Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Nizo's Erotica Part 1: Un Barbat Adevărat

To celebrate the advent of a sinful summer, politics will take a backseat as the next couple of carnal blog-posts will cover actual episodes of my exciting life. Here’s the first in a multipart series.

Raluca, my charming Romanian coworker goes berserk at the sight of a real man.

You see, my typical day at work involves meeting with a steady stream of visiting (mostly male) sales reps. They litter the parking lot with their oxford-green minivans. The same vehicles they use to transport their 2.5 kids from a previous failed marriage. If one requires an explanation for the high divorce rate, one only has to look at these middle-aged, engineering-degreed, checkered-shirted, bespectacled, nasal-voiced, bald-spotted, rotund drones.


How such men manage to bring a woman to orgasm is beyond my comprehension. No wonder their frustrated wives eventually replace them with plastic battery-operated contraptions - or a UPS delivery boy named Gino.



Fortunately, there is an exception to this pitiable parade of male mediocrity.

Behold the 6-foot-3 beefcake, built like an Abrams tank, with jet-black hair and deep blue eyes.

An ex-sniper in his late-thirties, he rides in once a month on a black Mustang, his potent appeal simmering, gurgling baritonely under a cool, imperturbable surface. He trots into my office, a proud thoroughbred, yet sans an ounce of overbearing machismo. Shaking my hand with a vice-like iron grip, he waits for my signal before seating himself.

At ease soldier. As they say, you can take the man out of the army...

He then pulls out his semi-rigid coaxial cable and executes the customary sales pitch regarding its many virtues. As is the custom, I manually test its firmness and then proceed to closely examine the gleaming bulbous nickel-plated connector tip.



Adonis smiles broadly as I give him an order sizeable enough to keep him happy, but never too much, so as to keep him coming back for more.
On his way out, the jovial ex-sniper shoots a wink at libidinous Raluca, who then sashays her way over and clutches my arm with a perfectly manicured paw. She tilts her head backwards and her big lustful brown eyes roll back into their sockets. A couple of moans and shudders later, she arches her back and cries out:


Wow… Asta Da Barbat Adevărat!
(Now that’s a Real Man)