After a post or two, all blogs feel old. You stuff them with drama, trivia, sleaze, graphic imagery and also what Moonface identified as the bare anatomy of the unsaid. Now Moonface is my favourite reader and we share a history of gushing which may not be 5,000 years old but it IS predicated on a sense of shared adrenaline moments. So when Moonface read the previous post, he returned Being Queer among Queers like a slightly disgruntled yet loyal movie buff. The thing with Moony baby is that he knows, exactly what it takes to add oomph to a blog bulge and so I must write a sequel, notwithstanding the fact that I wrote one and it was washed out in a high tide of internet connectivity which suddenly didn't register my precious investment in textual shagging.

So with a click-turn-click, I open the the duplex closet and look around for traces of sleaze and walk barefoot on the floors of fucking. So back to Q1 (pseudo butch, drama-hater, generous) and Q2 (cosmetic queen, bitchy, whiny) and what happened between them. Oh wait, let me throw in a bit of context before I milk the conclusion. Q1 and Q2 have privately and separately confided in me as to how they were not each other's type. Q1's problem was Q2 wore his queen contours on his cut-sleeves while Q2 hated Q1's guts because he was so butch that being gay was a disgusting thing. Q2 had even invented a new form of homophobia for Q1. The dynamic was fine on the outside but they both used me as a cushion to punch each other. However, there was a twist in the tale which was preventing their hard-ons from responding to each other. Gaylore has it that Q1 and Q2 shared an intimate moment of innocent touching which Q2 later narrated to me through giggles, omitting a significant amount of detail. On my insistence, he pretended like a Bollywood Diva prepped up in pinks and purples and said Oh it was nothing! But I know Q2 better than that. He usually shoves a spade when he needs a spade up his. But in this case, he desisted, causing me to take a firm authorial stance which allows me to reconstruct that moment when Q1's toe and Q2's buttcrack went first base.

It was a perfectly queer setting. A FabIndia rug was spread on the floor while a dim lantern exuded its warm glow to ensure general visibility in the room. Q1 was surrendered supine on the mattress, reading passages from the Missing Boyfriend Omnibus at which Q2 had chortled a bitchy Fuck him and then chortled some more But how? At this Q1 had pouted his butch shark face while Q2 was generally getting tickled by the dyke comedian Margaret Cho's humour delivered straight from the deep freezes of her vagina. Q1 groaned while Q2 moaned and without realizing they were dangerously placed in each other's sexual vicinity. Now for all of Q2's own perception of his undesirability, there is his butt-dom that has had many a privileged visitor that left moaning for more. So when Goddess made Q2, she fixed the sexiest posterior on him and said, No matter how shitty life gets, your ass will get you out of it. And here to make it binding, I make you a gay! But then our Goddess, in her feminist coup over God hadn't perfected the procedures of giving gifts. So she made the mistake of slipping Q2 through  a Catholic vagina. And Q2 in all his innocence thought his closet was a place where you dried your underwear. Until one day, the cum stains on his brief deepened with his guilt about man-meat fantasies.

While Q1 had arrived at the main door of his closet through the labyrinthine route of encounters with uncles, older cousins and generally fair-complexioned men whose milk of human horniness had kept him well-lubricated. But then here they were, together on the site of a sexual accident whose acknowledgment was an embarrassing ode to Q1's manliness and Q2's well-pruned taste in boy-flesh. So on that mattress that I inherited months later, and wondered! happened the first contact of callused skin and hair-removed soft bum. As Q1 stretched on the bed, and Q2 shook with seismic hilarity causing the distance between Q1's toe and his butt-crack to diminish. Now for Q2 below the belt was an ideology and hence, he only wore low-waist shorts that lent his butt a larger-than-wife's aura. Now the sight/site of a shapely butt cracking in the middle is all Q1 had needed to transfer his tensions to make it a temporary home for his toe that had been itching of its own volition to rub against the crack and feel its moist vegetation. It was a new romance as Q1's toe and Q2's butt crack developed independent sexual agency no longer depending on the penile pops and prostate pounds. The toe's very existence symbolized a hard-on given its dead skin and a wannabe phallic structure. The butt-crack on the other hand had always been a gracious hostess making way for rubber-suited visitors to reach their prostate mistresses. But tonight, it had been cruised by a toe, the very useless toe with the most limited functionality for human body. I mean a toe only mattered when a foot fetish feaster ventured by. And the butt-crack was pleased that the toe curled its nose at the thought of going deeper, that it just wanted to stay there and swipe its credit card through it and make generous donations for no (ble) cause whatsoever.

