One day while I was cycling around the corner during a late evening I saw the dark vegetable vendor arguing with a Cop on a motorbike. As I neared the cart I could see that she was shaking her head and crying while the cop waved a warning finger. I stopped near the vegetable cart as the cop grandly drove away on his motorbike.

The woman looked up at me and asked me what I wanted.

I bought a kg of tomato and while giving her the money asked her “ didi why are you crying?’. Maybe it was the moment or the small act of kindness during a difficult time or the fact that I had called her didi, made her look up and smile at me. “What to do beta… one has to face all sorts of problems in life”

I asked, “What did the police want?”

She had wiped her tears with the help of her pallu and said, “What do they want beta…what do all men want…they all harass for money”

“How much does he want?”

She looked at me with a worried look, “ He wants 500. where will I go for that kind of money. I survive day to day basis. Nowadays it is difficult. I have to bring this vegetable from whole sale market in central bazaar. Yesterday I had to carry them in the hot sun because there was no tempo from the circle” She got back to arranging the vegetables murmuring her problems to herself.

I said, “ I will give you 500”

Her hand stopped over the brinjals and she looked up her face a mixture of surprise, relief and suspicion if there were a combination like that on a face at all.

“Why”
“What …Why didi?”
“Why are you giving it to me”

I solemnly said, ‘My mother always told me to help people in trouble.”

She wondered about it for a moment. When she saw me she say an earnest boy(well not exactly a kid, my 18th birthday was a week around the corner) on a cycle wearing nice dress and a honest face.

“Where do you live?”

I told her.
‘That big house near the shops, That is your house” Her suspicion was pronounced. I nodded. She stared for a minute and asked, “Will your mother buy my vegetables?” she asked.
I shook my head, “My mother and father is dead, I am an orphan. My grandmom takes care of me”

She softened and put her hand on her cheek wondering about this boy. I noticed her hand was smooth and clean and so was her cheek. In fact, her face had chiseled features and her skin was black, smooth and shiny. She was slim and shapely but wore her sari close not revealing much. But once I had seen her bend down to arrange the vegetables and I had seen her cleavage. The swell of her breasts were visible above her blouse. But in a reflex reaction she had pulled her pallu across covering the fabulous view.

“I do all the shopping in the house” I proclaimed. She smiled. “You are such a good boy” she said.

I took out the 500 and gave her. She took hesitantly and said, “I will pay you back through purchases of vegetables ok. My name is Mala”she said

I nodded.

,,,

So the days went on. In about a week Mala came regularly home for vegetables. I timed her arrival with that of my Grandmom going to the temple. Every day she used to keep the basket of vegetables on the doorstep and give the freshest picks. I started chatting.

I think Mala was a lonely person and liked to chat. So she did.

She was a kid when she came to the city from her village. She had come with her uncle and aunt since her parents had died of hunger. Her stay with her aunt was not very memorable. Her aunt made her work in a laundry washing clothes.

“It was backbreaking. As a young girl I used to work for 15 hours a day”. But after sometime she felt she had to run away. She did not like her Uncle. “He wanted to sell me in the Koti Bazaar. You know what that place is? It is bad. So I ran away and joined a tendu leaf factory. I worked there for many years. I used to hear many stories of molestation. But I escaped from there. Now I live in a shack in a slum with my mother’s sister. She is old and I take care of her. There were a few marriage offers but I don’t have dowry money. So I am 23 years old and already a old woman. No one troubles me. I am black and ugly so no one bothers”

“I don’t think you are ugly” I said

She looked at me her mouth open and laughed. Her teeth were clean and white. “oh you are joking saheb”

I kept quiet.

The next two days I used to pass her but not look at her. The third day she called me, “Saheb saheb…” I did not turn back.

After a couple of days she came to my house as usual and plonked the vegetable basket, “Saheb why are you angry with me?”
I said, “You laughed at me…made fun at me”
She looked aghast, “Why when…”

“When I told you…you are not ugly”

She looked at me with her hand on her cheek .That was a favourite stance. She then squatted on the floor.

“Saheb. Don’t be angry with me. You are like my brother. I don’t have anyone”

I remained silent.

“Sorry’ she said.

I nodded and got up. “Come inside for a coffee” I said and went in. I looked quickly at my watch. I had an hours time before my grandmom came in.

I went to the kitchen and made coffee. When I came back I saw Mala sitting in the verandah floor. She got up and took my cup and sipped. She looked at me, “I think I must have made lot of karma for getting a younger brother like person like you”

I sat on the floor and we had coffee. After finishing she got up. “I want to wash the cup” she said. I took it from her and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. She stepped back in a shock. “what is this?”

“Oh that is a brotherly kiss” I said. She blushed. Ok it looked like that. When black people blush you can make out in their eyes. But she was flustered and quickly gathered her basket and left.

The next two days were not that interesting. When I used to go past her vegetable cart she used to just give me a shy smile. I had to be contented with masturbating…with porn magazines and kerchiefs.

Then came the big opportunity. My grandmom decided to go to her native place in Bilaspur for a month. Initially she was worried. But I assured her that my cooking was decent enough for survival.

On the next day of her departure I stopped by the vegetable cart and said hi to Mala. She smiled shyly once again. She was getting uncomfortable with my long steady gazes into her eyes. I asked her whether she could cook for me since my grandmom had gone to her village for a family visit. Mala looked down not knowing what to do.

Since she did not reply I left from the place. I had some important work with Sarita aunty.

Next day morning the bell rang and I opened. Mala stood there. “I am not an expert cook but I can try…’ she said hesitatingly.

So I allowed her into the kitchen and briefed her. She started cooking while I sat on the stool in the kitchen and chatted with her. While she worked I noticed her body. She wore an old cotton sari and a faded blouse. Her legs were white around the corner of her foot. Most dark coloured women have a bit of white around the heel and sides of their foot. While she worked I also could make out her stomach and midriff. She had not an ounce of bulge there unlike Sarita aunty. Her stomach was literally flat and I even managed to glimpse her navel. Since her pallu carefully covered her breasts I could not make that out. She continued to chat about the vegetable business, all the time cutting the carrots on the kitchen platform into round circles.

