Queen size beds can be traumatic

Allow me to take you back a couple of days.

On thursday August the 10th I made a move from Stanford to Houston where I shall be a Scientist by day and working one of the small houston sports bar by night. Before leaving Stanford I decided to spend a couple of nights doing some of the good old in-out (kind of a farewell-to-gradlife fuck or a farewell-stanford fuck) with my recently acquired German uttering desi-babe, albeit for the last time, though that it is a issue that has no bearings whatsoever on the event I shall be describing.Now I am a meticulous lover. I like to plan a good fuck, and when it comes to a farewell-fuck I plan it even tighter, cross all my "t"s and dot all my "i"s and make sure that the fuck-plan is bullet-proof. So armed with a vintage bottle of wine, a bunch of romantic mood-setting dvds, a fresh bunch of the most beautiful daisies you have ever seen I made my way to desi-babe's one bedroom apartment, all ready to spend two night and two days worth of pure sexual bliss. So far so good.

And it got even better. I might be a lousy date, but by God I am a super fuck. So after taking sweetie on several monumental joy-rides over the night she finally let me know that she and most of her vital nocturnal-muscles/organs have had way too much for one night and the only thing that she can now do is drop dead asleep. Fine by me.

And thats when tragedy struck. You see I have a sleeping disorder. I cannot go to sleep with someone else in my bed. I can have sex, I can kiss, I can tak, I can fondle, I can cuddle, I can grope, I can stroke,, I can do pretty much everything with you in bed, except for the sleeping bit. Now fortunately for me, the girls I've been involved with do not know this little secret of mine, the reason for which is the fact that all these girls, thankfully, had a single cushion bed in their apartments and I too have a single cushion bed at my place. So when it was sleepy-sleepy time, the moment she fell asleep I could safely get out of bed, pull out a sleeping bag and happily sleep on the carpet all by myself. When questioned the next morning Why the fuck are you in that sleeping bag and not cuddling with me, I had the perfect excuse It is anatomically impossible to fit two sleeping bodies in that single bed sweetheart and I wanted you to have the perfect undisturbed spacious night of sleep. After all I need to you to be fresh and prim for the fornicatiions I have in store for you tonight sweetheart. And I was fine.

But on this farewell night I had a huge fucking problem. She had a God damn Queen size bed.

Sweetie, having been royally and gratifyingly poked in all possibly pokable regions for the last several hours decided to cuddle up to me and fall asleep in my arms. And believe me when I tell you this that she fell asleep in exactly 5 minutes. And that left ---me, extremely awake, stuck in a Queen size bed for the night with a girl using my arm and a bulk of my chest as a pillow-rest and my torso as somekind of a wrapping gizmo around which she can wrap her arms so fucking tightly that I had to strain to breath normally. And then there was her hair. I love long hair, I really do, nothing turns me on more than a girl with a flowing mane. But for Pete's sake I do not like it one bit when that same hair frequently makes its way into my nose and my mouth. And with sweetie's head resting on my upper chest, preacriously close to my mouth and my nose, and with that fucking table fan spinning around at top speed right next to us, that same much-loved and turn-me-on-sensational hair turned into an object of intense loathing. Everytime tha fan would spin and make a sweep over her and therefore my face those lousy hair aroused to hellish proportions by that freaking fan would rise up and make a mad-dash for my noise and my mouth, desperately trying to get in and succeeding. I tell you it was a struggle, a real fight between me and her fan-aroused hair. And it was a batlle I was losing badly.

I needed a plan, some plan, any plan , anything that would get her off cuddling me. Desperate times call for desperate measures and so I resorted to the "hug-and-roll" plan.

Those of you who have ever seen FRIENDS will know how desperate this plan is, but for those of you who havent I shall enlighten. In princiiple it is really simple. What you do is you cuddle her up more tightly in your arms (thats where the "hug" comes from) then roll her to her side of the bed, getting her off you and then roll back to your side of the bed to experience the freedom of having no arms or legs wrapped around you And by God the plan worked. She was off me. I could feel my almost numb arms again, nothing was trying to get into my mouth and nose any more, my torso was liberated. I could barely control myself from singing out loudly with joy.

But that fucker Murphy had said long ago Anything that can go wrong will definitely go wrong.

Just as I was beginning to enjoy my newly acquired freedom and quitely singing a Anu-MAlik song in my head out of sheer joy, I suddenly heard a small rumbling lind of a noise , What!!can this be really happening, am I singing so well in my head that I can even hear the accompanying invisible banjo-led orchestra. But then the noise grew, it picked up volume and began to rumble and roll with abundant glee and soon it was no more accompanying my singing, it was determined to be the only noise in the bed-room, determined to hammer my ear-lobes to extinction and make its presence felt with a vengence. I looked up alarmed, panic-stricken now, What in fucks name, are we being attacked by aliens or something, sweetie dear can you hear that, I went up to say to her.

And then I saw it. It wasnt aliens, it wasnt even Anu Malik's orchestra, it was my sweetheart's nose. With every breath of hers, everytime her chest rose and fell, her nose spoke to me in a tongue I didnt understand. Of course I assumed that her nose was trying to speak to me since there was no one else in that bedroom. I desperately tried to make out what her nose wanted to say. Are you not happy with your shape dear nose, I asked, do you want her to get a nose job. FUUURRRRR -FUUSHHH-FUFFF it hissed back at me. It was obvious I wasnt getting anywhere, and the more I treid, the more agitated it seemed to get. The room was now alive with our lively banter. Me speaking in English/Hindi/Bengali, while her nose speaking in grumbles and rumbles.


By now my ears were buzzing and my eyes were a dangerous crimson red from the strain, and so I did what I had to do. I reached for that damn nose with two fingers and clamped it up. I had shut it off, the foreign tongue had gone silent. I was winning atlast. The silence in that bed-room was divine. But the moment I eased the clamp even a tad, her nose would start complaining and snarling again. Fucking bitch of a nose I shant let you win though I screamed. And so I got up, pulled sweetie back onto me in that cuddling position, wrapped her arms tightly around me in a death embrace, her face and thus that wretched bitch of a nose got buried in my chest, and finally I had shut that nose up for good.. I had won, the silence was again blissful.

But then the table fan began its sweep. With dreaded eyes I saw the hairs getting aroused and at that moment I knew I was a beaten man.