Only the stern looking gym fit guy remained when I returned to the steam room. Beside him was a vacant space, followed by a lean skinhead that was not around previously. He immediately locked eyes with me, and taking it as my queue, I took the vacant seat between the two men.
I did not waste any moment. I purposefully swayed my legs so that each would softly brush against theirs on either side. Both started fondling their bulges. I went on my own, and in no time, we were taking our cocks out of our undies like soldiers wielding their swords.
My mouth watered upon seeing their manhood. One was average sized, but the stern looking guy's was huge both in girth and length. Prominent veins traversed the surface from the base, leading to a smooth, well-endowed head. My craving went out of control. I dived into his engorged tower while a hand attended to the skinhead's.
Both men proved to be intense. Each demanded for constant tongue attention, pulling my head off the other's tool so I can pleasure his own. Both pumped into my mouth with no mercy, intent to get milked by a cum pig's throat.
But the door swung open, and it was time again to disperse.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Hidden
Everyone in the room disappeared. One got dressed and immediately left, while the others took a shower and prepared to leave. I had no intentions of going home, though. Two was not enough.
I wandered into the locker room to let some time pass. The intruder might still be enjoying what was left of the steam. Moments after, I saw the middle aged man heading for his locker. Realizing that his locker was adjacent to mine, I followed suit.
That side of the locker room was almost deserted. The middle aged man started to dress but never tore his eyes away from my crotch. After double checking that no one was around, I took out my cock and teased: his eyes squinted a little, as if moaning, when I started to jerk off. I stopped and wiggled my tool, inviting him to come over and continue what he did in the steam room. His eyes gave the room a quick scan, and after confirming that no one was around, he moved closer, stuck out his tongue and licked the tip of my head.
We sensed somebody approaching. The middle aged man finished getting dressed, pressed his ass against my bulge before heading for the exit, and went home.
With the time that passed, I felt it safe to go back to the breeding den and hunt again. There were two men inside, both a year or two younger than myself. One looked like a viable prey. A much older, stern looking gym fit man came in, not expressing much interest but the growing bulge in his sexy green undies expressed otherwise. He took a seat on my right.
The viable prey went out for a drink in the communal fountain. I followed him outside, staying by the corner as he had his fill. Locking eyes with me, he went inside a shower cubicle and left the door ajar.
I slipped inside after confirming that no one was watching. I locked the door and immediately went on my knees and started what I do best—cock worship.
But this younger, twinkish guy had other ideas. He flipped over and spread his ass cheeks. A tight hole came in sight: pulsing and puckering, as if panting, breathing in and out and craving for attention. I gave it a few teasing taste with my tongue before devouring it whole. When his hole was sloppy and wet, I inserted a finger, to which he cringed and politely said no.
Feeling hungry to experience the heat of his insides, I stuck out my tongue and dived. It landed on the rim and went past the opening. The boy reached out and slammed my head into his ass. He wanted more of the tongue fuck, and I gave it to him despite having a hard time to breathe.
I went back to his cock to catch some air. He pulled out and whispered that he was close. He grabbed my head and yanked his cock deep into my throat, and I felt warm juice filling my tonsils as his cock pulsed violently inside my mouth.
He pulled me up for a soft kiss and muttered thanks. I discreetly opened the door and left the cubicle, my eyes on the steam room once again.
To be continued
I wandered into the locker room to let some time pass. The intruder might still be enjoying what was left of the steam. Moments after, I saw the middle aged man heading for his locker. Realizing that his locker was adjacent to mine, I followed suit.
That side of the locker room was almost deserted. The middle aged man started to dress but never tore his eyes away from my crotch. After double checking that no one was around, I took out my cock and teased: his eyes squinted a little, as if moaning, when I started to jerk off. I stopped and wiggled my tool, inviting him to come over and continue what he did in the steam room. His eyes gave the room a quick scan, and after confirming that no one was around, he moved closer, stuck out his tongue and licked the tip of my head.
We sensed somebody approaching. The middle aged man finished getting dressed, pressed his ass against my bulge before heading for the exit, and went home.
With the time that passed, I felt it safe to go back to the breeding den and hunt again. There were two men inside, both a year or two younger than myself. One looked like a viable prey. A much older, stern looking gym fit man came in, not expressing much interest but the growing bulge in his sexy green undies expressed otherwise. He took a seat on my right.
The viable prey went out for a drink in the communal fountain. I followed him outside, staying by the corner as he had his fill. Locking eyes with me, he went inside a shower cubicle and left the door ajar.
I slipped inside after confirming that no one was watching. I locked the door and immediately went on my knees and started what I do best—cock worship.
But this younger, twinkish guy had other ideas. He flipped over and spread his ass cheeks. A tight hole came in sight: pulsing and puckering, as if panting, breathing in and out and craving for attention. I gave it a few teasing taste with my tongue before devouring it whole. When his hole was sloppy and wet, I inserted a finger, to which he cringed and politely said no.
Feeling hungry to experience the heat of his insides, I stuck out my tongue and dived. It landed on the rim and went past the opening. The boy reached out and slammed my head into his ass. He wanted more of the tongue fuck, and I gave it to him despite having a hard time to breathe.
I went back to his cock to catch some air. He pulled out and whispered that he was close. He grabbed my head and yanked his cock deep into my throat, and I felt warm juice filling my tonsils as his cock pulsed violently inside my mouth.
He pulled me up for a soft kiss and muttered thanks. I discreetly opened the door and left the cubicle, my eyes on the steam room once again.
To be continued
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Hunting
I had been feeling hungry for almost a week, and that night, I promised that I would feed.
I immediately sensed that the men I was with were just as famished. Perhaps it was the absence of steam that made it easily evident—there was no fog to obscure the craving on each one's faces from view. Or perhaps, it was the thirst that emanated from each one's skin that fueled what remained of the heat that the steam room contained before it was shut off. Either way, I was in the presence of hungry pigs, and I couldn't be any luckier.
But it's not always easy. There seemed to be a stray. He was seated on my left, pretending to be oblivious of what was going to transpire. He was attempting to make himself more challenging to read: he avoided everyone's gaze and hid in the room's darkest shadows. He kept his blue towel wrapped around his waist, but it was not enough to conceal the manhood that has gotten hard underneath. With the correct triggers, I knew that this man would unleash the demon in him; yet, there remained a small fraction of doubt about his intentions.
