Thursday, February 19, 2009

Spa Therapy Session With Brian

"Babe, I found this awesome place. It's disguised as a spa and well, you're really gonna get a massage. You also get a handjob or blowjob. I asked one of the ladies if they do girls and they said YES! So, you wanna check it out tonight? It's just near my place.”

Brian comes in and out of my life. He was my fuck buddy years ago and he disappeared from my life for nearly two years, made a come back last month and arranged a group session for me. In my sexual explorations, Brian served as both mastermind and accomplice. He always thinks of ways to make me happy. The spa is his latest discovery.

For your eight hundred pesos (less than 20 dollars), a masseuse in a bikini will give you a hot or cold shower, a sensual massage and a blowjob. I know of several brothels disguised as spas but this particular spa is different because it will not allow you to have sex with their masseuses. Or so the receptionist claimed. You also don't need to pay extra for a blowjob. It already came with the service.

When Brian and I approached the receptionist, I ogled at the masseuses. I was amazed at how lovely the girls were. They were all wearing floral bikinis and seated on a couch. I hear stories from guys at the office about less attractive masseuses but these girls looked like Playboy Playmates. They are your typical Asian beauties, not very tall but have lean bodies and did not wear too much make up. It was obvious this place specializes in catering to foreigner clients. And before you say I am racist, let me just mention that most American men --or foreign men, in general--whom I know prefer the more exotic Filipina beauty: brown skin, black hair, petite. These women, though, were samples of the more attractive Filipinas.

Brian and I had to choose a girl each. I chose the girl who had fairer skin, sexy legs and shoulder-length hair. She looked shy and young and had an innocence about her that made me suddenly horny. If I prefer my men to be older, I want my women to be younger. Brian wanted us to be together during the shower and in the same room during the massage. The receptionist hesitated but agreed after Brian tipped her with 10 dollars.

Inside the shower, Brian was grinning from ear to ear. The perv immediately started to chat with his girl—a buxom woman in her late twenties who was also very chatty and had a high-pitched laugh. The ladies started to undress us. Brian was naked in an instant and the girl was spraying water on his torso. My girl was smiling shyly and I tried to make her feel comfortable. I wondered if she had done this with a woman before. I wondered if she had even kissed a woman before. This place was designed for men and the girls probably don't get to service women often. To make things easier for her, I undressed on my own, leaving only my bra and panties on. I took her hands and placed them on my waist. She giggled and I found her giggle to be very seductive. I smiled at her and asked her how old she was. She was only 18 (again, readers, you all know how anal I am about age) but she looked more like 16.

Can you help me take off my bra? I asked her. I turned around and she fiddled with my bra and unhooked it. And my panties? She was an obedient little girl and complied. She pulled my panties down and I told her to hold my panties as I stepped out of it.

Brian's eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. His girl was now lathering soap on his body and his cock was standing in attention. He murmured something to the girl and she immediately went down on her knees and took Brian's cock in her mouth. He hissed and said Fuccckkkk....between clenched teeth.

My girl started to spray water on me, first on my breasts, my tummy and then my legs. Holding the shower with one hand, she used her free hand to rub my breasts. Her hands were so soft. I grabbed her hand and pressed them harder on my breast. She was eager to please and took my other nipple in her mouth while her other hand fondled my other breast. I met Brian's gaze and he winked at me.

She lathered liquid soap on my body. With her beautiful, tiny hands, she rubbed my shoulder, gently massaging it. Her face was so close to mine and I can smell her shampoo. I felt light headed. I looked at her cute face and her lips were beckoning to me. I wondered how she would react if I kissed her. I haven't had a woman in a rather long time and this girl was attractive enough for my taste. Her hands were now on my breasts, making circular motions and lightly brushing her fingers against my nipples.

I looked at Brian and his hands were planted firmly on his girl's head. He was humping the girl's mouth mercilessly. The girl's hands were on his thighs, pushing against him as he pushed inside her mouth. Brian is a very rough lover and I could hear the girl gagging. She turned her head sideways so that Brian won't plunge his cock deep into her throat and cut out her oxygen supply.

My girl knelt down in front of me. I spread my legs so she can soap my legs and inner thighs. Her nipples were visible against her wet bra. The outline of her pussy against her wet bikini was an erotic sight. I longed to feel her pussy. I wanted her to feel my pussy against her thigh.

Her hands came so dangerously close to my pussy. She lathered soap on my inner thigh, avoiding my pussy crack to tease me even further. This girl isn't very innocent about girly love.

Still kneeling, she pushed her breasts against my groin, looking up at me with those doe eyes, waiting for my instructions. I held her head and gently pushed her between my legs. She showed me her tongue before devouring my pussy.