I got up from the stool and put my hands around her. She jumped a bit. But when I held her tightly she stood still. I put my hands around her stomach and kissed the back of her neck. She murmured, “Saheb this is wrong…”

I kissed her below the nape of her neck and put my nose into her thick hair.

“My hair is dirty saheb. I have not even washed it. Please…”she whispered. Then suddenly she gripped my hand tightly and pushed me to the side. She gathered herself immediately and washed her hands and went to the door. She turned back,

“Saheb, that is why I did not like to come. I could see in your eyes. We are doing wrong. I am not married and you are also young. We are different people. I am a poor girl. All i have is my virginity. If i lose that what do i have…. and we should not do these bad things”.  (CCN, 2009)

Hearing him complimenting her Shobha felt thrilled. Her body shuddered. A wave of warmth ran over her body. Her body throbbed and saying ‘really’ she hugged him.

As his mother hugged him, Rahul caught hold of her chin and drawing her face closer he kissed his mother hard on her lips.

‘Oh Rahul, Rahul’ she cried plunging deeper in her arms and kissing him passionately.

‘Mama I want to see these’ he said sliding his hand under her sari and moving it over her breasts and before his mother could reply he saw the waiter coming.

Suddenly both sat straight as the waiter came in. After he served them food and as he opened the wine bottle, Rahul saw his mother signaling him to fill one glass. As the waiter finished filling her glass he excused saying ‘if you need anything, please ring the bell Maam.’

‘Thank you’ replied Shobha which saw him bow and leave the cubicle.

It was then that Rahul realized the significance of the bell. It made him cheer up to know that the waiter would only come in when the bell was pressed otherwise they would be left alone. This suddenly aroused Rahul as it struck him that his mother knew about it and had opted for it.

Rahul relished the rich food and as he finished it and cleaned his hands in the finger bowl he looked up at his mother.

His mother smiled and pointed at the tissue papers as the sari she was wearing was very expensive and she did not want it to be spoilt.

Rahul wiped his hands with the tissue and as his mother too finished eating she pressed the bell.

In came the waiter and after collecting the plates he left behind the bottle of wine and a glass.

On seeing his back Rahul immediately put his arm around his mother’s shoulder and pulled her to him.

‘Hey wait’ cooed his mother who was sipping wine.

‘Why?’ asked her son nuzzling his face on her head.

‘Let me finish this’ she said pointing the wine glass.

‘Can I have a sip Mama’ asked Rahul releasing his hold on her a bit.

‘Only one’ replied his mother lifting the glass to his lips.

Rahul gulped as much as he could in one take and as the wine hit his stomach he felt its chill.

Shobha saw that he had almost emptied the glass and as she was refilling it, she felt her son’s hand slide down from her shoulder to under her sari.

Allowing his hand to endure the pleasure of feeling her naked flesh above her breasts she continued sipping the wine.

Rahul’s hand did not stop there. Boldly it ventured above her swollen breasts to the front of her blouse.

Shobha took a deep breath as she felt his fingers trying to unhook her blouse.

Rahul seeing that his actions were not stalled slowly unhooked the top three hooks of her blouse and feeling the warm flesh of breasts he started to caress them.

Shobha put down the glass and turned towards him allowing his hand more access to her breasts.

Getting the required leverage Rahul unhooked the rest of her hooks and pushing aside the flaps of her blouse he cupped one breast in his hand. Feeling her breast fully in his hand Rahul’s pecker was hard as a rock.

Shobha too started moaning with the heat surging in her body. As Rahul was cupping her breast she put her arms over his head and smacked a wet passionate kiss on his lips.

Rahul was thrilled to the limit. Now both his hands came into play. As one hand had cupped her breast he slid the other hand behind his mother’s back looking to unhook her bra.

Shobha feeling his son’s hand trying to unhook her bra spoke softly ‘what are you doing Rahul?’

‘Let me have a look at them’ replied Rahul as his hand felt the strap of her bra.

‘No, not here’ replied his mother half heartedly enjoying his touches.

‘At least let me feel them,’ saying this Rahul unhooked the clasp of her bra and slid the bra from her breasts. This made his mother’s swollen breasts to jump out. Rahul was delighted to have released his mother’s breasts. Though he could not see them as they were still covered by her sari, Rahul cupped the bare warm flesh of his mother’s breasts in his hand.

Shobha’s body shuddered as her son’s hand invaded her bare breasts. Her whole body was on fire. She started moaning deeply and said ‘enough, enough.’

Rahul did not stop. His fingers searched for his mother’s nipple and on finding it he gently squeezed it. Shobha let out a soft scream. She was high on wine and the sensations which were creeping over her body due to the caress of her son’s hand were too much to bear. She thrust her body over her son’s.

Rahul was quick to notice her actions. Leaning on the sofa he pulled his mother to his chest. Tamely Shobha let herself be pulled up and as she felt her almost naked breasts crush her son’s chest, she took her son’s face in her hands and started kissing his lips passionately.

This was too much for Rahul to sustain. His rock like pecker started to vibrate. He felt it wanted some solace and as he felt it jerking in his pants he slid his legs between his mother’s thighs.

Shobha left his rock like pecker nudging at her thighs. This made her body to vibrate violently. She knew she was on the threshold of creaming out. She lifted her lower body a little and as her son pushed his legs below hers, she clamped down heavily over his.

As his mother clamped down her thighs over his, Rahul felt the warm softness of his mother’s thighs on his bulge. This made him go wild with passion. Removing his hand from his mother’s breast he gripped his mother’s back tightly, having a vice like grip over her. He was sure that his mother could not move.

This invigorated him and mechanically he started thrusting his bulge over his mother’s thighs and feeling the warm body of his mother on his bulge he started to leak in his pants.

Shobha too felt his hard cock jamming at her thighs. The sensations creeping out from her body was too much. She could not withstand it any longer. Searching for her son’s lips with hers she smashed it over them and ravished it.

As she was ravishing her son’s lips with hers she felt her son’s body go stiff and as she knew his cock was spitting out she gave a final push of her body over his and holding him tightly she let out the stream from her cunt and lay fully upon her son.