In the meantime, I took the opportunity to lock eyes with the other to communicate silently: seated diagonally across me was a middle aged man, hair gradually taken away by his years but the gorgeous face remained. I knew him from three years back. We never fed each other's hunger before but would bump into one another when searching for prey. It was effortless to communicate—his eyes switched between my own and the soft bulge that poked from underneath my briefs. They would also drift to the guy on my left, burning with a questioning look that mirrored my own thoughts about the man in blue.
The door creaked open and another guy came in. He went straight to the other corner, hiding in the shadows while giving me an unfaltering stare. He didn't make a move, though—everyone was trying to feel if the blue-toweled man was indeed a stray
I was feeling impatient. I went out to have some water to ease the discomfort. When I came back, the blue-toweled man was gone. The guy from the other corner has taken his spot on my left. The door swang open once more and in came another. I was becoming intensely hungry, so I did not hesitate. I locked eyes with the newcomer, and when he returned the gesture, I knew it was time.
I massaged the bulge beneath my briefs. The newcomer responded by doing the same. The middle aged man locked eyes with me and licked his lips seductively. The guy on my left let his towel hang loose to give room to his growing manhood.
The middle aged man stooped down and took my cock head into his mouth. The warmth and wetness that greeted my tool gave an ethereal bliss. Yet, it wasn't enough. I needed to feed. My attention shifted to the easiest target: a hand traveled to my side, and in no time, it has already formed a first around the cock of the guy on my left.
He moved closer and gestured me to lick his nips. I willingly obliged as he unwrapped his lower body to expose his cock. My guts lit up and growled. The towel he set aside revealed a huge monster: around 6 inches or more, curved and still slightly soft. I wasted no time. I dove in and took it into my mouth. The feeling of his manhood in my lips was intoxicating. I was in deep ecstasy, and the reality that I was finally quenching my thirst intensified my hunger even more. I was going to make this dick rock hard, I told myself. I formed a fist with my hand and jacked it up and down his joy stick—
Fuck, I said to myself as the door opened. Everyone was back in a non-suspicious position in a flash. It was the blue-toweled man. He took the other end of the room and once again hid in the shadows, but I did not want him to. The moment his eyes darted to my direction, I took out my cock and jacked off with him watching.
He sat on his corner, frozen. I didn't care. I knew he wanted this as much as everybody else did. He could watch, or just beat his tool just like the other one had been doing since the very start. Not minding him anymore, I went back to my 6-inch monster and pleasured it like the hungry pig that I was.
There was movement on my side. The blue-toweled guy joined our corner, and the middle aged man had his cock in his hands.
Another monster. Smaller than six, but very thick and hard. I could not miss such a delicious meal. I let the cock in my mouth slip out so I could chase after the other.
It was, however, a resource that I had to share with the middle aged man. I first settled into cupping the balls with my lips while the older man sucked on the head. My lips moved to the base of his cock, going up and up until our tongues battled for territory. The blue-toweled guy moaned in extreme pleasure. Two mouths were sucking his cock at the same time.
The middle aged man and I exchanged wet and sloppy kisses while alternating on sucking that adorable manhood. Not forgetting the other, I left him to savor the meat and went back to my original piece. I ran my tongue and lips on its side before taking it in once again, but this time, very deeply. His moans would dominate the room each time the tip of his cock hit the depths of my tonsils, mixing with my own as the middle aged man stroke my cock while sucking the blue-toweled guy's.
The guy on my left pulled out of my mouth. "Malapit na ko," he gasped through his moans. He jacked off fast until his man juice started shooting out.
Seeing those thick wads of hot cum brought me to a state of trance. It smelled appealing and irresistible, like how blood is to a vampire. It was... hypnotizing. Without a second thought, I grabbed his cock with my mouth and used my tongue as a catch basin, savoring the sweet saltiness of his cum before swallowing. I then went after the first streaks of cum that landed on his stomach. I was devouring each bit like a true cum slut when the door suddenly swung open—
To be continued
I immediately sensed that the men I was with were just as famished. Perhaps it was the absence of steam that made it easily evident—there was no fog to obscure the craving on each one's faces from view. Or perhaps, it was the thirst that emanated from each one's skin that fueled what remained of the heat that the steam room contained before it was shut off. Either way, I was in the presence of hungry pigs, and I couldn't be any luckier.
But it's not always easy. There seemed to be a stray. He was seated on my left, pretending to be oblivious of what was going to transpire. He was attempting to make himself more challenging to read: he avoided everyone's gaze and hid in the room's darkest shadows. He kept his blue towel wrapped around his waist, but it was not enough to conceal the manhood that has gotten hard underneath. With the correct triggers, I knew that this man would unleash the demon in him; yet, there remained a small fraction of doubt about his intentions.
In the meantime, I took the opportunity to lock eyes with the other to communicate silently: seated diagonally across me was a middle aged man, hair gradually taken away by his years but the gorgeous face remained. I knew him from three years back. We never fed each other's hunger before but would bump into one another when searching for prey. It was effortless to communicate—his eyes switched between my own and the soft bulge that poked from underneath my briefs. They would also drift to the guy on my left, burning with a questioning look that mirrored my own thoughts about the man in blue.
The door creaked open and another guy came in. He went straight to the other corner, hiding in the shadows while giving me an unfaltering stare. He didn't make a move, though—everyone was trying to feel if the blue-toweled man was indeed a stray
I was feeling impatient. I went out to have some water to ease the discomfort. When I came back, the blue-toweled man was gone. The guy from the other corner has taken his spot on my left. The door swang open once more and in came another. I was becoming intensely hungry, so I did not hesitate. I locked eyes with the newcomer, and when he returned the gesture, I knew it was time.
I massaged the bulge beneath my briefs. The newcomer responded by doing the same. The middle aged man locked eyes with me and licked his lips seductively. The guy on my left let his towel hang loose to give room to his growing manhood.
The middle aged man stooped down and took my cock head into his mouth. The warmth and wetness that greeted my tool gave an ethereal bliss. Yet, it wasn't enough. I needed to feed. My attention shifted to the easiest target: a hand traveled to my side, and in no time, it has already formed a first around the cock of the guy on my left.
He moved closer and gestured me to lick his nips. I willingly obliged as he unwrapped his lower body to expose his cock. My guts lit up and growled. The towel he set aside revealed a huge monster: around 6 inches or more, curved and still slightly soft. I wasted no time. I dove in and took it into my mouth. The feeling of his manhood in my lips was intoxicating. I was in deep ecstasy, and the reality that I was finally quenching my thirst intensified my hunger even more. I was going to make this dick rock hard, I told myself. I formed a fist with my hand and jacked it up and down his joy stick—
Fuck, I said to myself as the door opened. Everyone was back in a non-suspicious position in a flash. It was the blue-toweled man. He took the other end of the room and once again hid in the shadows, but I did not want him to. The moment his eyes darted to my direction, I took out my cock and jacked off with him watching.