Ahhh..A girl's tongue is a magnificent creation. Fingers cannot equal it's skill, a man's tongue cannot mimic the way a woman's tongue gently glides along pussy lips and clitoris. A girl, expert or not in cunnilingus, experienced or not in girly love, can cause a massive electric shock through your groin and spine the moment that tongue touches your clit. There are no bad blowjobs. Some are just better than others. In the same way, all girls know how to lick and cannot be bad at it. It is a natural gift.

This girl had a long tongue, longer than other women I have been with, and she knew how to use it. She pushed her tongue inside my pussy hole, her nose pressed against my clitoris, fucking me with her lovely tongue. In and out, her tongue went..She licked my pussy lips, pulling at the sides with her teeth, lightly. I reached in between her face and my pussy and rubbed my clit, pressing it with my thumb and forefinger. I turned around and offered my asshole to her. She hesitated but then obliged and pushed her tongue inside my hole. I sighed deeply and encouraged her to insert a finger inside my pussy while she tongue-fucked my asshole.

Brian moaned loudly. His body tensed and he held the girl's head firmly in place. He had cum, his first for the night. The girl toweled Brian off and led him to the adjoining room to start on his massage.

I hadn't cum yet. The short time spent showering was not enough to make me cum yet. I asked my girl if they were strict about customers having sex with the masseuse. She said that the spa had strict rules but she wasn't sure if that applied to women as well. I was certain she would make an exception for me.

I pulled her up, and pushed her against the wall. I hastily pulled her panties down to her ankles, not giving her a chance to protest. I looked into her eyes and I didn't see any fear in them. Placing one leg between her legs, I pushed my thigh against her pussy. She did the same and I inhaled sharply when her thigh brushed against my clitoris. I pressed my body against hers and took her lips. She eagerly opened her mouth to me and I took the tongue she offered. We ground our thighs against each other's pussies, my one hand on her neck,the other on her waist as we kissed. She grabbed my ass with both her hands, pushing me closer to her.

We danced to the tune of our lust. Thigh against pussy, breasts on breasts. She leaned down and took my nipple in her mouth, alternating between the two, biting gently. I caressed her body, lingering on her waist, her beautiful ass. Her pussy was warm and wet against my thigh.

Her breath grew short and ragged. She ground her pussy harder against my thigh. Faster, faster, harder and harder. She held on to me, buried her face between my breasts and continued grinding her pussy against my thigh. She was close to cumming...

She shuddered, still riding my thigh, chasing after her orgasm. She threw her head back, started panting and moaning louder and with one final thrust, she came. She collapsed on my breasts again and was still for a moment.

I needed my own release.

I motioned for her to sit down. Stick out your tongue, honey. I offered my pussy to her and she eagerly lapped at my pussy lips. Holding her head in place, I started fucking her mouth and face. My little girl was eager to please. I fucked her mouth and tongue faster. Harder.

I came all over her face. Seeing her face glistening with my cunt juice was too much for me to take. She stood up and I pulled her into a deep embrace, kissing her mouth, licking her face to clean up my cum


When we stepped into the room, Brian was naked on the bed, the girl between his legs and giving him another blow job. His body wasn't oily. He probably didn't get his massage,

But I did get my massage. My girl's hands felt wonderful on my skin and I just can't leave this place without getting my money's worth.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The Marine

You are beautiful .

This night had been beautiful.

And I want to keep it this way.

I want to remember you this way.


Saturday night came around again. Valentine's Day has come and gone. The Marine kept me smiling in spite of myself the entire weekend. My spirits were high, my libido was high but I was content with the few hours we spent talking, flirting on Valentine's night. Sex would have been an inevitable outcome. Were it not for his restraint and my monthly period that came at the most unfortunate date, I would have once again ruined the lovely memories of an acquaintance that, despite being fleeting, left me with a renewed faith in crap like destiny and serendipity.


The bar was full of people. The band's poorly selected repertoire for the night managed to dampen my spirits even further. A fledgling singer croaked the last few notes of Bon Jovi's This Aint A Love Song and the conclusion of the band's one-hour performance was welcomed with astounding applause. An entire crowd's sarcasm proved too much for the bar manager who scurried back and forth taking song requests himself. That one hour was probably the first hour of the end of his career. The crowd was unappreciative. I love Bon Jovi but who would seriously want to listen to lonely love songs on a holiday created solely for the furtherance of hedonistic pleasure? My own legion of single women wanted to listen to R&B and this bar had been famous for the best music mixes of this genre. That night was the worst night to lose these single ladies as customers by having them sit for an hour reminding them they probably won't get laid on the most important night of the year.

These girls had been planning Valentine's night for at least two weeks. It was like planning for a Christmas party except they were more excited about February 14th.