Shobha was exhausted on pouring out from her cunt. She straddled her son’s body and lay upon it. Rahul after some time seeing his mother lying flat out over him slowly regained his composure. He wanted to see his mother’s breasts which he had only felt. His eyes were craving for it and as he tried to remove her sari, his mother feeling him active again, got up suddenly.

Turning her back to her son she quickly set right her bra and hooking her blouse said ‘tomorrow you have your last exam, let’s go.’

Rahul had to oblige as he had one more tormenting day to compete before being free. As his mother pushed the bell to ask for the bill, Rahul was up ready to leave.

They returned home and Shobha straightaway went to her room. Rahul was left alone to study and as it was his easiest subject, he recapped all the important points before going to bed. (eXbiI,2009)

Bologna-Udine-Cividale-Udine-Bologna aka come sei (più uno) bolognesi vanno in gita in friuli.

“Udine è una bella città ma non so se ci vivrei”: tra i molti pregi incontrati -oltre a non dover vivere nel traffico, secondo metro di giudizio della civiltà- si staglia quello di percepire costantemente l’ubriachezza della popolazione più o meno autoctona il cui tasso alcolemico viene mantenuto in quota da una scellerata politica enologica e da un virtuosismo che permette di ignorare la progressione dei prezzi dell’economia di scala. Aggiungiamo anche altri due elementi come il Frico e la gubana allo slibowitz e il quadro clinico si può chiudere. Potrei fare una dettagliata descrizione delle bontà mangiate tra jota, pasta e fagioli e nervetti alla cipolla se solo non avessi vaghi ricordi offuscati dalle lentissime digestioni.
Il Friuli tuttavia si conferma non così distante da ciò che si può vivere in una città come Bologna per quanto riguarda l’organizzazione di serate, anche se con maggiore inesperienza la casistica di imbecillità, casi umani e genuina bellezza dei proprietari\organizzatori non è tanto differente da ciò che si percepisce e vive da questa parte del Po.

Il terrorismo del decibel  è la malattia più grande di ogni città, è il virus che spegne casse, amplificatori e voci ad orari più che discutibili -anzi quasi indiscutibili per manifesta stupidità- impedendo a chi under 40 (under 30?) vorrebbe poter trovare una degna controparte al divertimento alcolico. Organizzare serate significa anticipare orari, incastrare concerti con proiezioni di film a qualche muro di distanza piuttosto che sentire un “tanti auguri a te” che parte tra una canzone e l’altra del gruppo a cui si è fatto da spalla, oppure creare qualcosa di selvaggiamente bello incastonato in un paesino tutelato dall’Unesco e lasciato morire appena dopo le sette di sera perchè mancano collegamenti degni della sponsorizzata qualità di vita, perchè c’è il vicinato e una popolazione reazionaria a cui i giovani, molto banalmente, gli stanno in culo.

A Bologna ci lamentiamo di come le cose subiscano sempre più spesso limitazioni, ma a volte non ci si rende conto di quanta libertà possiamo ancora vantare se relazionata a chi la libertà di divertirsi può viverla solo con il boccaglio o muovendosi verso altri lidi (cfr. il traffico di auto tappate di giovani verso Jesolo).
Suonare fuori dalla propria città offre visuali inimmaginabili su come si muove il paese, anche laddove viene decantata l’enorme civiltà e l’alta vivibilità. Non si può che essere solidali con Alessandra del Navel di Cividale e Andrea del Venti3 di Udine, piccole isole distanti tra loro in cui ancora governa l’umanità.

Part 1.

It was 12:10 pm and Nilanjana was before time for her appointment with her younger sister. She checked the gas knobs off. She checked the water geyser and taps not dripping. She had a checklist in her mind and she followed that. She did not want her apartment to be a mess when she returned.

She was to make in time for the 13:30 pm meeting with her younger sister Kumkum at the city center mall, about 45 minute drive from her apartment.

ahh, the window was not bolted properly and had flung open letting breeze in. This shanta bai is more worried about rushing out than doing things properly. She looked out of the window and saw a young couple

It had been a long long journey for Nilanjana after her and Kumkum’s parents had died. Her dad had just been transferred to Mumbai from Calcutta when both the parents died in the scooter accident. It was tragic times with Nilanjana just 17 and Kumkum much younger at 10. But Nilanjana knew more than tragedy, they had no real relatives to take care of. She knew she had to support and fend for herself and her younger sister.

Nilanjana left her studies and joined a full time clerical job at her fathers employment company. The scales were much less. But the sympathy towards her loss made things easier for her to settle in. She could earn enough to support her sisters studies in one of the best convents and cutting edges to make the ends meet for the two time decent meal.

Times were tough but tough got going. She had met Siddarth in one of the company party evenings. Siddarth was the managing director of the company and Nilanjana was responsible to arrange the party. Siddarth fell in love her hardwork and dedication and the beauty of her work. Or maybe he fell in love with her “just-out-of-teen” 22 year old innocence. Nilanjana never had paid any attention to her appearance, though god her blessed her with some of the best.

She had fell in love with the plain suits, she could afford. She had no room for makeup in her life. The only luxury she applied was to have suits stiched loose enough to not to highlight her volumptous 36 C breasts and meaty thighs and full buttocks which added spice with her 5 feet 9 inch frame.

Time passed, Siddarth was inclined towards Nilanjana, but she was afraid of things, or just wanted to focus on her job to support her sister’s studies.

Only after Kumkum, a bright girl in school, made it to engineering with top grades, did Nilanjana relax towards the life. Siddarth made a soft proposal to her. He seemed serious and she liked him. But there was a vast difference of status which Siddarth downplayed.

They went ahead with their plans. Everything went well, but destiny had something else in mind for Nilanjana.

The nice and a beautiful relation for Nilanjana turned into turbulence when the marriage proposal was rejected by Siddarth’s family. Siddarth did his best to get Nilanjana accepted in the family.

Barely had his family consented for the marriage and marriage took place in full tension environment.