He sat on his corner, frozen. I didn't care. I knew he wanted this as much as everybody else did. He could watch, or just beat his tool just like the other one had been doing since the very start. Not minding him anymore, I went back to my 6-inch monster and pleasured it like the hungry pig that I was.
There was movement on my side. The blue-toweled guy joined our corner, and the middle aged man had his cock in his hands.
Another monster. Smaller than six, but very thick and hard. I could not miss such a delicious meal. I let the cock in my mouth slip out so I could chase after the other.
It was, however, a resource that I had to share with the middle aged man. I first settled into cupping the balls with my lips while the older man sucked on the head. My lips moved to the base of his cock, going up and up until our tongues battled for territory. The blue-toweled guy moaned in extreme pleasure. Two mouths were sucking his cock at the same time.
The middle aged man and I exchanged wet and sloppy kisses while alternating on sucking that adorable manhood. Not forgetting the other, I left him to savor the meat and went back to my original piece. I ran my tongue and lips on its side before taking it in once again, but this time, very deeply. His moans would dominate the room each time the tip of his cock hit the depths of my tonsils, mixing with my own as the middle aged man stroke my cock while sucking the blue-toweled guy's.
The guy on my left pulled out of my mouth. "Malapit na ko," he gasped through his moans. He jacked off fast until his man juice started shooting out.
Seeing those thick wads of hot cum brought me to a state of trance. It smelled appealing and irresistible, like how blood is to a vampire. It was... hypnotizing. Without a second thought, I grabbed his cock with my mouth and used my tongue as a catch basin, savoring the sweet saltiness of his cum before swallowing. I then went after the first streaks of cum that landed on his stomach. I was devouring each bit like a true cum slut when the door suddenly swung open—
To be continued
Sunday, November 2, 2014
All Souls' Day
The warmth I so dreaded finally surfaced. It had been swirling at my feet all morning but I chose to dismiss it deliberately, keeping in mind that I had more important things to do than stay home in bed. I cringed at the thought of our friend and family doctor; seeing, inside my head, the lines on her aged forehead crease, with yet another blunder (the very same, in fact) that I was to commit. She had been advising me to take it slow and rest, as the work, academic and personal matters I had to attend to in the past months overwhelmed not just my spent spirit but also my fragile body.
I placed the back of my hand against my neck. It was not as bad as I thought, but I didn't want to take chances. I grabbed a glass of water and a tablet of paracetamol as I strode to my room.
I tidied my space before going to bed. A small butterfly fluttered away from my closet door as I pulled it open to keep the bag I used for the day. I then checked if everything I needed for work the next day was in my office bag. Sure that all was set, I let myself fall into the comforts of my sheets and everything around me quickly dissolved into darkness.
An hour or so passed when someone roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes a little and battled with the brightness that bounced around the bedroom. I didn't realize I slipped to turn off the lights. When my eyes have finally adjusted, I did not find any other being in the room but for the small butterfly from earlier, perched on my lower right arm.
"My little boy," its female voice said, "My sickly, little boy."
A mix of joy and gloom erupted within my chest. She had long ago been gone but I could never forget—the croaked, sweet voice, the gentleness of the touch, the characteristic scent she carried from the kitchen, the warmth that wraps my skin each time she was around. We shared this room since I was a child, until it was time for her to go and move on.
"Grandma," I acknowledged with a smile. "Yes, I am sick again."
The butterfly started to take form. I could not figure its face, but the plumpness of the silhouette that glowed golden orange told me it was indeed my dear grandmother.
I made space on the bed and the figure took the place. It sat beside me while I remained lying down.
"You look fatigued," she said, sweeping her fingers through my hair. "I have never seen my boy this tired. Work and school did not treat you well the past few months."
I looked up and replied, "That's true. I have never been this tired my entire life. I have never slept a good five to six hours just to wake up tired. I have never had fully booked weekends. I underestimated the load work and school would give. I took on so many things. There was no turning back when I realized I couldn't do it."
"But you did." Her lips curved into the same crescent we would always wait for in the night sky when I was in kindergarten. She remained silent and continued streaking my hair, until:
"You didn't have to visit today," she commented. "You knew that going out to the heat of the sun would strain you. You should have taken the opportunity to rest."
I returned her smile and answered, "How can I not? It's the only thing I look forward to every after Halloween."
I closed my eyes and savored the warmth of her fingers brushing on my scalp. I could feel myself swimming, once again, toward the peaceful void of subconsciousness. We remained this way for quite a while; a few moments more and Grandma broke the silence once more.
"Does your back still hurt when you're sick?"
"Yes," I mumbled through sleepiness.
"Come here." She gently lifted my arms and wrapped them around her waist. I pushed myself up a little and rested my head on her lap. A palm went up and down my back, just right at where it hurt, with just the right amount of pressure, just how she would do it years back. The comforting effect was immediate.
"Thank you for visiting tonight." My eyes were closed and I could barely stay awake.
"Thank you for letting me," her sweet voice replied.
"Come anytime," I muttered. "Our no-visits-until-I-say-so agreement is long over."
I heard a chuckle that seemed to come from a distance. "Yes, you told me that when you visited two years ago."
* * *
My eyes shot open. I felt so much disoriented, not knowing what time it was, not even realizing that I dozed off. I tilted my head to the side. The wall clock read a bit past 9:30. I was asleep for a good 15 minutes.
Sensation started to return to my limbs, making me aware of something that I was holding in my hand. It was the bag I used earlier today, the last item I was to put away before going to bed.
I got up and went toward the closet. I have already pulled the door open when I realized there was a small butterfly perched on the surface, now flying away and exploring the expanse of the room that used to be hers.
I placed the back of my hand against my neck. It was not as bad as I thought, but I didn't want to take chances. I grabbed a glass of water and a tablet of paracetamol as I strode to my room.
I tidied my space before going to bed. A small butterfly fluttered away from my closet door as I pulled it open to keep the bag I used for the day. I then checked if everything I needed for work the next day was in my office bag. Sure that all was set, I let myself fall into the comforts of my sheets and everything around me quickly dissolved into darkness.
An hour or so passed when someone roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes a little and battled with the brightness that bounced around the bedroom. I didn't realize I slipped to turn off the lights. When my eyes have finally adjusted, I did not find any other being in the room but for the small butterfly from earlier, perched on my lower right arm.