When the first notes of fine R&B music played, the crowd whooped and we gathered on the dance floor. My married lady friend, who came with us seeking adventures with another man for one night, went up the small circular stage in the middle of the dance floor and started dancing. I was terrified she would fall off but also curious to see the outcome of what she considered to be the ultimate form of seduction: dirty dancing by herself. I did not have the heart to tell her off despite the sharp looks my other colleagues gave her. My colleagues begged me constantly to have a word with her but I brushed off their suggestion. I realized she must have felt like a prisoner the whole time she was with her husband and tonight is the night she sets herself free. I don't have a strong opinion on married woman who seek adventures with other men. I am certainly not in the position to judge her. Besides, her dancing didn't attract any men. On this matter, I feel qualified to be a judge but she was having such an awesome time jumping up and down, gyrating her hips stiffly and flipping her long hair thisaway and thataway. Had I been a bad friend for not telling her she looked far from seductive? Certainly not. If I had competed with her, yes, that would have made me a bad friend. Tonight is all about these other single ladies whom I spend at least 10 hours of my life daily. I wish the rest of them would just loosen up and enjoy the night.

Standing just beside the circular stage where the married lady friend attempted to make a fool of herself, sipping on my cocktail, I went into my own zone and started dancing. I must have withdrawn into my own zone for a few minutes, slow dancing and enjoying the music with my eyes closed because when I became once again aware of my surroundings, this tall handsome guy with a body that was totally to-die-for was standing in front of me, his look a mixture of admiration and amusement. He looked very young and I don't like younger men so I just rolled my eyes and turned my back at him, resuming my slow dancing while instantly becoming conscious of how I moved my body. I'm never the shy type but I could almost feel his eyes boring into the back of my head and that wasn't a nice feeling.

I turned around quickly and shouted my question. What do you want?! He said he was just watching me. Go watch someone else! Or pay me if you wanna keep watching! He just smiled at that. This bar is the loudest but...daym, he is so gorgeous. I bit at my lower lip,smiled at him and decided I won't be a bitch tonight and just be nice to him. If only he were a bit older, I'd whisk him out of the bar in a heartbeat.

I moved closer to him, tiptoeing to scream at his ear. I'm Trinity. You are?

Chris (insert German last name).

He didn't shake the hand I offered him. Instead, he pulled me close to him and with his arm wrapped around my waist, we started to slow dance. I didn't complain. My face was just inches from his chest and his fragrance was intoxicating. If I didn't know myself better, I would have said I came right there but I know I didn't. I started thinking Damnit! Why do I have to have my period now?! With my head resting on his chest, his hands touching my bare hips and waist, I felt virginal, like I was in high school and he was my prom date.

I would ruin this romantic grinding of groin against groin just to ask him for his age. And I did just that because I'm totally anal about older men. I looked up at him and he understood I wanted to ask him something. He offered his ear to me gingerly. Above the din, I asked him how old he is. He told me he was 92 and I said What are you? Another Benjamin Button?

Another smile. He was melting my heart. He told me he was 34. American (check), 34 years old (check). Marine(check check check!). Perfect. Now only my period is standing in the way of my dream lay for the month.

A few more moments of dancing with him—sometimes slowly, sometimes seductively and other times,depending on the music, we just jumped up and down, laughing at our craziness—we decided to step out of the bar for fresh air. I said goodbye to my other colleagues who had been watching me and Chris all this time. I couldn't find the married lady friend. At some point, I just stopped caring what she did. I figured she had either gone to the restroom or met someone and is now making out in the restroom.

Outside the bar,there were groups of annoying drunk people laughing at their own silly little jokes and jeering at passersby. I felt safe with my very own Marine. The real Trinity took a backseat and refrained from making untoward (read:slutty) advances. I thought Why not be a darling tonight?

The next few hours went by like a blur. When you're enjoying someone's company so much, you hardly feel the hours tick by, you don't hear your cellphone ringing and you don't care about your surroundings. We joked a bit, talked about my work at the magazine, his life as a marine and discussed a few relationship idiosyncrasies. I wasn't skeptical, didn't think he was lying to me like I usually would when meeting people for the first time. This cynicism didn't have a place in my mind. I looked at Chris in a whole different light and never, for one second, did I think that he has probably fucked so many Asians in his foreign assignments.

By dawn, we felt like we have know each other for a month. His arm was around me and my head was on his shoulder. My hand was on his while we continued talking about random stuff under the sun. It was such a beautiful feeling to have someone to talk to on a night where everyone else's goal was to get laid (myself included, irregardless of my period). It was refreshing not to want to have sex with him that night because being with him was beautiful enough and I didn't want to ruin our moment. It wasn't only because I had my period. There are other ways Chris and I could derive sexual pleasure from each other. If he was into ass fucking, then we would easily manage to check into a motel for the next three hours. If he wasn't into ass fucking, I'd give him a blowjob inside a taxi cab while driving around the city for 30 minutes. But, no.

There, under the starless sky, among a throng of drunk teenagers, unhappy, married women seeking sexual adventures and single ladies in their late twenties eternally pining for that elusive lover, I felt lucky to have Chris even if it was just one night.


