Thursday, June 10, 2010

One Night With Inna


It’s not that men have disappointed me enough for me to go and play for the other team completely. Men just can’t satisfy all of my cravings and they would be terribly mistaken if they thought they could. Women still play a huge role in my sex life and it was a pity I neglected my search for a partner during these past few months that I have been a dedicated mistress to Ed. The Ed days are over and the days of adventure are back. And it starts with a woman named Inna.

Inna’s message in response to my personal ad wasn’t the most interesting. In fact, there were other more explicit emails than hers. Younger girls described how they would fuck the living daylights out of me and some older women asked me just how good a pussy licker I am. They won’t be around to find out, sadly. Most messages were descriptive, yes. But lacking in imagination.

I chose Inna because she gave me details about herself without overselling her sexual prowess. Before she met her husband, she had been bisexual and came so close to abandoning sex with men altogether. She missed the feel of a woman’s body. It has been too long, she told me.

Out of my desperate need for a woman again, Inna and I agreed to meet right away. Unlike former hook ups, we didn’t get the chance to share fantasies. I didn’t have a clue how to please her so I decided we will just wing it, if we ever make it to my bedroom. I waited patiently at the bar, drink in hand. She would know how to find me-black jeans, backless black top.

I couldn’t conceal my excitement when I saw her making her way towards me. She held my gaze as she came closer. Her short black dress hugged her body in a very flattering way. Her breasts were just the right size, not too saggy, not too perky. And those nice long legs. Mmm, I thought to myself, as I imagined being in between those legs very soon that night. At 35 years old, 13 years of marriage and three kids, Inna was still in great shape. She sat down beside me and without warning nor invitation, gave me a lingering kiss on the lips. I didn’t respond, tried to be cool and composed. When she pulled back, she smiled at me and held out her hand. Introductions were made, for the first time, in person.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her that night. She wasn’t the prettiest I have seen but the mixture of subtle seduction and her sexy confidence made me wonder if she will be my bitch that night or if she will make me her fuck slave. Either way, I couldn’t wait to take her home. While we drank our own choices of poison and danced to the sexy music, the images in my head were of Inna eating my pussy. I imagined this hot, older woman, moaning and shuddering while eating my pussy, as if she had been starving for thirteen years, as if she had never tasted pussy this good. I felt that delicious sensation between my legs thinking about this.

We drove back to my house. Struggling between keeping my eyes open to see the road and shutting them tightly together each time Inna’s finger brushed at the perfect spot on my clitoris was no easy feat. I reached out to her with my other hand but she brushed it away. Keep both hands on the wheel, she whispered to me. She bit my earlobe, tugged at it gently. This fox knew what she was doing.

When the door locks clicked behind us, she moved quickly to me, and I welcomed her into my arms, our lips meeting for just the second time that night. I took the tongue she offered to me, sucked it lightly and tasted the delicious warmth of her mouth. She moaned against my lips, the kind of moan that sends your nerves aflutter, the kind of sound a virgin makes the first time she discovers the pleasure of oral sex. It was a deep, satisfied moan, as if she hasn’t been kissed before, as if she hasn’t been kissed like this before. Maybe Inna does need this more than I do.

I hiked up her skirt and placed my hand between her legs, letting my fingers roam her inner thighs while I watched the expression on her face. “How wet are you?” I whispered to her.

She thrust her pussy eagerly to my waiting hand. “Dripping”, was her reply.

I tugged at her panty and it was on the floor in a second. I unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor then struggled out of my own clothes. Now completely naked, I led Inna to the couch, that fire between my legs now burning hotter than ever. Our tongues exploring, fingers touching, hands grasping, teeth biting, her body warm and soft against mine.

She laid down on the couch and spread her legs before me as if to say, “Come hither. Devour me”.

I haven’t seen nor spoken to Inna since that day. She had begged me never to contact her again as this will resurrect the guilty feeling that replaced the delicious orgasms we both experienced. I could have argued that this will be a discreet relationship and she will have full control of the situation. She can decide when she wants to see me again. I didn’t take it an insult that she only wanted a one-night stand.

There was no doubt in my mind that her screams and the way she held me in the throes of passion were genuine and borne out of extreme need. Perhaps, now that her need has been satisfied, she will go back to being the prim and proper housewife she had been for the past 13 years.

No, I didn’t mind being the person to fulfil that need. Cheating with another woman probably isn't as bad as cheating with another man. It is a lesser evil.

And while I thought of the many housewives out there who are in the same situation—the ones who fantasize of a woman lover-I went back to the responses to my personal ad to look for another Inna.

