tengo una amiga sevillana que me confiesa que lo que mas le gusta del arte taurino son los bultos de los pantalones de los toreros. ella los mide y los compara. su matador favorito no es el que mas orejas de toros tenga en cada temporada ni el que salga en mas portadas de
hola! sino el del bulto mas grande. y cuando va a las corridas siempre espera a ver si el toro le mete el cuerno por el culo al hombre. eso es morbo o maldad pero sexo no es. tampoco es amor al deporte. otro amigo me cuenta que a el le fascina el tennis femenino solo por las sayitas cortas, los muslos largos y las tetas saltando; y ya a medio juego, ver a las contrincantes cansadas gimiendo, quejandose, gritando con cada raquetazo. miren, que no los culpo. yo en las olimpiadas sintonizaba el voleibol de playa para ver las papayas, algunas hasta mojadas vayase a ver si de sudor o algun fluido mas. me importaba un rabano el saque, el remate o el equipo que estuviera jugando: todas estaban buenas. claro que algunas mas papayuas que otras. en fin, el deporte excita. yo me altero cuando veo correr a mi vecina rubia. y no por la indumentaria porque pienso que si corriera vestida de monja me alteraria mucho mas. quizas es la cadencia del trote y sus ojos azules. dicen que hay damas britanicas muy serias que van a ver el polo solo por los caballos. lo creo. uno nunca sabe con que se provoca la gente. yo tuve una novia que se ponia cuando veia 2 hombres fajados. el dia que la lleve a ver lucha greco-romana se vino en las gradas. son deformaciones del caracter. cuando la indague me confeso que al abracarse los veia mordiendose las orejas o haciendo un 69. imagino que por eso mismo inventaron la lucha en el fango entre mujeres en bikini; al final enfangadas no se ven los bikinis, parecen desnudas y es un cuadro de tortilla. la doble intencion es la clave. porque si uno se pone profundo, hasta el golf. ese pasatiempo tan aburrido puede resultar erotico. un palo, una bola, un hueco. gana quien mas huecos logre con menos palos; y pierde aquel que se pase todo el tiempo dandole palos al mismo hueco. digamos que es el sentido de la vida.
©varela
i have this female sevillian friend who confesses me that what she likes the art of bullfighting due to the packages on the pants of the bullfighters. she measured and compare each one. her favourite matador is not what most bulls ears takes each season or which more appears in the covers of hello! but the most large bulk. and when she go to the corrida always wait to see if el toro gets the horn in the ass of el hombre. that is morbid or evil but is not sex. neither is love of sport. another friend tells me that his fascination is women's tennis only by the short-skirts, the long thighs and the jumping tits; and 'cause a half-game, sees the opponents tired moaning, complaining, crying out with each racket hitting the ball. look, i don't blame them. during the olympics games i tuned the beach volleyball to see the papayas, some were wet so go to see if from sweat or any other fluid. i don't cared about the throw, the server or the team were playing: they were all good. of course that some better papayas than others. in the end, the sport excites. i did change when i see my blond neighbor running. and not by the clothing because i think that if she runs dressed as a nun i was altered much more. maybe is the trot cadence and her blue eyes. it says that there are very serious british ladies that go to see the polo only for the horses. i believe so. you never know with what people gets provoked. i had a girlfriend that turned on when watched 2 men fighting. the day that took her to see greco-roman wrestling she came in the stands. there are deformations of the character. when asked her confessed me that seeing them embraced each other was as they were biting their ears or doing a 69. i guess that's why they invented the mud fight between women in bikini; at the end all mired the bikinis are not seen, and seem naked in a lesbian session. the double intention is the key. because if one goes deep, up to golf. this so boring pastime can be erotic. a shaft, a ball, a hole. wins who more holes achieves with less shafts; and loses the one that passes all the time giving shaft to the same hole. let's say that it's the meaning of life.©varela