It was just the second day of their marriage, when Vicky the younger brother of Siddarth tried to cross lines on Nilanjana. He took Nilanjana to be a loose character girl who wooed his elder brother for sake of money and comfort. He stated his intentions to Nilanjana the very first time he bent to take her blessings when the bride came home, by touching her legs rather than feet below her saree. She averted the face off in front of everyone by backing out of it.

Later he offered her more money if she slept with him. And he ended up getting slapped.

Nilanjana complained about him in the family and as a result Vicky was kicked out of the family house and business. Some people in the family did not like it and the relations turned bitter. Finally within a month Siddarth and Nilanjana moved to a different apartment away from the family. Siddarth setup a new business.

Nilanjana was more comfortable in new apartment with fewer luxuries, but she could comfortably have her younger sis Kumkum stay with themselves. Siddarth was very understanding and supported Nilanjana in this regard.

It was about 7 years to her happy marriage (though they did not plan for a kid till they settle and Kumkum married). Life was filled with struggle for the couple as Siddarth setup new business. But the couple lived it happilly through the ups and down of the life.

Finally things seem settling for Nilanjana. She had satisfaction of her role, her struggle in handling a major tragedy in life. Life and god had been kind on her and she thanked god for supportive husband, a very nice and loving sister who had done her proud with her hardwork and a nice life ahead.

Kumkum had grown into a pretty sexy young lady like her sister. She passed out engineering with distinction and was employed with one of the prestigious software firms in the city. She had been proposed with a young guy Rahul and they were destined to marry in coming 10 days. And that is where she was heading. To complete last legs of big shopping list which was pending today.

Her thoughts were broken by a buzzz of the door bell. Ohh, she had been leaning on the open window for past 15 minutes. Her long hair was in disarray with the wind. She adjusted her black saree and tucked her hair behind her ears as she walked to the door with her big heels tip tapping the floor.

Who is it?? she asked in a quizzing voice as she opened the door.

Nilanjana : YOU.. Why are you here???

She was taken by surprise when she opened the door and unexpectedly saw Vicky standing there with another guy. They were dressed pretty cheaply in hunky funky clothes.

Vicky : Bhabhi, Namaste Bhabhi.

Nilanjana : (ignoring his greeting) Why are you here?

Vicky : Bhabhi, was just passing by.. thought would drop in for a glass of water.. By the way, this is Rohit, my friend.

Rohit : Hello.. bhabhi (bhabhi coming in a bit late)

Nilanjana ignored his greeting but just noticed a big red bag in his hand looked like a cricket kit.

Nilanjana : your brother is not in and I am leaving. You probably should come some other time.

Vicky : Bhabhi, just a glass of water. It has been boiling hot outside.

Nilanjana : (thinking) ok.. wait here..

Saying she turned with dilemna in mind if she should be harsh enough to slam the door on the visitors. She decided against it and went into the kitchen, just half closing the door.

When she returned with two glasses of water, she was taken aback by the two of them seated on the sofa in the drawing room.

Probably I should have rammed the door into their faces, she thought.

Nilanjana (irritated) : Water..

She could feel the vulgar looks of Vicky. She ignored them.

Vicky : Bhabhi, you still look sexy.

Nilanjana : shut up. Finish the glass and get going.

Vicky : Bhabhi, heard that Kumkum has also grown sexy.

Nilanjana : SHUT UP, LEAVE… (pointing to the door)..

Vicky : (looking at her as if she was silently accepting his words) Seems Kumkum’s assets have outgrown yours.. he he..

Nilanjana was fuming now, but Vicky was as cool as ice.

Vicky : heard your sis is getting married. You did not invite me to her marriage.

Nilanjana : do you want me to call the police.

Vicky : bhabhi, you are just getting angry. ok, lets discuss business..

Nilanjana : GET LOST.. i tell you.

she turned to walk towards the phone. she picked up the receiver.

Nilanjana : I am calling the police if you dont leave right now..

Vicky : wait bhabhi, please see this before you do.

Rohit pulled out a piece of cloth from the bag and held it in his hands.

Nilanjana looked at the cloth, trying to figure what was happening. It looked like a tattered piece of garment… like some garment thrown away after being worn extensively. tattered into pieces and dirty.

Nilanjana : (confused) what is it.

Rohit arranged the garment properly in his hand and held it out once more.

Nilanjana : what is ,…. wait.. OHH MY GOD..

Nilanjana : what is this.

Vicky : what you think about it?

Nilanjana : this is.. this is..

Vicky : yes.. this is the top .. which Kumkum was wearing today morning to office.

Nilanjana felt a streak of chill run down her spine.

Nilanjana : how did you get this? where is Kumkum?

Vicky : dont worry bhabhi.. she is ok.. she is with me..

Nilanjana : with you?? what do you mean?

Vicky : ohh bhabhi.. u ask lot of questions.

Nilanjana : bastard.. what do ..

Vicky : (in commanding tone) SHUT UP bhabhi.. i dont like abuses and slang for myself..

Nilanjana’s voice cracked and seemed accepting the back foot. She could feel her heard beat faster. Sweat formed on her head. Vicky meanwhile took out his mobile and dialled a number. she could hear the ring on the other side as Vicky put the phone on speaker. Nilanjana kept quiet. maybe she was afraid to speak. she was letting things happen the way Vicky wanted them. she could not let that happen.

A voice on phone got her back into the room.

(voice on phone) : hello boss…

Vicky (on the phone) : how is chidiya doing?

(voice on phone) : boss she is getting angry.. crying..

(voice on phone) : boss .. can i touch her??

Vicky (on the phone) : wait chotu.. i will get a bigger chidiya for u..

Nilanjana : please let me talk to her..

Vicky (on the phone) : chotu. give the phone to the chidiya..

Kumkum (on the phone) crying) Hellooo..

Nilanjana (on the phone) : Hello..

Kumkum (on the phone) : Hello didiii.. pls save me didi..

Nilanjana (on the phone) : hello.. kummu.. hello.. are you….

Kumkum (on the phone) : please save me didi.. please.. they..please give them whatever you have of them..

Nilanjana(on the phone) : i will kummu.. where are you..

Kumkum (on the phone) : didi, they have beaten me.. and .. and they…(she broke down crying)…

Vicky took the phone, disconnected it and put it into his pocket. To be contd.