I will have my hands full of them.





Sunday, May 30, 2010

Serendipity


As if in a movie, I looked across the crowded store and he was standing there, looking at me, too, while the throng of people scurried hurriedly around him.

But unlike in the movie, there won't be music swelling in the background, we won't be running towards each other, pushing through the crowd and when finally we are facing each other, time will stand still and he will ask me, very casually, how I have been. With bated breaths, we will stand looking into each other eyes and a kiss, that elusive kiss, will seal our fate together.

No.

No, there was nothing like that.
**************

Wednesday afternoon.

I am taking the rest of the week off but I won't be leaving for Puerto Galera until Friday. Two more days of not doing anything appealed to me. I would stay up late and wake up at noon. I will have coffee at Starbucks and stay until late afternoon, come home and have dinner then curl up in my sofa to watch some horror movie. I had a very loose schedule for the next two days.

I took some time after work to pick up new movies at my favorite store selling pirated DVD's. It is one of my favorite past times, actually. Ed and I used to come to this place all the time, when life wasn't so complicated and we were in love and sure of what we wanted. We would spend hours poring over endless stacks of movies and TV series, excited about new episodes and reveling at copies of rare movies and bootlegged music and videos. We had so much fun comparing our haul after hours of looking through the piles of DVD's. We have the same taste in adult entertainment and always end up choosing the same porn films.

The place reminded me so much of him. I couldn't help but feel sad because that memory, although vivid, now feels very distant, a memory from someone else's life.

And then, as if in a movie, I looked across the crowded store and he was standing there, looking at me, too, while the throng of people scurried hurriedly around him.

But unlike in the movie, there won't be music swelling in the background, we won't be running towards each other, pushing through the crowd and when finally we are facing each other, time will stand still and he will ask me, very casually, how I have been. With bated breaths, we will stand looking into each other eyes and a kiss, that elusive kiss, will seal our fate together.

No.

No, there was nothing like that.

That part of me that always longed for him had died and in it's place only the memory of a beautiful love remained. Just a memory now. Oh, how I loved him then! Our love had been wonderful. We had a fun run but now that is over and I am moving on.

I turned around and walked away, the way he had walked away from me, without apology, without remorse but with a lightness in my heart knowing that just like walking away now, we had saved ourselves from a much greater pain by ending our love in order for his children to keep their father.

Who said I didn't have a moral compass?





Thursday, April 1, 2010

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday and a cup of instant noodles. There is nothing worth watching on cable TV and flipping channels is getting old.

On Saturday, I leave the city with the few close friends I have to stay for one night in one of the resorts in Subic. At this time of the year, people from the city usually go out of town to a beach resort, a camping trip or a retreat in the mountains with their families and friends. This four-day holiday for the Christian world is supposed to be spent on prayer and meditation, on thinking about your life and reparation for your sins, or at least feel remorse for the wrong you have done and ask for forgiveness from whomever you believe will give you the relief from the burden of sin that you have been carrying.

I was raised a devout Catholic, or rather, by devout Catholic parents. Today, as the Christian world remembers how Christ saved them from sins, I thought about how much I miss my family and wondered how I could have let three years pass without trying to make amends with them.

In nearly three years since I last saw anyone from my family, I have felt less and less an orphan, less and less worried that I might not survive being alone, less and less a part of my former family. In three years, I have relied only on myself and my wits to survive and while I cannot say my personal life has been remarkable, I have managed well on my own. It doesn’t mean I don’t think about them. Surely, I have thought about how they are doing, wondering if my little sister still remembers me, wondering about my parents’ health, wondering if they wonder about me, too. In three years, I have lived my life in sin and I have no remorse for what I have done. If my mother knew what has been happening to me all these years, she will find it more difficult to forgive me. If she knew I haven’t sought God’s forgiveness, will she take me back?

It is on holidays such as Christmas and the Holy Week when the need to reconnect with family becomes stronger. There is this gnawing feeling at the pit of my stomach that makes me nervous and scared that I may never have the chance to go back to my family and seek for their forgiveness.

I don’t have a family, not anymore. It is my pride that prevents me from seeing them again. I ran away, promising myself never to come back until I’ve proven to them that I can survive on my own.

I am still alone. I still don’t belong to anyone. I still don’t know the direction I want to take or where the path I am taking will lead me. I live each day of my life as if it was the last, wanting to fall in love, scared to grow old alone because of my own doing.

When all else in my life fails, will I still have a family to come home to?




