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Why Eating Street Food Is Like SEX


13 Jun 2016

Bhaiya, paanipuri bees ki khila do! My mouth has been sooooo wet the entire day, for so long that I didn't think I'd live to see this evening. The mere sight of those perfect balls makes my taste buds squirm and tongue twitch so agonizingly. Oh, what wouldn't this slut do to have those balls in her mouth right now? I want to choke on them as I force them inside, sucking, swallowing, and gnawing with utmost precision as the tantalizingly delicious fluid flows into my being, and I lick every last drop off my lips like the nasty little jaljeera-whore that I am. Oh....are you....are you handing that paper plate to me? Ohhhhhh yesssss......yes! Yes! Yes! Aaaaaah my gawwwwwwd....thank you! Thank you Master! Thank you for the...oh! It was for the person standing next to me? Ah, to be teased and then denied so!

My turn comes after the woman next to me has had her fill. The women in this land, line up to have these balls inside them just once. that a dahi phulki you are making? Yes! Yes! Ohhhh yes! Please may I have that thick, white fluid inside me, Master? I promise not to gag! But "dahi khatm ho gaya", you say. Surely the sacred white fluid is reserved for more earnest, sincere, deserving slaves. But ohhhhhh you've poured the jaljeera! That salty, almost golden fluid that I crave! Mmmmmmmmmm...and imli chutney!, chutney zyaada daalna, haan? Make it soooo tangy that my throat is sore the next morning! I hear you calling me, gently resting this perfect creation on my plate. I touch and fondle it with reverence, and put it in my mouth. Holy fuck! The essence of the balls is something that poetry cannot describe! The sinful concoction hits me right in the brain, and sends me deep into subspace. I spiral through an endless universe made of endorphins. I'm going to.....I'm going to.....I'm..... I'm going to burp!!!

I kneel, look you in the eyes, hold up my plate and beg, "Bhaiya, paani pila do!" It isn't surprising how I'm drooling, the dirty slut-kitten that I am, as I shamelessly ask for more of that very fluid that I had taken inside me. A slave's soul can never have enough. The more she has, the more she craves.

And the more she swallows, like a good girl.