Source (MasalaMan, 2009)

Here is one more small recap!!!! Once, when i was in my Engineering, While sleeping as usual i was touching her body and enjoying. One day while sleeping she had turned 90 degrees towards me with her face facing me.

I saw that the saree pallu was bit loose b that time!!!! and i just slowly pulled down the saree pallu. It was a green colored saree. she was wearng a green blouse. as her bobs were bit pressed due to her sleeping position they were popping out like anything. I managed to remove one upper hook and i had half heaven in front of me. for a long time i stared at that with my dick hard as a rock. Slowly i gathered courage and took my face towards her boobs and gently kissed them!!!! Mannnnnnn thats one of the most amazing thing, they were so warm!!!!

My mom was a teacher, she and her kids from school went for a two day trip. There was a male teacher also along with her. I was also included though i studied in a different school since i was her son. I was probably 13 or 14 at that time, there was shortage of rooms in the hotel for the team due to some emergency, so me my mom and the male teacher had to share a two bed room.

I went to sleep quite fast due to the tiring journey, i woke up after sometime hearing some noise ( cant recollect what noise was that ). I found the bed totally empty but for me. There was enough light seepage into the room due to a thin curtain. I heard some hushed grunts from the floor. To my surprise and severe shock i found my mom making love with her colleague. He was on top of her, stroking very slowly and cautiously..she with her legs wide spread. A strip of light fell on and off her face when the curtain flutter in the fan air, I found her with eyes closed and her mouth open in a gesture as if something is paining ( or may be its the pleasure as she was a mother of two kids..so no chance of pain..lol). I forgot to mention what she was wearing while making love..she was topless with her saree, blouse, bra and panty neatly tucked on a chair near the table ( suggesting they took a lot of time before the act ), she was just wearing a pink petticoat which ofcourse was pulled up on her stomach.

After finishing they both walked holding each other to the toilet, they took about 10 minutes in there, dont know what was happening there..she put on her bra and blouse ( left the saree on the chair itself) then came to bed. She then held me close as I was trying hard not to make her feel my hard on against her..

This incident made me to believe in the fact that even your mom is just a human and can err at anytime, I have no clue whether she continued that relation afterwards, but the thought of it gave me instant hard ons and I always gets turned on by her underwears. I used to smell and wear them..and as i grew up those habits died out slowly, but the thought of my mom getting fucked on a cheap hotel floor by a stranger gives me instant hard on even now. (honeydear, 2009)

Everything is made up of energy.  It is possible to connect with a person’s energy by listening to their name, looking at a picture, an object or through many other ways. There is no time or space in the spirit realm, so we are able to connect with your energy wherever you are just as if you were right there with us.

So what are chakras and where are they located? The word ‘chakra’ is derived from a Sanskrit word meaning ‘wheel’; but perhaps even a better translation would be spinning wheel. If you could see chakras (as many of us whom work with them do) you would be able to see each primary chakra as a spinning vortex or wheel of energy.

There are 7 main chakras in the body and the first one is at the tip of your spine.  It’s about survival.  The second one is located 2 finger widths below your belly button and is about sensuality, sexuality and relationships.  The third chakra is located in the soft part of your solar plexus and is about control, resistance and manifestation.  The 4^th chakra is located where the sternum bones meet in your chest.  This one is about love and self love, and love of others.  5^th one is communication and creativity, and is located in the soft part of the neck.  The sixth is the 3^rd eye and located just above and between your physical eyes.  It’s also the spirit part of you.  The seventh is located 2 inches above your head and is the connection to the source, supreme being or whoever it is for you.  It is also how you take yourself out into the world and how people view you.

As the mini tummy tuck cosmetic surgery procedure gets more and more popular, it is inevitable that more people begin to ask questions.  Of course, many people simply want to know if they could benefit from this procedure.  While a tummy tuck surgeon would be the best person to answer that question, we can provide a little guidance.  If you have excess sagging skin, as a result of aging, and are in good physical shape, you may be the ideal candidate.  If you have recently had a baby or have lost a large amount of weight, than you may not be a good candidate.  This would be the case because more than likely you have a large amount of skin above the navel that would need to be removed.

When I was a student at BBC in my 2nd year, my room-mate and I enjoyed the occasional game of Axis and Allies.  At the height of maturity, any time we engaged in ship to ship combat, one of us would invariably shout “Naval Battle”.  We’d then expose our belly-buttons and squish them in and out while making shooting noises.  I’m sure our mothers would have been quite proud of the way in which we utilized our study time!!  If my memory serves me correctly from way back then, my roomie usually won the Axis and Allies games.  Back then, I thought it was that he had better strategy than me.  More recently I have come to realize that he simply had the superior belly button.

You see, I have an “umbilical hernia” – a defect since birth.  These Axis and Allies games could have landed me in a Navel hospital.

That’s going to change in a little less than a month when I go in for reconstructive belly-button surgery.  Yes, my belly button will be better, stronger, faster!  No longer will I need to fear surprise Navel attacks.  (As long as my surgeon passed his courses at the Navel Academy).

Now if only I could find some way of dealing with the lint problem…

Originally a piece in ScientificBlogging, October 10, 2009…

I need most of my body parts. I figure I have my various meaty chunks for good evolutionary reasons, and far be it from me to sell any, no matter how often that creepy guy shows up at my door with a cooler of dry ice offering me money. But if I ever were going to unload one of my body parts, I’d pick the most useless one of all, one that is even more useless than the appendix (although even it has recently been suggested to not be so useless, “Your appendix and your eyes.”)

I would sell my belly button. To illustrate just how useless it is, can you recall when you last used it? I bet you can’t. It is well known that the more common “innie” variety accumulates lint from your clothes (mostly your underwear) over many months, which could be useful if you’re interested in knowing what the average underwear color of your date is – although if you’re close enough to get a good lint sample, my bet is that there is little mystery about the color of the underwear.

Is underwear color documentation the only use of the belly button? Could it have some better function? Has anyone done the perfect experiment where one removes the belly button? Maybe we’re dead in 15 minutes without a belly button! That does seem unlikely.