"My little boy," its female voice said, "My sickly, little boy."
A mix of joy and gloom erupted within my chest. She had long ago been gone but I could never forget—the croaked, sweet voice, the gentleness of the touch, the characteristic scent she carried from the kitchen, the warmth that wraps my skin each time she was around. We shared this room since I was a child, until it was time for her to go and move on.
"Grandma," I acknowledged with a smile. "Yes, I am sick again."
The butterfly started to take form. I could not figure its face, but the plumpness of the silhouette that glowed golden orange told me it was indeed my dear grandmother.
I made space on the bed and the figure took the place. It sat beside me while I remained lying down.
"You look fatigued," she said, sweeping her fingers through my hair. "I have never seen my boy this tired. Work and school did not treat you well the past few months."
I looked up and replied, "That's true. I have never been this tired my entire life. I have never slept a good five to six hours just to wake up tired. I have never had fully booked weekends. I underestimated the load work and school would give. I took on so many things. There was no turning back when I realized I couldn't do it."
"But you did." Her lips curved into the same crescent we would always wait for in the night sky when I was in kindergarten. She remained silent and continued streaking my hair, until:
"You didn't have to visit today," she commented. "You knew that going out to the heat of the sun would strain you. You should have taken the opportunity to rest."
I returned her smile and answered, "How can I not? It's the only thing I look forward to every after Halloween."
I closed my eyes and savored the warmth of her fingers brushing on my scalp. I could feel myself swimming, once again, toward the peaceful void of subconsciousness. We remained this way for quite a while; a few moments more and Grandma broke the silence once more.
"Does your back still hurt when you're sick?"
"Yes," I mumbled through sleepiness.
"Come here." She gently lifted my arms and wrapped them around her waist. I pushed myself up a little and rested my head on her lap. A palm went up and down my back, just right at where it hurt, with just the right amount of pressure, just how she would do it years back. The comforting effect was immediate.
"Thank you for visiting tonight." My eyes were closed and I could barely stay awake.
"Thank you for letting me," her sweet voice replied.
"Come anytime," I muttered. "Our no-visits-until-I-say-so agreement is long over."
I heard a chuckle that seemed to come from a distance. "Yes, you told me that when you visited two years ago."
* * *
My eyes shot open. I felt so much disoriented, not knowing what time it was, not even realizing that I dozed off. I tilted my head to the side. The wall clock read a bit past 9:30. I was asleep for a good 15 minutes.
Sensation started to return to my limbs, making me aware of something that I was holding in my hand. It was the bag I used earlier today, the last item I was to put away before going to bed.
I got up and went toward the closet. I have already pulled the door open when I realized there was a small butterfly perched on the surface, now flying away and exploring the expanse of the room that used to be hers.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Friday, October 31, 2014
Blog Post
"Say something," it said.
I had been staring at it for a while. But despite knowing that I have so many things to say—and actually knowing what to say—my mind remained blank, simply incapable of translating these thoughts into coherent, sensible words.
Silence ensued. Finally, I could feel the words forming, running toward the tip of my fingertips, craving to be expressed, overflowing, trying to outdo one another, craving to be written first—
An then they were gone. I once again stared at the blank canvas that was my Blogger new post screen, wondering how something that came so swiftly could be gone just as fast.
I had been staring at it for a while. But despite knowing that I have so many things to say—and actually knowing what to say—my mind remained blank, simply incapable of translating these thoughts into coherent, sensible words.
Silence ensued. Finally, I could feel the words forming, running toward the tip of my fingertips, craving to be expressed, overflowing, trying to outdo one another, craving to be written first—
An then they were gone. I once again stared at the blank canvas that was my Blogger new post screen, wondering how something that came so swiftly could be gone just as fast.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Now, who's the boss?
I pleasured him with another round of sucking to make him extra hard. I then rolled the rubber down his dick. I squirted a liberal amount of lube after, wrapping my palms on his tool to spread it out. Facing him, I positioned myself on top and slowly lowered myself until a mixture of pleasure and pain invaded my hungry man hole.
I placed my hands at the back of my head as I rode him. He placed his hands on my hips but I pushed them away—I wanted to show him who was truly in control. I went up and down, pounding myself against his manhood as hard as I could, taking in all its thickness and length, drowning in ecstasy, feeling the pleasure—
We shifted positions. I lied on the bed and guided him to my hole. This time, I relinquished control. He pumped teasefully, pulling his dick almost out before pushing it in with a swift, forceful movement. He spat on me again upon my request, and this seemed to have brought me to the edge.
I could feel something building up from within. It was gathering so much force that I knew no amount of will power could hold it any longer. A few pumps more, and then I panted, "Fuck, I'm cumming!"
Thick rods of warm cum splurged out of my cock. It splattered generously on my belly and my chest, showering myself with the fruits of pleasure that ensued in the past several minutes. He pulled out and ditched the rubber, and like an insatiable dog craving for more nourishment, I hungrily sucked on his dick and pulled his balls. Soon after, his sweet smelling cum joined the huge puddle on my chest.
We lied down as our heartbeats started to settle to a more normal pace. "Fuck you," he said. "Nilabasan ka ng di nagsasalsal. Damn."
"First time," I said, much to his awe.
We cleaned up and left. We took the same ride but it would be me who had to alight the jeepney first. He gave me his card one block before my pitstop.
"I'll text you," I promised before going down the vehicle.
As the jeepney disappeared at the distance, I pledged to have that tool fuck me again. I guess, in the end, it was still he who dominated.
But I'm not complaining.
I placed my hands at the back of my head as I rode him. He placed his hands on my hips but I pushed them away—I wanted to show him who was truly in control. I went up and down, pounding myself against his manhood as hard as I could, taking in all its thickness and length, drowning in ecstasy, feeling the pleasure—
We shifted positions. I lied on the bed and guided him to my hole. This time, I relinquished control. He pumped teasefully, pulling his dick almost out before pushing it in with a swift, forceful movement. He spat on me again upon my request, and this seemed to have brought me to the edge.
I could feel something building up from within. It was gathering so much force that I knew no amount of will power could hold it any longer. A few pumps more, and then I panted, "Fuck, I'm cumming!"
Thick rods of warm cum splurged out of my cock. It splattered generously on my belly and my chest, showering myself with the fruits of pleasure that ensued in the past several minutes. He pulled out and ditched the rubber, and like an insatiable dog craving for more nourishment, I hungrily sucked on his dick and pulled his balls. Soon after, his sweet smelling cum joined the huge puddle on my chest.