Soon, it would be time to go. It will be time to let go of Chris. His fellow Marines stumbled outside the bar, girlfriends in tow. For a moment, I couldn't believe my eyes. The Marines were with my colleagues, hand in hand with their partner, the others kissing torridly while onlookers observed curiously. I smiled in spite of myself. This night hadn't been such a waste of their time.

I saved the most important question for that moment just before saying goodbye to him. I turned to Chris. When are you leaving? He said they'll be flying to California by noontime the following day. There was no way I'd get to fuck Chris.

His friends saw him,waved and told him they were going. They said their goodbyes to their girlfriends for the night. Up until that time, Chris and I hadn't kissed. I looked at him, my eyes imploring.

He kissed me. Just one soft kiss on the lips.

We didn't break eye-contact. His hand was still on my waist, my lips were still slightly parted, and his breathing was still ragged. He took my lips again and this time, it was a passionate kiss. Our tongues sparred, we were softly biting each others lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulled him close and kissed him with an urgent longing. When he broke that kiss, I was panting. My eyes searched his. I wanted to ask him to take me somewhere and we'll do the best we can with my circumstances. I couldn't say it but I guess he understood.

His lips traced the outline of my jaw, sending electric shocks up and down my spine. He whispered to me:

You are beautiful . This night had been beautiful. And I want to keep it this way. I want to remember you this way.

And with that, he kissed me one more time, let go of my embrace and walked towards his friends.

Can I find you on FaceBook? I shouted after him. He turned around and smiled at me. He nodded his head and then went on his way.


The married lady friend had sent me a message at 1 am saying she was headed home. I didn't read it until 6 am. By that time,us, single ladies were eating voraciously at this breakfast joint just near the club that was popular for its tapsilog. Uncombed hair, smudged make up and looking totally disheveled, we stopped caring about appearances. The ladies happily exchanged their stories, each one trying to outshine the other's sexy story. I silently chewed my fried rice. I thought about Chris's beautiful smile and wondered if I would see him again.

I haven't looked him up in Facebook but I know he is on there after doing a Google search. Would I "friend" him in Facebook? Or should I wait for him to find me? I think I'd go for the latter. But I am notoriously impatient....

If we meet again, serendipitously, y'all will know about it.

Saturday, February 14, 2009


I reached out my hand,
Into the darkness, so helplessly.
I searched, yet not one did I find,
I touched, yet not once did I feel

Blind, my eyes and heart in the dark.
I feel so cold and unwanted;
I weep and ask the eternal darkness:
When? When will I truly feel?

This warmth I've been longing for.
Will I forever stay in this unlit crevice,
Where hearts are cold and passionless
Where love is strange, affection unheard?

I ran, I searched, I broke the spell
Of this gloomy dusk wrapping my heart.
I want to love, to live, to feel;
Your love, your ardent touch.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Don't Forget About Us

I stared at the computer screen, the cursor blinking at the password field. I hesitated, telling myself he is a part of the past I have buried, left behind. I had no acceptable reason to scrape at the old scars that took at least a year to heal. My curiosity took the better of me like it always does and I typed in the password he has entrusted to me some years ago, knowing all too well he hadn't changed it.

He was a lost soul, misunderstood, the kind of man who is both mysterious and yet an open book. Everyone knows his life but no one really understands the reasons behind his actions. Many times he had lost himself in his addiction to liquor, struggling to keep a job and his self-confidence. He tells me his life had been a failure. At 25, he couldn't be too far gone. There was hope for change. And I threw myself at his feet, convincing myself that if he had me, he had a better chance of coping with his issues. I had been wrong, oh so wrong.

His morbid outlook about life fascinated me, as if his own confusion about where his life is headed made my own issues less disturbing. For once, I found a man who opens his heart to me, tells me what he thinks, what he feels and allows me access to the innermost, darkest and most disturbed crevices of his mind. That he was more messed up than me made me feel like I was a better person, a person who could change him, mold him into a better model of himself.

We spent nights drinking together, pouring our hearts out as profusely as we poured liquor to our glasses. At bars, he would unceremoniously punch a man if he had the slightest suspicion that the helpless guy had been checking me out. I didn't stop him. He was overprotective because he owned me. The guy who ogles at his woman deserved his fist. It was the right thing to do. I was prohibited to look sexy, lest he get caught up in another fist fight with some drunk who looks my way. I found myself enjoying his power over me, staking his claim over me as his woman wherever we are and to whoever dared ask.

Sex with him was dark and rough, almost emotionless and oftentimes the culmination of a drunken spree we both engaged in. There was no conversation during sex, there was little foreplay and we fucked usually with our clothes still on our bodies. We rarely kissed and we didn't care. Our lust for each other was enough to make me wet and make him hard. Inside his car, or in my apartment, wherever he felt the need to take me, he would claim me. I loved the aggression, loved the way he spreads my legs forcefully, pulling my panties to the side frantically and with an urgency that made me feel dizzy. When he buries his cock inside me and humps away like I was a whore whom he didn't have to please, I grow more excited.