But then knowing Q1 and Q2, this toe-butt-crack fling was rather ill-matched. Q1's toe was a South-Indian node, dark and dry while Q2's ass was a Convert Protestant with the charitable ethic of giving itself selflessly. Now several minutes had passed and the toe was getting rather randy at the butt-crack's peeping from inside Q2's low waist shorts. Both kept repositioning themselves on the bed to facilitate this South-South collaboration but given Q2's posterior spread and Q1's supine posture on that small bed, it was getting difficult to maneuver unless....?

And then it happened! The lantern began to blink while the wind blew outside as voltage fluctuation threw in uncertainty over the next few seconds sexual denouement and then there it was...the most joyous moment in the life of molesters, a POWER CUT. But the light from the laptop continued to spread its asexual glow over the scheme of things. Now Q1 and Q2 were both thrilled, their hearts in their respective mouths but how could the laptop be turned off? Absolute darkness might be suggestive. Q2 sighed as Q1's mind raced. And then he spoke up...

Q1 told Q2 to turn the laptop off because it was old and its battery might get a stroke out of the sheer fear of dark at which Q2, hailing from the family of techno-phobic baboons complied like a hungry bottom and soon the world was a dark place (last it happened was when my hair had met someone else's hair). There was sexual silence. Now what? Now that the atmosphere was conducive for the next stage in evolution of toe-shaped babies with cracks in the center, how were they going to do it? Q2 was getting tired of waiting so he turned to his left and lay down offering a generous helping of his butt to the lusty toe. The shorts were still low-waist and a blanket had suddenly thrown itself on them. I'd like to think that the entire queerdom is located under a blanket which is constantly shrinking. So, as a consequence everyone is bound to do everyone else. But now concentrate, Moonface doesn't like my deviating.

So, the toe trying to break free from the rest of the foot struggled hard while the butt-crack ached of its own chink in the cheeks. The distance in human terms was only a few centimeters but it's not often that a toe and a butt-crack want to engage in primitive anal philandering which couldn't go deeper because somewhere Q2's butt-crack was screaming Andar Matt Jaana ( Moony, I know baby, I know how you feel at this stage). And then as if the world didn't matter. It didn't matter that the crucial distance was being unabashedly traveled. That a friend's toe was going to trek along a friend's butt-crack.  That this was the most adventurous yet debased form of incest. And picture this!

All the sounds in the world died out. Pink champagne glasses experienced a splash with their pink droplets in the air, frozen in time. Butt-cheeks turned red and toenails hardened to simulate an erection. They came in contact and Q2's ecstasy and Q1's moaning face were in the spotlight. The prostate felt it too. As did Q1's size-unknown endowment. They shuddered at this incomplete kitsch form of obscene hintercourse, and decided to exude repellent fluids. Before it could be controlled, the damage had laid itself along the shapeliest butt-crack and now the toe receded before Q3 ala I got home.

Slowly, sound and light were restored to the world. The lantern lit up again, this time in post-coital glow. A butt-crack had lost its virginity while a toe had ripped a nail. It was time to get up and shrug the guilty cum stains off. I stood outside shivering in the cold as I rang the door-bell. It took longer than usual to get in for normal asexual order was being restored. I walked in with my concerned Is everything alright? Q2 giggled as Q1 panicked for I was usually super-fast on the uptake. But I walked to my room yawning in the knowledge of the most inconsequential form of queer sex.