At any rate, anyone who knows anything will assure you that there is, of course, absolutely no function for the belly button. It is just the remnant scar from the umbilical cord, the cord which was useful while in the womb.

But I’m not so sure.  Mind you, unlike much of my research where I put forth and test an actual hypothesis for what some biological feature is good for (e.g., color vision, forward-facing eyes, the shapes of writing, illusions, number of limbs, brain anatomy), for the belly button I don’t have any hypothesis at all. For the navel I’m drawing mostly a blank. Nevertheless, there are several reasons which suggest that the belly button is not simply a developmental leftover.

First, do you have any idea how many strange things happen to our bodies during development?! Our wee bodies undergo massive transformations, with certain anatomical features appearing at one stage (e.g., tail-like appendages), and completely going away later. All this is crucial for building fancy machines like us. Just as buildings have scaffolding during construction, but don’t end up with scaffolding scars left on them, biology can build structures during development that are needed during development, and that completely go away later. All these developmental back-flips occur, and then get “covered over.” Why not the belly button?

Second, in most mammals the belly button does, in fact, get covered over. Have you ever rubbed the tummy of your dog or cat and felt its belly button? No, you haven’t, because you can’t feel it. And unless you’re a veterinarian or are in desperate need of a hobby, you have never shaved its tummy and visually found it either. Mammal belly buttons tend to be like scars – smoothed over and lintless. Our belly buttons, on the other hand, tend to be much more morphologically well-defined. Easy to see. Easy to feel. Why is ours so conspicuous?

Third, it is generally a bad idea to have skin with an inward divot or outward protuberance. Divots are potential places for infection, and protuberances are at extra risk of abrasion. That’s why the skin over your entire body tends to be divotless and protuberanceless. “Smooth” is good for skin and the bodies they cover, so the fact that belly buttons stick their noses up at this design criterion may suggest they have a reason for existing. That is, it seems to indicate that there is a good reason for belly buttons…a reason good enough to outweigh the disadvantage of having a divot or protuberance.

So, there is a case to be made that morphologically visible belly buttons may be selected for in humans. They could be covered over but are not in us, they in fact are covered over in other animals, and there is an apparent disadvantage to having them.

But what on Earth could belly buttons be for? I don’t know, although my suspicion is that it is linked in some way to sexual selection, and to the fact that we’re the naked upright ape. Other animals’ belly buttons would not be visible to anyone because of fur or because of its being located on the underside, or both. But in our case we’re naked and standing upright, so our navel is something others can potentially see. I have argued elsewhere (“The Hue Of Hefner: How Color Made An Empire Possible“) that perhaps we’re the naked ape because we are color signaling over our entire bodies, not just the face; could it be that the navel is somehow part of the socio-sexual signaling we engage in?

It has not passed my notice, in this light, that the belly button is definitely sexy. Not everything that’s visible on our bodies is necessarily considered sexy; e.g., eyebrows, nostrils and elbows get few fetish videos made about them…I am told. But we can be shy about our belly buttons, and perhaps that is a hint as to what they’re doing there.

Mark Changizi is a professor of cognitive science at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, and the author of The Vision Revolution (Benbella Books).

Mymlan ville denna vecka att vi skulle blogga om kroppen… och därför tänker jag göra detta nu.. för jag får ju börja med att säga att det är min hjärna.. min cytohjärna som totalt hade glömt bort att jag skulle göra detta.. den där cytohjärnan som gör att man glömmer hälften av det man tänkt att man ska göra..

Glömmer saker.. glömmer ord.. fast inte det där som är urviktigt.. som läkartider och behandlingstider.. de glömmer man inte.. men jag kan glömma ord.. som jag ska skriva i bloggen… och då har jag maken som bollplank.. och det kan vara vanliga normala ord som man använder dagligen.. och det kan bli fruktansvärt frustrerande.. Det kanske inte låter så farligt.. men det är hemskt.. att glömma helt vanliga ord.. och jag kommer inte på ordet.. tänk er själva.. ni sitter och bloggar och så är plötsligt ett ord bara borta ur hjärnan.. man försöker på alla sätt komma ihåg det.. och till slut finns ingen annan råd än att fråga den älskade maken om råd… han blir nästan lite fnissig att jag glömmer såna där vanliga vardagliga ord… men han hjälper mig ändå..

Dessutom så fryser jag om huvudet just nu.. inget hår som skyddar och värmer mitt huvud… men nu ska det börja växa ut igen.. och jag bara längtar..

Om vi sen fortsätter från den där hjärnan som går på halvfart neråt mot fötterna.. så kommer vi till de där två som män och bebisar gillar… brösten… jag har varit enbröstad sedan den 14 augusti 2006… men nu ska jag bli hel igen… det där att vara amputerad.. för det är faktiskt det man är.. när de har tagit bort en kroppsdel.. tänker inte folk på.. att vara amputerad är ofta när man saknar ett ben eller en arm.. men man tänker inte på brösten då.. men de är också en form av amputation när man blir av med bröstet… för det är en kroppsdel.. man tar bort… och så ska man lära sig att leva utan bröstet.. vilket kan vara lika svårt som om man tagit bort ett ben eller en arm.. man måste lära sig att leva med detta… för mäns blickar faller ofta på kvinnans decotage.. och om där då bara finns en.. då ser man att de tittar än mer… även om jag inte är storbystad.. så saknar jag mitt bröst.. fast nu.. nu ska jag bli hel igen..

Vi fortsätter vår resa neråt i min kropp.. eller rättare sagt.. vi får göra en liten avstickare upp mot vänster nyckelben.. där det sticker ut en liten rund knöl.. detta är min lilla port-a-cath som syns.. en liten plastdosa.. som de sticker i när jag får cytostatika och som gör att jag kan få medicinen utan att mina blodkärl i armen tar stryk… för cytostatikan är kärlretande.. och jag har inte lust att mina kärl ska bli hårda och ha lätt för att spricka.. när det finns saker som underlättar både för kärlen och för mig… jag älskar min port..

