Saturday, February 1, 2014

A Hobbled Hump

So there I was, sitting on top of my one-night-stand, doing jumping squats and panting—my thighs kept giving way. As I wiped a bead of sweet sweat off my right eyebrow, I resolved to do more squats at the gym tomorrow. It served me right, I mused, for trying to sleep with a 25-year-old marathon runner—ten years younger and 20 kilometers fitter than me. 

My little paunch seemed to agree as it wobbled up and down as I straddled him. Completely out of breathe, I smiled and stretched my head backward. That helped flatten out my stomach. To own this moment, I needed a new move—an age-defying stunt.

I sat up straight and began gyrating, realizing that 15 more squats are as far as I’ll make it before I’m dehydrated or dead. I jumped up and down, his man-sword firmly implanted in me. I jumped higher—he groaned and I giggled. I decided to take it up a notch and jumped terrifically high. 

He slipped out and before I could balance my landing, I came crashing down on his balls. He yelled and rolled to his right. I rolled off onto the bed, apologizing. I leaned forward to give his penis a kiss but his hands were protectively covering his injured parts. 

Should I secretly be happy that I wouldn't have to do any more squats tonight?

This piece was performed by the southasian sisters as part of their Yoni Ki Baat.

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