I knew he loved me. You ask me how I know, I really cannot answer. There is a kind of love you cannot understand, that you don't have to explain to know it really exists between you and another person. You just know it's there. That we needed each other was an irrevocable truth and I feel it when he comes home to me at night, holds me in his arms, holds me tight like there is no tomorrow. I feel it when I look for his face in a crowd of strangers, when I feel him around me even if he isn't there, when he occupies my thoughts every waking hour of my life.

Jealousy was a constant in the relationship. Apparently, I am not the only woman attracted to a man with issues. My obsession over him drove me to the extremes, demanding for his time more and more, wanting him near me all the time. I demanded access to all his personal information, held on to his passport, his ID's and account information as if this would prevent him from ever leaving. It didn't bother him. We owned each other.

But the bindings we created for each other consumed us and became my heart's undoing. He struggled to break free from me. The night he left, he had left me a message on our bed.

I will never forget you. Don't forget about us. I love you.

For over a year since he left me, I hacked his emails. He had traveled to another country for work and there is a girl waiting for him in the Philippines, waiting to be with him soon. I had followed their love story, reading the emails they exchanged and recreating the story of their love. She loved him and he loved her. They had plans to be together...and to get married someday. I looked for him, emailed him for nearly a year but my imploring messages fell on deaf ears. I continued to follow his life, lurking in his email and reading the messages the woman sent him even before he got to read them.

I stopped hurting myself after a year. I had been obsessed with claiming him again but every desperate email I sent him took him a step further away from me. I tried to forget I even knew his password...

News of his upcoming marriage reached me just today...and I hacked into his email, promising to do this just one last time to find closure. He had proposed to her. A jubilant email was sent to the few friends he had in the Philippines, saying he is marrying by mid this year.

I should be happy for him. I think I am. I know he hasn't forgotten me. And neither will I.


There is a kind of love you cannot understand, that you don't have to explain to know it really exists between you and another person.Maybe this girl saw Jay for what he really is and he loved her even more for that. I thought I was going to change him into someone better, someone better for me. The girl he is marrying loves him for what he is. I read about their fights. He begs her to take him back. She is won over. It is a vicious cycle of fights, break ups and make ups and they went at it for over a year. She persevered for him and he endured for her. Despite their distance, their love survived. I wish both of them happiness, the happiness I thought I would find in Jay.

I was wrong, oh so wrong.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

One Night

Saturday night, February 7th

Saturday is a welcome relief. It is that day when stress becomes a thing of the past and whatever bad memories the week before had wrought on me can now be replaced with something more interesting, less appalling. Whatever the outcome of this weekend, it is a step away from the Doctor. And so, I welcomed the surprises that the night has prepared for me.

A dinner was in order and I dearly wished I had declined. Sitting across him in a restaurant for an hour was not a chore, just unnecessary. Conversation over mundane subjects during dinner is obligatory and I didn't feel there was a need to get intimate about each other's personal lives. I did not like questions, choosing to conceal facts about me or just answering "
secret" to his inquiries. On a first and most likely our last date, there was no need to reveal my life story. I had him talk about himself instead, murmuring mmm or oh really or that's interesting in between his sentences. My disinterest wasn't obvious. I made sure I smiled throughout the evening. There is nothing wrong about him or the dinner or that he wants conversation. Drinks would have sufficed, a few tequila shots would have set the mood in less than five minutes.

His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, my lips pressed against his neck just below his ear. I let my tongue slide on his earlobe, once, twice. I started to unbutton his shirt.
I think it's best we stop talking now. In fact, let's not bother with personal stuff. The bit of you that's interesting to me is this one right here. His burgeoning hard on was straining inside his pants. He wrapped his arms around my waist this time, pulled me so close he almost crushed me, then planted a wet kiss on my lips. My place is a bit far. Let's just start right here, he told me between kisses. The driver couldn't keep his eyes on the road and I thought it won't hurt to let him see a bit of action right here. His kiss was torrid and invasive, sucking on my tongue and biting my lower lip. His touch was rough, aggressive and urgent, hands undecided on what to explore first.

As soon as he closed the door to his apartment, he pinned me against the wall, holding each of my wrists, restraining my movement. He dived between my breasts, running his tongue on my skin. He placed himself between my legs and ground his cock against my pussy.

Leading me upstairs to his bedroom and taking two steps at a time, he had a smile that made him look years younger. He looked like a child eager to open his present. I was laughing, trying to keep up with him.
I think we should freshen up, he said, motioning to the door of his bathroom. We started to undress each other, kissing the skin revealed by every piece of clothing we shed off. Brushing his lips against my shoulder as he pulled the straps down, licking my breasts and sucking on each of my nipples as my bra came undone. When my dress fell on the floor, he drew in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly. He said something in Spanish. Although I didn't understand it, I recognized bonita. I asked him how he learned Spanish and he told me he had picked it up from his friends in L.A., having lived there for nearly 40 years.