We lied down as our heartbeats started to settle to a more normal pace. "Fuck you," he said. "Nilabasan ka ng di nagsasalsal. Damn."
"First time," I said, much to his awe.
We cleaned up and left. We took the same ride but it would be me who had to alight the jeepney first. He gave me his card one block before my pitstop.
"I'll text you," I promised before going down the vehicle.
As the jeepney disappeared at the distance, I pledged to have that tool fuck me again. I guess, in the end, it was still he who dominated.
But I'm not complaining.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Bus Ride
The bus conductor roused me from my sleep. My hazy vision welcomed a dimly lit morning sky, with the Sunday dawn having just cracked and the sun waiting to shine just around the corner. She and the driver requested all passengers to transfer to another bus as their break was having problems.
I took a seat at the farther end of the new vehicle. With so much alcohol pumping through my veins, I easily fell asleep, but not deep enough to be unaware of the guy seated on the couches at the other side of the aisle.
He was staring and made no effort to be discreet. I stared back: he was tall, lean, looked clean and decent. He was wearing a neat pair of shorts and long sleeves, and carried a brown fabric bag with him. How contrasting with my stained corporate attire and leather messenger bag, I thought.
The stares continued until it was time for me to alight the bus. I left my seat and looked back to give him the stickiest stare my drunk self could manage. As I prepared to step out of the bus, I saw him leave his seat through the periphery of my vision.
I walked down the street slowly so he could catch up. When he reached my side, I gestured him to cross the street and stop by the traffic light at the corner. It was him who spoke first.
"Pauwi ka na?"
"Yup," I replied. "Ikaw?"
"Oo."
"San ka ba?" I asked.
"Sa ____," he said.
"Dapat pala di ka na bumaba ng bus," I said innocently. "Ako, dito lang sa ____, so isang jeep na lang and I'm home."
A moment's silence, then—
"Buti sumunod ka. Bakit ka sumunod?" I asked with a pointed, hungry stare.
He gave a sly smile. "Sabi ko sa sarili ko, if you look back, susundan kita. And you did. So I'm here. Sinong kasama mo sa bahay?"
"Parents and sibling," was my short reply. He said he stays with his family as well.
"So," I began. "Anong gusto mong gawin?"
"The exact same thing you have in mind," he said with an evil gleam in his eyes.
We did not think twice. We took a jeepney to the nearest apartelle, paid the fees and went inside our (exceedingly and excruciatingly) modest room.
He went to the rest room to pee. I took my own leak after he did, and when I stepped out of the comfort room, he was already lying on the bed, shirtless.
I did not waste any minute. I took my place on the bed and locked my lips with his.
"Nakainom ka, 'no?" It was more declarative than inquiring. Nevertheless, he resumed kissing my lips and played with my tongue.
I went beyond and devoured his neck. My tongue then traveled up the side of his face and licked the inside of his ear. With the way he was moaning, I could tell that he was having a good time.
I dove down and attacked his pits, moving into his nips before doing down his navel and the bulge that teased through his sexy pair of blue undies. My eyes sparked with a hungry longing when his dick popped out of the fabric.
A thick, six-inch monster sprang out and slapped onto his flat belly. Its fair complexion enhanced the smoothness of its body, making it so enticing that it was almost irresistible.
I took in the head and submerged it with the warmth of my mouth. His moans became louder, his back arching away slightly from the bed, prompting me to do better. His moans climaxed when I buried my head against his crotch, so deeply that the head of his throbbing dick reached the depths of my tonsils.
"Fuck you," he said. "Get up and remove your shirt."
I did what I was told. "Nice," he muttered, his hands reaching out and caressing my chest. "You go to the gym?" But even before I could reply, he was already pushing me down the bed, went on top of me and took his turn to please me.
He mostly focused on my lips. He kissed, bit, and sucked on my tongue. This went on for a minute or two until he raised his head away from mine and stopped.
His lips looked as if they were brewing something. Knowing what was coming, I opened my willing mouth to receive the spit that slobbered out of his lips. He spat two times with such force that made my carnal desires escalate even more. Spitting is a huge turn on for me.
Craving more of the hardness and thickness of his tool, I pushed him to his back and sucked his cock once more. This time, though, I also cupped his balls inside my lips and licked the sensitive space between his balls and bum hole.
"Do you rim?" he asked.
I responded by pushing up his legs and bathing his crack with my tongue. But being the ass whore that I am, that wasn't enough: I spread his ass cheeks so my tongue can go in and out of his hole.
I got up to remove the rest of my clothing. When I was about to strip off my underwear, he grabbed my leg and said, "No. Stand on top of me." He motioned me to move above his face and signaled me to remove my briefs.
His face drowned in ecstasy. I lowered myself and pointed my dick into his mouth which he willingly took in. A few moments later, he ordered me to sit on his face.
I was surprised to find his dominance arousing. I did as I was told, and immediately I felt a tongue wetting my hungry hole and a finger going in.
I lifted myself off his face. I pulled a pack of condoms out of my bag and threw it to him as I fumbled through my things for the tube of lube.
He placed his hands behind his head and looked at me in the eye. "Gusto ko ikaw ang maglagay," he said, his face twitching to an evil grin.
Bring it on, I told him silently. I'll show you who's the master here.
I took a seat at the farther end of the new vehicle. With so much alcohol pumping through my veins, I easily fell asleep, but not deep enough to be unaware of the guy seated on the couches at the other side of the aisle.
He was staring and made no effort to be discreet. I stared back: he was tall, lean, looked clean and decent. He was wearing a neat pair of shorts and long sleeves, and carried a brown fabric bag with him. How contrasting with my stained corporate attire and leather messenger bag, I thought.
The stares continued until it was time for me to alight the bus. I left my seat and looked back to give him the stickiest stare my drunk self could manage. As I prepared to step out of the bus, I saw him leave his seat through the periphery of my vision.
I walked down the street slowly so he could catch up. When he reached my side, I gestured him to cross the street and stop by the traffic light at the corner. It was him who spoke first.
"Pauwi ka na?"
"Yup," I replied. "Ikaw?"
"Oo."
"San ka ba?" I asked.
"Sa ____," he said.
"Dapat pala di ka na bumaba ng bus," I said innocently. "Ako, dito lang sa ____, so isang jeep na lang and I'm home."
A moment's silence, then—
"Buti sumunod ka. Bakit ka sumunod?" I asked with a pointed, hungry stare.
He gave a sly smile. "Sabi ko sa sarili ko, if you look back, susundan kita. And you did. So I'm here. Sinong kasama mo sa bahay?"