Sunday, March 21, 2010

Au Revoir

It is a Sunday night and I’m working on overdue reports. I try not to work on the weekend. It is unhealthy but I started dreaming about what I needed to write in those reports. I may have even talked about the reports in my sleep. I had to pull myself together, sit at my work desk for a few hours and really start thinking about the things I need to accomplish before Monday. This is depressing, to say the least, and to consider myself hardworking is a lie. I am not. The long list of to do’s that I was unable to accomplish by the end of the previous work week is proof of how distracted I had been. I’m starting to abhor the daily grind, the long days spent in the office and the restless nights thinking about how much longer I can keep afloat through work and my personal life.

He gave me up two weeks ago. He forced the issue by telling me has slept with his wife again. It was no secret to me that he sleeps beside the wife. Things have changed since my last blog entry. It took a turn for the worse for me and now the wife is taking a lead advantage.

The mistress never gets the man. Of the ten people I know who have, at one point in their lives been a mistress, only one of them got the man. What are the odds I will be that one person in this statistic? The more I thought about how much time he has been spending at home, the more I regret letting myself become part of that other 90%.

The mistress never gets the man.

Yet I can’t bring myself to feel that that one year in my life that I spent with Ed had been worthless. It wasn’t. Despite the tribulation, he gave me some of the best memories of my life.

There is no future for me, for us, he had told me. I had cried, yet again, because if he gave me up, I would have to give him up, too, and I would get over him the following day if I chose to. I didn’t want our love story to end but I have to close this chapter on Ed and move on.

This is me moving on……





Tuesday, January 26, 2010

What It Feels Like For This Girl…

I wish he is standing right next to me now. I hope he can see through my eyes, feel with my heart, touch with my hands and understand what it truly feels like for this girl…


******************************************

Friday afternoon in the city. Office girls prettify themselves, ready to meet up with friends and lovers. Mostly lovers. It is all very false-festive for me. As everyone's mood lightened up, as hair was being let down from their tight ponytails and blazers removed to reveal some sexy and oddly shimmery blouse underneath, I started to resent not having plans of my own. I just smiled at my friends and pretended to be excited for them. It is difficult to truly share the Friday enthusiasm of the women whom I have shared the four walls of this office for years now.

On a Friday, as if on cue, my friends ask about my plans for the evening…Will a boyfriend pick me up? Or a suitor maybe? The truth is, that ritual never appealed to me. I didn't like boyfriends or suitors coming to my place of work, even on a Friday. Something about keeping my personal and professional life separate.

The last of my coworkers left their desks, chattering happily towards the elevators, cell phones held to their ears.

I looked at my second cellphone. Only one other person knows the number of this phone, Ed. It is the only means of communication I have with him. The screen was blank. No missed calls. Not even an unread message.

I typed an SMS comprised of ten dots---not words, just dots.

Moments later he sent me a message back with our safe word. He wasn't free to text me back.

While the thought of a special someone picking me up after work didn't really appeal to me, stepping out of my office building and seeing all the happy faces of lovers reunited after less than 12 hours of separation made me wish I had a man who was free to be seen with me.

The city lights flickered on one by one and the tall buildings set against an orange sun setting in the horizon was just beautiful. I stood outside my office building, hoping to find a cab soon and escape back into my apartment. There were too many people trying to get cabs but instead of the annoyed, almost angry look I expected to see in their faces when some other couple gets the cab first, I instead saw huge smiles..

This is probably how love looks like.

The couple in front of me was holding hands, the girl leaning her head against her boyfriend's shoulder. She raised her lips to his and before he kissed her, they looked at each other for what felt like a full minute. And all around them, the throng of strangers seemed to be non-existent.

This is probably how love looks like.

Two women passed in front of me and they were holding hands. Even lesbians appreciate Friday afternoons.

But not me.

This is what it feels like for this girl. She's tough, or at least she pretends to be. She doesn't need a man's protection but deep inside, she wishes there was a man who would worry enough to actually pick her up after work. She doesn't need a man's gifts although flowers would really make her smile and brighten her day. She never takes personal phone calls—she's all about business and that self-assuredness she's been admired for but when she's alone, she looks at her personal phone, willing it to ring, hoping to hear his voice on the other line. She is independent and doesn't even like roommates but when she flicks on the lights of her empty apartment, she wishes there was someone she can home to.

This is what it feels like for this girl.



Monday, January 25, 2010

Cleansing

There is nothing like the smell of bleach to keep my mind occupied by other things and away from my mounting frustrations.