Så kommer vi då till magen.. detta som kvinnor gärna inte vill ha.. men som man kan få.. speciellt om man har fött barn.. då får man en sån där vacker bebismage.. fast det ligger inte någon liten bebis där… men magen har man… vilket är lite konstigt… men denna kommer på mig att bli ett nytt bröst.. magen min flyttas alltså bara två våningar upp.. jag får ett nytt bröst.. och får en platt mage på köpet.. fast jag får också en ny navel… jag älskar min navel.. man kan gömma småsaker i den.. och jag hoppas att min nya navel kommer att se likadan ut som den jag har nu… inuti min mage är det lite si och så.. det är ju så att cytostatikan är duktig på att se till att man får förstoppning… och genom att jag även går på morfin så blir förstoppningen än värre… så jag pratar med min mage.. jag hotar den med droppar… laxoberaldroppar.. för att få igång magen.. bara detta hot gör att magen faktiskt sköter sig ett par dagar… sen är det dags igen… och så håller vi på…

Ryggen då.. det är ju där jag har tre av mina “kompisar”.. de där små knölarna som de upptäckte i mars.. de där små som betyder att min cancer har spritt sig.. att jag är kroniskt sjuk i cancer.. att jag aldrig blir frisk… men jag har sagt det en gång.. och jag säger det igen.. jag ska hoppa fallskärm när jag fyller 90.. om de så är det sista jag gör på den här jorden.. innan jag går ut genom grinden…

Den fjärde och sista kompisen sitter i bäckenet..

Så har vi då armar och ben… Benen är två relativt bra fungerade spiror… och jag kan ju ta mig fram bra mycket bättre nu… sen jag fick min rollator… Jag knallar på… med neuropatin som gör att det kliar och lite bortdomningar i fötterna.. så ibland känns det som om de inte är med… fast de är det.. eller när det känns som att de sover.. den där kliandet och stickandet… så har jag det dygnet runt… och så även i fingrarna och händerna… men det kommer ju att bli bättre nu när jag slutat med idegrans dekokten..

Annars är min kropp full av diverse ärr.. jag och sonen räknade en dag.. och kom fram till följande resultat:
1 ärr i bakhuvudet efter hundbett
1 ärr i pannan sen jag gick in i en skylt
2 ärr ovanför vänster armhålla för insättning gånger 2 av port-a-cath…
3 ärr ovanför nyckelbenet för insättning, utplockning och insättning igen av port-a-cath.
1 ärr modell större där bröst och lymfkörtlar suttit..
1 ärr på höger ben för bortplockandet av en fettknöl.
1 ärr på utsidan av vänster överarm för bortplockande av en fettknöl.
1 ärr på undersidan av vänster överarm för bortplockande av en fettknöl.

Nu kommer min lista på ärr att bli längre… eftersom jag ska få ett nytt bröst.. så uppdatering lär komma…

Jag är ändå himla nöjd med min kropp.. fast alla skavanker och annat som finns där.. så fungerar den tillfredsställande och utan den hade jag inte varit den jag är idag…

Jag tänker alltså finns jag till!

Läs även andra bloggares åsikter om pysan, kropp, bloggvärldsbloggen, bloggtema, hjärna, mage, fötter, händer, rygg, bröst, nyckelben, ärr, bäcken, metastaser, glömmer, neuropati, bröstcancer, amputerad, arm, ben, hår, enbröstad, fett, blodkärl, navel, förstoppning, cytostatika, morfin, fallskärm, idegrans dekokten

Amy Winehouse har tydligen gått från B-cupa till D-kupa..
Allas vår Linda Rosing ska förminska sina när hon har ammat klart.. för som hon säger:

– Jag vill inte stå för det idealet längre. Jag har mognat och känner att självförtroendet sitter inte i brösten. Utan jag vill bli bemött och sedd för den tjej jag är.

Linda.. det är ju det alla har sagt till dig sen du blev “berömd” i Big Brother..

Jag ska inte ta bort.. utan sätta dit.. jag blir av med min bebismage.. och jag får en ny tutte på köpet.. jag får också en ny navel… jag vill ha en navel som ser ut som min gamla.. min navel är nämligen perfekt.. det är ett perfekt runt hål.. och den sortens navel vill jag ha kvar… inte en massa veck och en liten kulle som står upp i mitten.. utan en navel där man kan gömma saker i.. så som man kan med min nuvarande..
Jag hoppas också att de ser till att min nuvarande tutte blir lite mer fyllig.. för som det är nu så är det inte mycket till tutte.. för taxöron kan de inte göra.. utan en snygg byst är vad jag vill ha.. och nu är det jag som bestämmer…

På tal om att bestämma så hade jag aldrig låtit den här Annika få uttrycka sig i pressen.. på det sättet hon har gjort.. Jag kan tänka mig att hennes kost är bra.. att man ska äta vad man känner för.. och därmed mår man bäst… men att gå ut med de uttalanden hon har gjort.. både om cellprover och mammografi.. att hon inte får cancer för att kosten är en universalkost som kan bota allt.. (nästintill)

– Det är urlarvigt att hålla på med mammografi och cellprovtagningar när folk dör av felaktiga kostråd medan bara enstaka får bröst- och livmodershalscancer

Enstaka är 7000 kvinnor i bröstcancer per år.. och ca 400 kvinnor i livmoderhalscancer.. av dessa dör 1500/200 per år..och detta är enstaka enligt Annika… jag har svårt att inte kritisera henne.. kosten är säkert jättebra.. men att gå ut med att det är urlarvigt med mammografi.. tänk om den inte hade funnits.. då hade jag inte varit i livet idag… och det kvittar vad jag hade ätit… jag hade fått cancer ändå.. för det är inte p.g.a. mitt immunsystem som jag fått min cancer.. det är mina egna hormoner..

– Äter man en riktig kost får man inte cancer.

Sen jag blev tillsammans med Den älskade maken så har han stått för matlagningen.. och de såser och annat som han har tryckt i mig under åren så hade Annika tyckt att det är den kosten som är kanon.. grädde och smör används.. inga halvfabrikat här inte… utan äkta vara… så hur är i såfall den riktiga kosten???