"Parents and sibling," was my short reply. He said he stays with his family as well.
"So," I began. "Anong gusto mong gawin?"
"The exact same thing you have in mind," he said with an evil gleam in his eyes.
We did not think twice. We took a jeepney to the nearest apartelle, paid the fees and went inside our (exceedingly and excruciatingly) modest room.
He went to the rest room to pee. I took my own leak after he did, and when I stepped out of the comfort room, he was already lying on the bed, shirtless.
I did not waste any minute. I took my place on the bed and locked my lips with his.
"Nakainom ka, 'no?" It was more declarative than inquiring. Nevertheless, he resumed kissing my lips and played with my tongue.
I went beyond and devoured his neck. My tongue then traveled up the side of his face and licked the inside of his ear. With the way he was moaning, I could tell that he was having a good time.
I dove down and attacked his pits, moving into his nips before doing down his navel and the bulge that teased through his sexy pair of blue undies. My eyes sparked with a hungry longing when his dick popped out of the fabric.
A thick, six-inch monster sprang out and slapped onto his flat belly. Its fair complexion enhanced the smoothness of its body, making it so enticing that it was almost irresistible.
I took in the head and submerged it with the warmth of my mouth. His moans became louder, his back arching away slightly from the bed, prompting me to do better. His moans climaxed when I buried my head against his crotch, so deeply that the head of his throbbing dick reached the depths of my tonsils.
"Fuck you," he said. "Get up and remove your shirt."
I did what I was told. "Nice," he muttered, his hands reaching out and caressing my chest. "You go to the gym?" But even before I could reply, he was already pushing me down the bed, went on top of me and took his turn to please me.
He mostly focused on my lips. He kissed, bit, and sucked on my tongue. This went on for a minute or two until he raised his head away from mine and stopped.
His lips looked as if they were brewing something. Knowing what was coming, I opened my willing mouth to receive the spit that slobbered out of his lips. He spat two times with such force that made my carnal desires escalate even more. Spitting is a huge turn on for me.
Craving more of the hardness and thickness of his tool, I pushed him to his back and sucked his cock once more. This time, though, I also cupped his balls inside my lips and licked the sensitive space between his balls and bum hole.
"Do you rim?" he asked.
I responded by pushing up his legs and bathing his crack with my tongue. But being the ass whore that I am, that wasn't enough: I spread his ass cheeks so my tongue can go in and out of his hole.
I got up to remove the rest of my clothing. When I was about to strip off my underwear, he grabbed my leg and said, "No. Stand on top of me." He motioned me to move above his face and signaled me to remove my briefs.
His face drowned in ecstasy. I lowered myself and pointed my dick into his mouth which he willingly took in. A few moments later, he ordered me to sit on his face.
I was surprised to find his dominance arousing. I did as I was told, and immediately I felt a tongue wetting my hungry hole and a finger going in.
I lifted myself off his face. I pulled a pack of condoms out of my bag and threw it to him as I fumbled through my things for the tube of lube.
He placed his hands behind his head and looked at me in the eye. "Gusto ko ikaw ang maglagay," he said, his face twitching to an evil grin.
Bring it on, I told him silently. I'll show you who's the master here.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Unaware (Pretense)
He wanted us to still talk even after the break up. I knew this would have complications, but I chose to gamble.
He checked on me out of the blue two weeks ago. It was the first time he reached out after the breakup, so I responded, and was actually engaged in the conversation.
He messaged again last week to inquire how I did in my finals. That was tolerable, and so I replied.
I swiped the notification leftwards to ignore the activity log on my phone.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Break Up Cuddle
It was getting late and hella fun. I've downed more than 10 pitchers of sangria with friends, and I was getting really, really noisy and rowdy. I was about to take another sip from my wine glass when my phone flashed a new message.
"Hey, Ryan. Are you still using this number?" It was from Jon, one of the few who was not able to join us that night. He had dinner with another set of friends in Ortigas, and driving to Greenbelt felt inconvenient.
"Yes, I am. Hello. :-)"
My simple response led from one thing to another. He wanted to check on me as I just broke up with Karl that afternoon, and was curious if I was downing pitchers of alcohol to drown the pain away.
"You must be in stitches now. Hugs, Ryan. Tagal niyo rin, ha."
Another beep, and then: "You can sleep over here if you like. Yun nga lang, wala akong extra bed."
Next thing I knew, I was on his passenger seat. He picked me up in Shaw. As we were driving through the outskirts of the Ortigas Business District, I could feel the mutual understanding that no one should know we were together. I told the gang I would go straight home when we parted.
He pulled in front of an old house. We silently tiptoed our way in so as not to awaken his housemates. Moments later, he was showing me his room.
"Masikip ang bed. You need that," he said with a smile.
He took his side of the bed as I fixed myself before sleep. The moment my body touched the mattress, he grabbed me from behind, locked my legs in his, and placed his head against the back of my neck.
"You had so much to drink," he said after a sniff. "What did you have?"
"Sangria, as always." I loved how his warm breath lightly tickles the hairs on my nape.
"How many pitchers?" I could feel his lips brushing on my ears.
"You ask difficult questions, Jon," I said sleepily. "We don't count. We just drink and stay merry all night."
But sleep was not as merry as the night out with the other boys. We slept light, waking up from time to time, becoming too conscious of how our skins touched and the boners that teased in moonlight. Conversations would punctuate the stillness of the night, while feigning ignorance of the throbbing mass that rubbed against each other as we interlocked into a tight, face-to-face embrace.
"God, Ryan," Jon muttered. "Just how much did you drink? I can still smell the wine."
Oh. He was sniffing me again.
The skin contact continued. In some moments his lips stayed too close to mine that I thought they would touch. Other times, I could feel something hard against my behind. We would talk about Karl, fall asleep, our breakup, fall asleep, the sex, fall asleep. We would later switch the discussion to the men he dated, years younger than him, the sex, the entire experience. It was a never-ending cycle until the sun was high up and it was time to leave.
We got up and dressed, not bothering that we see more of what we would normally conceal to others. After all, the last time we slept beside each other, we fucked hard. Really, really hard.
"Hey, Ryan. Are you still using this number?" It was from Jon, one of the few who was not able to join us that night. He had dinner with another set of friends in Ortigas, and driving to Greenbelt felt inconvenient.
"Yes, I am. Hello. :-)"
My simple response led from one thing to another. He wanted to check on me as I just broke up with Karl that afternoon, and was curious if I was downing pitchers of alcohol to drown the pain away.