I scrubbed the sink with the same ferocity I use when dealing with the daily troubles of my colorful life. My knuckles hurt from the force I exerted on each helpless tile. This sink has to be squeaky clean and sparkling white. Now, if only my relationship with Ed could be as clean. If only I could pour bleach on our lives and remove the stains tarnishing my love story, the stains that are keeping me away from the only thing I want most now.

More bleach. My nostrils stared to burn and I choked in a lungful of air to keep me from fainting. More bleach. I didn't care about putting a mask on. I didn't care about my freshly manicured nails. I had to do something to keep my mind busy. I suppose I will clean the entire house next, starting with the bathroom.

While I am used to him canceling at the last minute because he noticed a car tailing him, I can't help beating myself up for having any expectations at all. I have made a pact to myself never to expect him to be around even if he promises to see me. I swore never to feel bad if he cancels, never to take it against him. Yet, I can't help feeling sad for myself for putting up with this.

My cellphone beeped incessantly. I knew it was him. A few apologetic text messages are now crowding my phone's inbox. I can't bring myself to respond to him and tell him it's alright. I miss him so it's not fair for the private investigators to be tailing him all day and night!

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid sink.

Total Submission

A few days before, he had told me to free up my Saturday night. I am only too excited to cancel movie night with my friends. Opportunities to spend more than three hours with him are too few and far between. I'd drop whatever I am doing and cancel everything I had planned to be with him. Lately, we don't plan to see each other days ahead. What with the Jason Bourne and Marie Kreutz stunts Ed and I have to pull just to see each other, our appointments cannot be planned. It was always urgent, a spur of the moment, that chance we can take as a result of the PI's incompetence. Private Investigators tailing us have been a part of daily life. I can't say it's not interesting. The thrill of our illicit sexual encounters fuels our fantasies and heightens our need for each other so much that it took our sex life to a notch higher. So this Saturday evening, it'll be all about messy sex: spit, cum, lube and anal.

A faint knock on the door sent my senses into overdrive. I greeted him at the door naked -as was his requirement. There he was, standing outside my door again, my sex god, the man who took my non-existent unresolved daddy issues and my incest fantasies to a whole new level, making it an addiction, a fetish I will never outgrow. Ed and I have been together for a year but until now, I still get star struck when I see him.

I wrapped my arms around him and ran my fingers over his neck and his back, examining him, as If he was just a vision that might disappear any minute. He brushed his lips against my cheek and my senses raced into full-blown overdrive. This week-long sexual abstinence disrupts my normal body functions, distracts me at work, makes me anxious and moody. Sex calms me down. If I can have it everyday, I'd be calmer, more productive at work, happier. He is my drug and he's come to me tonight to deliver on his promises of making me his slave again.

I kissed his lips lightly. He wrapped his hand around my hair and pulled my head back gently so that he could look at me, examine my face and my naked body. My master leaned to kiss my lips, still holding my head so that I couldn't move my lips with his. Without warning, he dragged me by the hair to the bed. I don't expect him to be gentle. I don't want my man to be gentle.

In the bedroom, he forced me to kneel on all fours, his hand still wrapped around my hair. His lips brushed against my skin gently and his tongue traced light patterns on shoulders. While his mouth was gentle, his hands were fierce. With one hand wrapped around my hair and the other around my neck, I could barely move as he pulled me back closer to him. He whispered "my slave" and I sighed in pleasure. I've waited so long to serve him again…

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Resurrection

I closed my eyes and ran my fingers over my body, remembering how he had ravaged me only moments ago....I missed him the moment he stepped out the door and I had to calm myself down, telling myself over and over again that he will be back soon.

I wonder if I will ever need another human being the way I need him now.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Eleven pm on a Saturday night, I was alone again in my apartment. I have not had a moment of peace inside my head since August 2009 so this--this moment that felt a lot like the serenity after an explosive orgasm--is a rare experience.

As I sat naked in front of my computer, I realized it was unwise to disappear from blogging. The latter part of 2009 was filled with so much drama, so much emotional strife and so many stories would have been told out of them.

I've come out of hiding to tell you my story. Where do I begin?

2009 came and went.

I am still a mistress.

It has been nearly a year since I met Ed, nearly a year of being in love with a man I may never have. It was pure lust in the beginning and we were fine until we fell in love.

Now, we've had more reason to hide our relationship, more reason to hold on to what we've found with each other until he is legally free to be with me.

It's all very clear to me now. I know what I want. I am in love and I want to be happy. I have no remorse for taking a married man away from his wife.

I am in love. I will wait for him.

* * * * * *