree with deep-red sleeveless blouse and matching lingerie. It was a party, so a slightly plunged neckline and a more-than-normal low-cut on the back on my blouse was not inappropriate. Since I am of medium complexion, umm, maybe slightly on the duskier side, the darker shades look better on me.

It was organized in one of the large banquet halls, overlooking a sprawling green lawn, in a five star hotel. Some guests had already arrived that he got me introduced to. They were really nice people. I won’t deny that it felt good when some of them complimented me on my dress and I could see I was getting my share of male attention. Having said that, it would be wrong to not point out at this stage, that the male attention that I referred to above was the very decent kind where men appreciated me for how I looked but all within the limits of social decency. There were drinks that were served and both I and my husband indulged. A jovial mood prevailed over the party.

It was quite late in the evening by that time when my husband said that he would like me to meet one of his long time colleagues who was till now posted abroad and have very recently returned to India. Rumours were that my husband could be considered next to fill up that position abroad. Both were at the same rank within the organization. His colleague was in the lawn and we were in the hall. So my husband showed me around to meet him. Now, I am positive that all of you have heard the phrase ‘sparks flying’, as did I. But it was the first time when I was escorted to him and I got to look at his eyes and he shook my hand, that I literally felt hit by a thunderbolt. He was nothing extraordinary to look at. Neither handsome, nor bad, couple of inches taller to me (I am 5’8” myself, which is considered tall for Indian women), very well dressed in a black suit, possessed what looked like through the layers of his suit, a really swollen and large belly, dark-skinned, clean shaven. Even his shirt failed to trap tufts of dense black hair on his chest which popped out at the top. As he shook my hand and made small talk while my husband introduced me, I could feel my heart would burst out from the rib cage. I could hear not a word that he said because of the sound of my own heartbeat that deafened me. I felt people around me could also probably hear it from how they sounded to me. I maintained my polite smile while he continued to hold and shake my hand while introducing himself. It went to a point when I finally managed to blurt out, “I am sorry but I really didn’t catch your name in the loud music. Could you please tell me again?” His name, for the purpose of this public document shall be R, which is the first letter of the name. We kept talking and in a while another colleague of my husband came up to inform that the boss wanted to speak to my husband. I was standing there in the lawn with R. There were quite a lot of other people who were also present around us, but in my mind I felt myself to be completely isolated with just R in that lawn.

To be continued...