"You must be in stitches now. Hugs, Ryan. Tagal niyo rin, ha."
Another beep, and then: "You can sleep over here if you like. Yun nga lang, wala akong extra bed."
Next thing I knew, I was on his passenger seat. He picked me up in Shaw. As we were driving through the outskirts of the Ortigas Business District, I could feel the mutual understanding that no one should know we were together. I told the gang I would go straight home when we parted.
He pulled in front of an old house. We silently tiptoed our way in so as not to awaken his housemates. Moments later, he was showing me his room.
"Masikip ang bed. You need that," he said with a smile.
He took his side of the bed as I fixed myself before sleep. The moment my body touched the mattress, he grabbed me from behind, locked my legs in his, and placed his head against the back of my neck.
"You had so much to drink," he said after a sniff. "What did you have?"
"Sangria, as always." I loved how his warm breath lightly tickles the hairs on my nape.
"How many pitchers?" I could feel his lips brushing on my ears.
"You ask difficult questions, Jon," I said sleepily. "We don't count. We just drink and stay merry all night."
But sleep was not as merry as the night out with the other boys. We slept light, waking up from time to time, becoming too conscious of how our skins touched and the boners that teased in moonlight. Conversations would punctuate the stillness of the night, while feigning ignorance of the throbbing mass that rubbed against each other as we interlocked into a tight, face-to-face embrace.
"God, Ryan," Jon muttered. "Just how much did you drink? I can still smell the wine."
Oh. He was sniffing me again.
The skin contact continued. In some moments his lips stayed too close to mine that I thought they would touch. Other times, I could feel something hard against my behind. We would talk about Karl, fall asleep, our breakup, fall asleep, the sex, fall asleep. We would later switch the discussion to the men he dated, years younger than him, the sex, the entire experience. It was a never-ending cycle until the sun was high up and it was time to leave.
We got up and dressed, not bothering that we see more of what we would normally conceal to others. After all, the last time we slept beside each other, we fucked hard. Really, really hard.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Me, talking to another friend
On my recent breakup with Karl:
Him: Speaking of, how are you?
Me: Single and bottomable.
Him: Speaking of, how are you?
Me: Single and bottomable.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Presence
A sudden nervousness jolted me awake. I could tell by the dimness of the room that the night has fallen. It would have been totally dark if not for the kitchen light that I left switched on before I went to sleep.
The nervousness transformed to panic. What time is it? I promised to just take a nap but ended up snoozing on the sofa for four long hours. I needed to get up and start school work. I have three papers to submit the coming week.
My eyes were still adjusting to the light when I realized I slept with my phone in my hand. I squinted reflexively as the glare from the 5.7-inch screen met my eyes. There were a few tweets and Facebook messages, but what grabbed my attention was the three missed calls from my sister. My heart started pumping faster than the usual. She doesn't call like this, I thought.
I got up. The wall clock showed it was already past seven. I felt disoriented and made an effort to pull myself together. Was it really a Sunday? The last thing I remembered was publishing a blog post, which I did after getting home from an orientation on the sacrament of confirmation for godparents. The orientation was scheduled on a Saturday morning. Okay, no need to panic, I said to myself.
I heard my sister blow her nose from her room upstairs. Is she back? I was heading to the farthest room from the second floor landing when I heard Dad's footsteps from the room to my right. I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I wondered why nobody bothered to wake me up.
The room was as dark and empty as it was when Dad left this afternoon to meet up with Mom.
I closed the door and surveyed the other end of the corridor. The darkness ahead told me that my sister wasn't in her room. That I was, in fact, alone in the house.
I rushed downstairs to get some fresh air. Once outside, I was met by an unusual chill from the early evening air: I could feel it slithering up my skin and sending chills down my spine. I could feel how each pore of my skin contracted, barring entry to the unknown energy that infiltrated the air. In no more than a few seconds, I was feeling numb, from the cold that came from the night and also from within.
I went back inside, grabbed my phone and started texting everyone. What does this mean? An ex-nun recently told me that I have hypersensitive senses. Underdeveloped, yes; but good enough to see, feel and hear, from time to time, what most of the population couldn't.
My messages won't send and Mom was out of reach. Impossible, I thought. My imagination sure was just running wild. They couldn't be those who I sensed. They couldn't possibly be... dead.
But where the hell are they?
The nervousness transformed to panic. What time is it? I promised to just take a nap but ended up snoozing on the sofa for four long hours. I needed to get up and start school work. I have three papers to submit the coming week.
My eyes were still adjusting to the light when I realized I slept with my phone in my hand. I squinted reflexively as the glare from the 5.7-inch screen met my eyes. There were a few tweets and Facebook messages, but what grabbed my attention was the three missed calls from my sister. My heart started pumping faster than the usual. She doesn't call like this, I thought.
I got up. The wall clock showed it was already past seven. I felt disoriented and made an effort to pull myself together. Was it really a Sunday? The last thing I remembered was publishing a blog post, which I did after getting home from an orientation on the sacrament of confirmation for godparents. The orientation was scheduled on a Saturday morning. Okay, no need to panic, I said to myself.
I heard my sister blow her nose from her room upstairs. Is she back? I was heading to the farthest room from the second floor landing when I heard Dad's footsteps from the room to my right. I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I wondered why nobody bothered to wake me up.
The room was as dark and empty as it was when Dad left this afternoon to meet up with Mom.
I closed the door and surveyed the other end of the corridor. The darkness ahead told me that my sister wasn't in her room. That I was, in fact, alone in the house.
I rushed downstairs to get some fresh air. Once outside, I was met by an unusual chill from the early evening air: I could feel it slithering up my skin and sending chills down my spine. I could feel how each pore of my skin contracted, barring entry to the unknown energy that infiltrated the air. In no more than a few seconds, I was feeling numb, from the cold that came from the night and also from within.
I went back inside, grabbed my phone and started texting everyone. What does this mean? An ex-nun recently told me that I have hypersensitive senses. Underdeveloped, yes; but good enough to see, feel and hear, from time to time, what most of the population couldn't.
My messages won't send and Mom was out of reach. Impossible, I thought. My imagination sure was just running wild. They couldn't be those who I sensed. They couldn't possibly be... dead.
But where the hell are they?
How's Karl, by the way?
"How's Karl, by the way?" my manager asked over lunch earlier this week. "I haven't heard news about him for a while."
My heart skipped a beat. The name sounded so familiar yet so distant, seemingly beyond reach despite the recency of the events that took place. But the memories remain so much real, and as my eyes fell on the skyscrapers at the distance, bits from the previous weeks flooded back to my consciousness.