He guided me to the bathroom. The water was cold and I shivered, pressing my body against his. This night, he started out as very aggressive which led me to believe both of us will only cum once and this will all be over in an hour, maybe less. But then he took his time. Under the light, steady flow of water, we explored each other's bodies with our hands and lips. He held my face with both hands and gave me perhaps one of the closest imitation to a woman's kiss.

I turned to face the bathroom wall. He was behind me, kissing my nape, shoulders, my back, my butt. I bent over and he knelt down behind me, pulled my ass cheeks apart, and pressed his tongue against my asshole.One hand touching my breasts, pinching my nipples and the other reaching out behind me, I pushed his head closer, spread my legs wider, forcing him to stick his tongue deeper inside me. I watched myself in the mirror, aroused by the sight of my nudity, bent over and tortured with pleasure by this stranger. We spent a long time under the shower, kissing, exploring. This foreplay was slow and sweet and many times he would whisper his appreciation of my body. We exchanged several knowing smiles, the kind that told each other we were both enjoying this slow, sensual seduction. He wasn't in a hurry to penetrate me, nor was I in a hurry to feel him inside me.

Without need for towels, we stepped out of the shower still dripping wet. Sitting on the side of his bed, legs apart, he told me to crawl towards him. I did my best to look cat-like yet very feminine and seductive. When I reached him, he kissed me on the lips once and told me to take it down your throat. He gathered my wet hair with one hand and then pushed my head down between his legs. I eagerly opened my mouth and forced his tool down my throat. His hand was planted firmly on my head, controlling the movement and speed of my mouth up and down his shaft . Several times, he forced his tool down my throat and allowed me to gag on it for a few seconds, taking my breath away. When he allowed me to pull his cock out of my mouth, spit was dripping from the side of my lips. I spat on his cock and devoured it again. He murmured his encouragement. He laid on his bed moments later and I crawled on top of him to a 69. We lingered in this position for moments more, listening to each other's sighs and moans whenever our mouths and tongues hit a certain pleasure spot. He shivers beneath me every time I lick his balls. I rocked my ass back and forth, achieving the right speed and force of his tongue on my clitoris that was necessary for me to orgasm.

I felt my orgasm slowly building up and I stopped sucking on his dick so I can straddle his mouth and watch him when I cum. I'm cumming.....I told him between ragged breaths.

I faltered, fell down beside him, savoring the remnants of my orgasm. He wasted no time to flip me over to my side, taking me from behind in a spooning position. He lifted my right leg and pushed his cock inside my still throbbing pussy. His thrusts were deep and very urgent. With his face pressed against my nape, breathing hard and thrusts that were faster and shallower this time, I knew he was so close to cumming.

He pulled his cock out quickly and I turned to face him, kneeling between his legs to suck on his balls while he beat furiously at his meat. Swallow it, he tells me. I wrapped my lips around his cockhead and received my prize for the night...


We stayed up through dawn fucking and talking. In between sex, he talked to me about his life. He wasn't yet divorced, just separated, and he has a toddler. He talked about his business and I found myself asking him questions, eager to know more about this stranger. I still refused to talk about myself but rather enjoyed listening to his voice and watching his lips as he spoke instead of looking into his eyes.

We finally fell asleep in each other's arms. I dozed off wondering why I decided to spend the night...even more, I wondered why I enjoyed sleeping in his arms when I can just pull the covers over my head, turn away from him and close my eyes.

In the morning, I refused his offer to take me home himself and settled instead to have his driver take me back to my place, promising to send him a message as soon as I arrived. The Saturday night had been beautiful and I fear it might turn out the same way with the Doctor. It was wonderful when it happened yet it was fleeting like a shooting star. Now, days later, I am thinking of changing my number. His persistence at seeing me again is irritating to the point of being....sweet and romantic. But, who the hell am I kidding?

Friday, February 6, 2009

Cyber Perversion

Sleep flitted. I can never hold on to it.
I drift in and out of slumber. I close my eyes, maybe go away to dream land for a few minutes but I can never stay there. I am restless. And craving for sex.

I am hungry, furious and agitated. Like a vampire reduced to feeding on cattle instead of humans, I have settled for the seduction of perverts online to feed my fantasies and my orgasm has been less intense. This week, I spent my nights lurking in chat rooms and networking sites, hunting. For some frustrating reason, the strangers who usually would eagerly jump at the chance of meeting up with a woman on the same night have turned down my suggestion to hang out for drinks, asking me out for a date instead on a weekend.

But this cannot wait until the weekend. I do not want to spend one more night this week with my dildo.

