Valentine

Again, the world turned red, as if enough blood is not spilled everyday. At least this is harmless. This year for Valentine we spent the night in the Carlton Hotel. Not my first choice given the noise (which I am sensitive too), but we had a good time. The singer Hamzeh had a hoarse voice, he tried to sing but he neighed instead. So the D.J. took charge.
As a bonus, it seems, we had the luck of having a belly dancing item. The belly dancer arrived, a young girl in her twenties. I am not sure whether I can call her a belly dancer, maybe a belly - I could see that - but no a dancer. I am pretty sure I have a better ass shaking skills. The only thing I could think of as I look at her… is a fresh jelly plate coming out of a refrigerator wobbling all over. In fact this is what happens when a DD size is fitted into a C cup. And with all the artless jumping around, you’re bound to see some areola every now and then. Bottom line... a walking disaster, artwise.
And oh… for the first time probably, I select a good Valentine (or any other occasion) present. I am usually bad in that.