The Seniors told me that if I am not choosy while mongering sooner or later IT would happen to me.
"But things like IT only happen to others. Not to me", I argued.
Seniors forewarned me not to let my dick override by brain. I argued, "You have to be really unlucky for something like IT to happen. I can't be that unlucky"
The Senior laughed it off and said "You are only saying that because you haven't ran into HER yet"
"But I am a heartless man. I look upon all the bar girls as nothing but a life-support-system for two boobs and a cunt.", I argued.
And the Senior told me again "Wait till you run into HER. Everybody has a HER / SHE mapped to him. Dread the day you find her. She will teach you that women are more than just a life-support-system for boobs and cunt.". This time I laughed it off.
But then one rainy afternoon, IT happened to me. I was sitting at an SB in NM. SHE sauntered in and caught my eye. SHE looked delicious.
But of course, to me she was nothing more than a life-support-system for two boobs and one cunt. I called her. SHE came over. I ordered a beer and began my stuff. My hands were aggressive. My fingers found their targets. All was well.
But SHE kept talking incessantly. I usually don't like that. I tried to shut her down by devouring his mouth with my lips. But she began the moment my lips came off. SHE began with her story. And what a fascinating story it was. It started from a small village in Bangladesh. It moved to another small village on the outskirts of Kolkata. IT had started lurking in the corner. All set to pounce upon innocent me. I was unaware of ITs presence. HER story had it all. A early, young-age arranged marriage. An oppressive family. A nocturnal escape with a potential suitor. Cross-over into West Bengal avoiding BSF. Oppression by a Zamindar in Kolkata. And then the final entry on the SB scene.
As HER story progressed, my hands had lost direction. My fingers had lost purpose. My mouth was almost dry. The warnings of the Senior monger were nowhere in my conscious mind. I listened with fascination. As she came to an end, her voice and eyes both trailed off. SHE was looking into a nothingness. I noticed a tear forming. I pulled her close and squeezed her waist. SHE became even more uncomfortable. SHE tried to make an excuse and tried to get away. But I was in no mood to let her go. This was the first bar girl I had come across who was something more than a life-support-system for boobs and cunt. I squeezed her closer to my body. SHE gave up struggling to get away. Her eyes still fixated into a nothingness, she slowly tilted her head towards me. I opened up my torso and arms towards her. HER head came close to my chest. I sensed her vulnerability for the moment. I pulled her head closer and rested it on my chest. I was not letting hergo for another hour I decided.
And then ..... IT happened. Unexpectedly IT crept upon me. IT leapt upon me when my emotional guard was completely down. My heart was at its most vulnerable ever with its doors wide open and unguarded.
YES. AND SO IT HAPPENED TO ME.
.
.
.
.
.
.
SHE FARTED. And I am not talking about a lady-like, feminine, suppressed lyrical breakage of air. She exploded like a pressurized can of rotten chick-peas.
Three uninhibited explosions in a row.
POK...POK...POK.
I was stunned with this sudden biological attack. I decided to pay the bill and get away.
I had learnt 3 lessons for today.
1) Women are more than just a life-support-system for boobs and a vagina. They also have digestive systems that can malfunction into gaseous outputs
2) Always heed the warnings of Senior mongers. Yeh Zaate unhone dhoop mein safed nahin kiye hain. They speak from experience.
3) The dick can over-ride the brain. But burnt nasal hair will always over-ride the dick.
Happy Mongering, fellow Mongers. Stay safe. Keep an eye out for HER for IT might happen to you too.