Porn helps and so do the dick and cum shot pictures that I have collected, sent by men from halfway across the world, men who have craved my body but rendered helpless because of the distance. Had they been here, I would have fucked all of them. My fascination for huge dicks and older men have prevented me from desiring a relationship with a local. Except for a few Filipinos whom I fucked and luckily were hung enough in an Asian sort of way, I have very rarely lusted over a local. Small dicks disgust me. I'm a bitch for saying that but I'm sure you wouldn't mind someone so hung. Expatriates are my specialty and I crave every handsome and huge foreigner I see. I have fantasized about a group of foreigners with gigantic dicks fucking me. Just writing that sentence conjured scenes from Belladonna's and Sasha Grey's porn movies. Sasha is my favorite porn star. Just in her teens and fucking the hottest older porn stars. My dream is to be like her. Belladonna, on the other hand, is the woman I hope to be when I'm older.

Peter's dick and cum shot pictures are part of my more recent acquisitions. His cock is beautiful. I have imagined myself choking on it. From the 'pictures and the few emails we have exchanged, I could tell he is a man-slut, too. I can't wait for him to come to the Philippines. In the meantime, cyber sex with him would have sufficed. Yet, even that is risky. He met me through this blog and revealing myself to him on cam will jeopardize my anonymity. Pete, I hope you understand when you read this post that in as much as I want to fuck you through high-speed internet, I just cannot. It is torture for me, too.

Can I see you? This expat sends me a message on YM. We had exchanged a few text messages this week after he found me online. His cam was already turned on and I accepted his invitation to view mine. Can I see your face? he added. I adjusted the cam so he can see me. We exchanged a few messages, talked about the weather a bit and about my work.

This guy was definitely an online perv but I can tell he was testing the waters, trying to determine if I also indulged in cyber sex. The dynamics of cyber sex have always fascinated me. The men I chat with always start out as that nice, sensitive guy who wants to know about me and my life. Or pretends to be interested in me. Sure, women love to talk about themselves and so far, these online pervs know how to use that to their advantage. It's as if letting me talk about myself will set me in the mood. I am already in the mood. But I allowed him to do what he wanted. He asked lots of questions, hinted about sex once in a while, asked me about past relationships, my favorite wine. Boring. Boring. Boring. The inner exhibitionist in me was yearning for release.

Casual talk dragged on for about an hour and I was already getting sleepy. He asked me if I liked sex. What is wrong with you? Doesn't every woman like sex? I told him I did and that I probably enjoyed and had more sex than other women he has known. He said it was impossible. Hahaha. (Smiley) It's true, I told him. We talked about favorite sex positions, an appetizer for cyber sex. He asked me how many I have fucked and I told him he doesn't want to know the answer to it. I told him I liked women, anal, role play and have had group sex.

You're a fascinating woman,
he tells me. I have never met anyone like you. Not every woman can be so open about their desire for sex, at least not the women I have chatted with. Sure, I've fucked some who were real sluts but they don't talk about it much and they haven't done as much. Bullshit. I have heard that far too many times before. That I am someone unique from other women he has known is totally crap. You haven't been looking in the right places, I told him.

Are you shaved? I like women with some hair on their pussy as long as it's nicely trimmed.

I told him I was gonna show him and he can tell me if my pussy looked any less beautiful without hair. The perv couldn't contain his joy. Yes!!!!!!!, he typed. I stood up, removed my lace underwear slowly, giving him a show. I showed him my ass first and then, placing the laptop between my legs, I showed him my bald cunt, my wet pussy lips.

Wow. That was all he could say.
Some men are better with words than others. This guy was nothing like Errant Gosling (I'm not hinting we have had cyber sex but I would love to) and the next messages he sent with the intention of arousing me further totally missed the mark. I have chatted with men who can seduce me with their words and that is certainly the most important thing for me in cyber sex, next to nudity and mutual masturbation.

He showed me his cock, too. It was okay, not too huge but the cockhead was damn fine. It was curved upwards a bit, not totally straight unlike the Doctor's. There were large veins, purplish, engorged in blood. He was already hard. I told him to focus his cam on the cockhead so I can see it better, so I can imagine myself gagging on it. He did so and I saw precum oozing from his piss hole. Stroke it..At this point, I didn't want to type anything. I decided all I needed was a visual and I can let my imagination run wild.

Sprawled on the floor, my laptop between my legs and as close to my pussy as is possible, I started to masturbate for him. He did the same, stroking his cock, typing a few messages every now and then to encourage me. I didn't bother reading. I watched him beat at his meat furiously then slowly, stroking the shaft with one hand and holding his balls with the other. I bent over, pressed my ass closer to the cam. I pulled my asscheeks apart, showing him my tight hole.
I finger-fucked both my holes, one finger inside my pussy and another in my asshole. I was desperate for my dildo but it was nowhere within my reach.

A few more minutes later, I watched as he ejaculated, spraying his cum on a piece of cloth. He came so quickly. I hate this about cyber sex. I hadn't cum yet but decided I would spend more time masturbating after this chat. I was aroused more by my exhibitionism and his voyeurism than by the thought 0f
sex itself.

