Abhay paces the small one room kitchen apartment, it wasn’t a lot of pacing; four steps back and forth made up for his tiny dwelling. But then again what is a struggling writer, if not living in a space cramped with a chair, a bed, a foldable writing table, a solar powered lamp, a bowl full of cigarette butts and five day old pizza.
Abhay’s predicament wouldn’t be something new for you, but for him it was a dilemma that put him in precarious situation. You see, the next chapter in Abhay’s highly ambitious debut novel about four friends who had just passed out of IIM – B; was that one of those friends was finally getting lucky. And Abhay had to describe him getting lucky.
Now this shouldn’t be a problem to many writers, or maybe it would be. I would never know. But Abhay is still a virgin, which means, he has never gotten lucky. And the poor little peasant has no idea how to, either.
As a preparation for his next chapter he even downloaded Tinder and entertained at least ten different women, all of whom were software engineer, for a span of twenty days. After days of back and forth texting, he realizes that for him to ever get lucky, a helplessly horny woman, who is not a software engineer, needs to turn up on his doorstep.
That made him consider reaching out to an escort, however, his mortal fear of STDs helped him decide against it.
Perhaps Abhay is tired of pacing, or maybe he has finally found inspiration in the Penthouse edition 326 that he had read almost ten years ago; he finally sprawls himself on the bed that also moonlights as Abhay’s wardrobe. He opens his Macbook and types.
She had big breasts, in fact humongous ones. Deb couldn’t take his eyes off them, even though she stood there fully clothed. Her breasts were round like melons and perked up as if an invisible force was holding them.”
Abhay is now chewing his left index finger nail. He doesn’t know what to write next. Clearly he is not able to think beyond the breasts.
After chewing his fingernail to the point where a trickle of blood runs down his index finger, Abhay’s fingers fly on the laptop again.
“Deb’s penis felt hard, it reacted in a violent jerk at the sight of Jenny’s breasts. Looking at Deb stare so shamelessly at her breasts, Jenny felt shy and averted her gaze. Her face became red and a hesitant smile formed at her lips.
She walked slowly to Deb, the bulge at his pants making Jenny’s eyes bulge out of their sockets.”
Abhay smiles, he believes he is close enough to be known as the nation’s foremost erotic author, although most of you would beg to differ. In fact I almost cringe at putting you through this, however, it is important we realize that this moment is one of those defining moments in the Abhay’s journey as a writer.
Abhay adjusts his seating position as we realize that his body is enjoying writing this erotic scene as much as his mind is. He smiles and his hands attack the keypad with renewed vengeance.
“Jenny breathed hard, there was desire dancing in her eyes when she asked, ‘Why are you looking at me like this, Deb? Like you have not seen a woman before this moment.’
Deb, still staring at Jenny’s massive breasts, swallowed his tongue and answered. ‘You are beautiful.’
Jenny was panting like a bitch in heat and Deb’s crotch ached and begged to be released.
‘What about me is beautiful, Deb?’ Jenny asked.
‘Your… your bre… Your eyes, Jenny. You have beautiful eyes.’ Deb replied.
‘Oh… what else, Deb?’ Jenny walked closer to Deb and her breasts are now just an inch away from Deb’s chest.
‘… Your… your body?’ Deb asked, wondering if it the answer is right.
‘Oh… Deb. I know this is the first time we have met. But I feel like I have known you forever.’ Jenny crooned and took Deb’s hand in hers.
Jolts of lightening passed through Deb and his cock jerked like it has been electrocuted.
‘I love you, Deb.’ Jenny said, looking into Deb’s eyes. Forcing him to look away from those ginormous breasts.
‘Touch me, Deb. Touch me.’ Jenny brought Debs hands to the one thing he had been eyeing all evening at the college party, her breasts. Deb groaned in desire.”
Abhay’s hands have now left the keypad. He seems to be touching himself, like his body is those ‘ginormous’ breasts. Yet, in almost thirty seconds some part of sanity prevails and Abhay foregoes touching himself to continue with his badly written sex scene, even though it is not easy, considering that hard weight that rests between his legs.
“Debs hands moved in circular motions, squeezing and massaging his object of desire.
Jenny groaned as well, as she confessed to Deb that she had never been touched before.
‘I am a virgin, Deb’. She said.
‘What?’ Deb responded unbelievably. How could this beautiful, sexy, hot woman with humongous breasts still be virgin? But one look at Jenny’s innocent eyes convinced Deb that she wasn’t lying.
An energy that Deb had never experienced before, encroached his body and he started massaging Jenny’s breasts with renewed vigour.
‘I am giving myself to you, Deb.’ Jenny continued, although Deb wished she would stop. He did not say so. He considered putting his mouth on hers but he was scared. This was his first time after all and he did not know what could offend the woman.
‘You will deflower me, Deb.’ Jenny said. Deb removed the fly of his pants with one hand while his other continued the work on Jenny’s breasts. His cock was out, and he was ready to deflower the innocent virgin with colossal breasts in front of him.”
Abhay can’t write anymore, and I am sure you understand why. While Abhay helps himself in the tiny bathroom that uses a curtain for a door, let me tell you why we need to go through this.
Because when you finally read Abhay’s debut novel called ‘Why point anyone’; and believe me you will; because every other person you meet would be talking about it. In fact Abhay will be hailed as the modern Valmiki, who taught India to read; you need to understand that Abhay was still a virgin when he wrote this.