Nu får hon inga fler vikariat inom landstinget i Västernorrland.. Fast hon ska inte säga att hon har blivit av med jobbet.. för som vikarie är man inte anställd.. utan man har bara en tillsvidare anställning just den tiden man är där och jobbar… Dessutom är det inte första gången som hon blir av med jobbet..
Fast hon är inte ensam om att ha granskande ögon på sig.. här är några till.. Zappern som det står om i artikeln hittar du här..

Det ska vara stickat i höst.. och här är sidan med de stora sköna stickade plaggen som vi ska bära i år… tacka vet jag hemmastickat..

Här poserar jag.. innan jag visste om mina metastaser.. så därför är jag långhårig.. men det är tröjan ni ska titta på.. inte på mej..

Nej.. apoteket väntar.. jag måste ha mer tabletter för min mage.. omeprazolen börjar ta slut.. så det är lika bra att köpa nu… innan jag står där utan en enda pilla…

Utgång!

Läs även andra bloggares åsikter om pysan, apoteket, tabletter, tröja, stickad, höstmode, urlarvigt, kvacksalveri, vikarie, grädde, smör, mammografi, enstaka, univeralkost, bröst, Linda Rosing, Amy Winehouse, förstora, förminska, bygga upp, navel, orginal

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Post ke 3, masih dalam tahap tugas kuliah, saya akan mereview Shuffle!. Mungkin, sebagian dari anda bingung, game apa yang saya review. Shuffle! adalah game bergenre Visual Novel hentai. Visual Novel adalah game dimana player hanya membutuhkan sentuhan klik pada mouse atau pencetan tombol enter untuk melanjutkan cerita. Game ini dirilis oleh Navel di Jepang, sementara untuk Eropa ada MangaGamer yang men-translate menjadi bahasa Inggris, meskipun kualitasnya kurang baik.

Cover depan Shuffle!

Shuffle! mengambil latar dimana pintu antara 3 dunia, yaitu dunia mausia, dunia para iblis dan dunia para dewa terbuka. 3 dunia tersebut bahkan hidup berdampingan. Game ini menceritakan Tsuchimi Rin, seorang pemuda “beruntung” yang tinggal berdua bersama teman sepermainannya, Fuyou Kaede (ya, tinggal berdua, cewek dan cowok). Tetapi suatu hari “keberuntungannya” bertambah, dimana 2 gadis dari dunia dewa dan iblis, Lisianthus dan Nerine yang mengaku menjadi tunangannya. Lalu dimulailah hari-hari “menegangkan” Rin dalam menghadapi fans klub Kaede, Lisianthus dan Nerine. Sehari-harinya Rin dibantu oleh Shigure Asa, senpai (kakak kelas) Rin, menghindari fans-fans klub cewek-cewek tadi.

Screenshot gameplay Shuffle!, Rin sedang berdialog dengan Asa-senpai.

Terdapat 5 heroine yang dapat kita **** maksud saya “pacari” dalam game ini, dan tentunya bermacam-macam ending untuk setiap heroine. 2D CG artworknya sangat bagus dan sempat membuat saya khilaf bahwa saya adalah penduduk dunia 3 dimensi.

Berikut beberapa preview CG nya:

Kaede (btw she’s my fave ftw)

Lisianthus (Sia)

Nerine

Primula *cough* loli detected *cough*

Asa-senpai

Background music nya terdengar unik, tetapi beberapa BGM nya terdengar agak mirip. Meskipun begitu, tidak mengurangi keasyikan saya begadang di depan laptop sambil *ehm-ehm* mengklik-klik mouse. Jika anda hobi melihat tulisan-tulisan sambil menikmati artwork CG, game ini sangat sayang untuk dilewatkan.

Score:

Story : 8/10

Graphics : 9/10

Sound : 8/10

Gameplay : 10/10

Overall Score : 8.75/10

PS : This game is NOT for children.

     Well, that was interesting.  I have just returned from the piercing parlour.  My navel piercing (belly piercing) seemed to be acting up as it has been for the past number of monthes since piercing.  It turns out that the red scabby stuff going on beside it, meant I had caused it trauma and torn it.  Therefore, it refused to heal.  Inconvinient, right?  Right.  The trauma was causing it to reject, just to make things more ace. 

      Anyway, it all comes down to the piercest removed the ring so I could finnish healing.  Perhaps I will try repiercing later on in life… we’ll see how I feel when they day comes that my stomache is healed enough trying it would be reasonable.

     So I thought I would provide a bit of info.  Very basic for now but I fully intend to expand on these topics later.

Infection:  This is the basic thing we’ve all heard of, bacteria festering in the fresh/still healing piercing and the works of unpleasentness beginning.  Red skin, dry skin, scabs, leaking puss (sometimes by the gallon O.O).  The infected piercing can sometimes be ssaved with intesnse care – aka clean, clean CLEAN!  HOWEVER, you need to be aware that scarring can often occur if the infection is already to far or is not looked after IMMEDIATELY.  [Try polysporin]  There are numerous cases where the best option is really to accept that the piercing is not going to work out and that it is in your best interest to remove the jewlarry and consider trying again in 6-8 monthes to a year.

Rejection:  Rejection is simply the process by which your body says “NO” to your choice of piercing it, and loses all the skin on top of the piercing – pushing the piercing to the surface so it falls out.  Only on rare occasions can fully underway rejection be stopped.  Some peoples skin reject various metals and so switching the ring to a higher quality metal can help.  Also adjusted after care is sometimes good.  In most cases, rejection means you need to give up and consider retrying in the future or just, trying to pierce someting else and hoping for better luck.

Migration: A quite undesired way for piercings to go.  This doesnt always mean complete loss of the piercing.  It actually means the piercing moves from its original positioning,perhaps to be crooked or otherwise out of place.  Be warned however that in some cases migration is capable of damaging tissues surrounding the piercing and if you are experiencing soreness and redness in the surrounding area – even if the piercing is old, you should watch it carefully and wash it often.  If you are feeling uncertain, visit a piercest and discuss what’s going on and the best solution.

If you have any more questions comment, email me or visit a piercest!

fight.for.peace.xox@hotmail.com

-Carmenella

navel is for bellybuttons and oranges

naval is for ships and sailing