I wasn't completely satisfied. I wished he had been better with words, wished he hadn't cum so quickly. At least I have something to look forward to this Saturday, though. I liked watching him masturbate, loved the thought that I had made him cum so quickly. But I haven't had my own release. Saturday night will find me riding his cock to seventh heaven. He wasn't good with words but I'm still hopeful he is better with his tongue, hopeful he wouldn't cum as quickly.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Bitching at Fellow Bitches

The week went by so slowly.

Paperwork started piling up. A press conference for the magazine. A party for the promotion of this girl in the office to a position I have been competing with her for a year now. And the bitch bagged it. I had to mentally cover her face with that round, yellow smiley posted on my computer so I could feel less horrible about her getting that promotion instead of me. Bitch. Bitch!!! I'm sure if I slept with the boss before she did, I would be the one gloating about my new position. Instead, there she is, basking in the praises of people who I'm sure meant their kudoses just as sincerely as I did. Slut. A cheaper slut than me for sleeping with the boss just to get to where she is. I just don't shit where I eat. And won't fuck an ugly perve like the boss. Everyone knows she fucked the boss...and she knows everyone knows it.She doesn't care. I'm a bitch for bitching about this and a coward for not taking what's rightfully mine in this office.

Friday night was spent on the usual productive things: downing glass after glass of martini, while flirting with this expat who called himself Matt, whispering about how we were gonna fuck each other's brains out. Under the table, he stroked my thigh and I murmured my approval. I groped his crotch but I wasn't really sure if his dick was as big like he bragged it to be. Matt wasn't even his real name. His friends called him a different name when they thought I wasn't listening. Losers. So when it was time to give him my number, I gave him the wrong one.When he dialled the number to make sure he got it right and he discovered that the number wasn't in service, I just smiled knowingly and slurred my farewell. Well, Matt--if that is even your real name--have a good night, a good life and I'm not fucking tonight. Sure, I wanted to fuck him. When I walked out the door, my feet betrayed me and I made my way dizzyingly accross the room, bumping against everyone in my way and mumbling my apologies. It was a good thing I didn't frequent this bar. And if I did, I probably won't come back. I made such a mess of myself that night. And all this is because of that bitch who got her promotion by sleeping with the ugly perve we called our boss. Damn her.There are very few things I have wanted for myself this past few months, that promotion being one of them. Damn her. Damn that ugly perve.

Late Saturday morning, I was sitting at the coffee shop where I spent too many mornings chatting with my Doctor. I was still feeling fuzzy from last night's hang over. Slouched low on my chair, an open book in my hands, but I wasn't reading, just staring into space. I thought about the blogs I have missed this week, the emails I haven't responded to, the online pervs I haven't chatted with...random things spilled in and out of my head.

The American Doctor stepped into the coffee shop. Shocked at his unexpected presence, I quickly straightened up in my seat, ran my fingers through my hair and re-arranged the expression on my face. He hadn't been in this coffee shop for weeks or at least not during the times that I grabbed my coffeee before getting to work, looking out for him. I hadn't expected him to be there because I don't stalk him here on Saturdays. I felt proud thinking about that. My heart thumped. Oh, shit, he came here for me. He's gonna get me my favorite coffee and call me to say he's coming up. Oh shit. Did I brush my teeth?

But he sat down in a corner table, his eyes scanning the room. Looking at his cellphone, checking out his watch and glancing at the door, it was clear he hadn't come for me. He was waiting for someone. Maybe a patient. Or a friend. But my gut told me he was here for a girl. I held on tightly to my book as if this would save me from some terrible truth. He still hadn't seen me.

When this curly haired, dark skinned and petite Filipina came in, wearing clothes in colors that didn't match and a style that wasn't appropriate for the daytime, the Doctor walked up to her and with a huge smile in his face--huge enough to swallow the small Filipina whole--he bent down really low to kiss her on the cheek.

This-----aeta (Google it)! this fashion victim!-- is my competition?! What the fuck? Of all the crazy reasons and all the time I tortured myself over him and wasted blog space writing about him, I actually got dumped because of this girl? I know I looked fab, sexier, smarter, prettier. Wait, there isn't even any point of comparison.Payback time. I have been too angry this whole week. I have lost a promotion to a bitch. The Doctor had this one coming and so he will get it.

When I walked towards him and his new girl, I recognized that look in his eyes when I caught his glance. He knew I was up to no good but it was too late for him to react.

Book, meet the Doctor. Doctor, this is my Book.

I smacked the back of his head with my book. He couldn't dodge, couldn't even react, couldn't do anything to save face. He was aghast, looking at me, maybe even thinking I was insane. I just smiled at him, looked at his new girl and told her: "Oh yeah, he has 9-inches, loves to assfuck and wants you to call him daddy. I hope you can handle that."

And with that, I walked out of the coffee shop, totally pleased with myself.

Damn that bitch. Damn the boss. Damn that Doctor and damn those exotic and aeta- looking Filipinas! Is it my fault I don't have dark skin and curly hair?!