It started with a Facebook post. He published a short, self-penned poem talking about doors that have already been closed, and asked why a certain person has to open them again. I was not angry but questions burned inside my head. I knew this person. Perhaps, it's my affinity and considerable proficiency for anything literary, but it was no effort unlocking the secrets presented by the short poem he wrote. I opened up to him about it in one of our bus rides home.
Calm tempered the drama that could have otherwise ensued. Karl confessed that he started looking for attention from Gelo, the guy he dated alongside myself until I requested for an exclusive partnership. Our partnership was never official, though—I wanted to be formally introduced to his family the way he was to mine, especially because his mother was a bit disapproving of our budding relationship. It did not bother me because what I had with him felt so secure that I did not see the need to ascribe labels on it.
But one confession led to another. It turned out that he was actually piggybacking on my idea of making us official. He liked that my mind worked this way, because he was actually not ready to commit.
I could not understand, at least back then. And I was honest to him about it. I could not process what that meant to me, to him and to us, and Karl was gracious enough not to force me to understand. We parted ways with no tension to fear.
Weeks passed and I felt significant changes in my behavior. Karl's messages no longer excited me. We would still talk, but talking to him became a chore. Making love felt too plain. All in all, it felt that I had to constantly keep up with the eccentricities of a 19-year-old while carefully trudging the dark spots of his conflicted persona.
People have warned me how Karl could be emotionally needy, but I chose to set those apprehensions aside. They were not mine to begin with, and I would truthfully fall short in giving Karl the time, effort and attention that he deserved. I would go on business trips and lead strategic projects at work, and I had to juggle these with the demands of my overflowing coursework this semester. It did not help that I was sick for almost three weeks (albeit not gravely), and that I have an emotionally deprived mother, ingrate sister and apathetic father waiting for me every night when I go home.
Yet, when I did have free time, I would spend it in the gym, cruising for guys to fool around with after each workout instead of spending my free time with Karl.
That was when I finally admitted to myself that my (pseudo) relationship with Karl was not something I needed. After several tears were shed and bundles of guilt confronted, we officially parted ways last Monday.
* * *
"Ryan?"
I snapped back to my senses. My manager was waiting for a response. She was surveying me with questioning eyes, sparkling with a confused mix of concern, wonder, and anticipation.
"Oh, uh," I began. "I—we were—we were together just yesterday. He's okay," I finished before diving once more into what was left of my lunch.
My heart skipped a beat. The name sounded so familiar yet so distant, seemingly beyond reach despite the recency of the events that took place. But the memories remain so much real, and as my eyes fell on the skyscrapers at the distance, bits from the previous weeks flooded back to my consciousness.
It started with a Facebook post. He published a short, self-penned poem talking about doors that have already been closed, and asked why a certain person has to open them again. I was not angry but questions burned inside my head. I knew this person. Perhaps, it's my affinity and considerable proficiency for anything literary, but it was no effort unlocking the secrets presented by the short poem he wrote. I opened up to him about it in one of our bus rides home.
Calm tempered the drama that could have otherwise ensued. Karl confessed that he started looking for attention from Gelo, the guy he dated alongside myself until I requested for an exclusive partnership. Our partnership was never official, though—I wanted to be formally introduced to his family the way he was to mine, especially because his mother was a bit disapproving of our budding relationship. It did not bother me because what I had with him felt so secure that I did not see the need to ascribe labels on it.
But one confession led to another. It turned out that he was actually piggybacking on my idea of making us official. He liked that my mind worked this way, because he was actually not ready to commit.
I could not understand, at least back then. And I was honest to him about it. I could not process what that meant to me, to him and to us, and Karl was gracious enough not to force me to understand. We parted ways with no tension to fear.
Weeks passed and I felt significant changes in my behavior. Karl's messages no longer excited me. We would still talk, but talking to him became a chore. Making love felt too plain. All in all, it felt that I had to constantly keep up with the eccentricities of a 19-year-old while carefully trudging the dark spots of his conflicted persona.
People have warned me how Karl could be emotionally needy, but I chose to set those apprehensions aside. They were not mine to begin with, and I would truthfully fall short in giving Karl the time, effort and attention that he deserved. I would go on business trips and lead strategic projects at work, and I had to juggle these with the demands of my overflowing coursework this semester. It did not help that I was sick for almost three weeks (albeit not gravely), and that I have an emotionally deprived mother, ingrate sister and apathetic father waiting for me every night when I go home.
Yet, when I did have free time, I would spend it in the gym, cruising for guys to fool around with after each workout instead of spending my free time with Karl.
That was when I finally admitted to myself that my (pseudo) relationship with Karl was not something I needed. After several tears were shed and bundles of guilt confronted, we officially parted ways last Monday.
* * *
"Ryan?"
I snapped back to my senses. My manager was waiting for a response. She was surveying me with questioning eyes, sparkling with a confused mix of concern, wonder, and anticipation.
"Oh, uh," I began. "I—we were—we were together just yesterday. He's okay," I finished before diving once more into what was left of my lunch.
Karl
I know that somewhere—where we first met, where we had our first date, where we first made love, where you would wait for me after class, where we first kissed, in that field under all those stars—somewhere, anywhere—you must be singing this song. And I know how you are feeling. It's just that I chose to be free.
And I'm sorry.
And I'm sorry.
Lyrics here.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Quarter Life, Part 1
A few weeks back, I was thinking of publishing an entry about the struggles of quarter life.
I always knew what to do with my life and how to do it. I remember creating a road map with a number of milestones, or "pitstops," as I called them, and I have been doing well with the race until everything seemed to start crumbling down.
Things started going astray when I let myself go. You see, I moved to a messed up organization to help in the fixing. I was 22 at that time and was already head of a unit in our department---to the amazement and admiration of everyone, but to no surprise to myself. I knew I had some skill to do it; all I need was proper upskilling and mentoring. I've always had a good understanding of my capabilities.
I was doing well. So well that, in fact, my role expanded very fast. I was assigned to handle Internal Communications after seven months. I started doing major projects for our department head, usually handling audit reviews and automation initiatives. Everyone admired me but for one peculiarity: I was not making friends.
I did go along well with my officemates, but my relationship with them was superficial. I didn't want to get too close to my colleagues. I didn't want to be the incompetent happy-go-lucky's that they are. Knowing how I easily adapt the behaviors of the people around me, I built invisible and imperturbable walls between me and the rest. I was protected, nurtured by the knowledge and belongingness I receive from outside the corporate world.
But everything had to change when I hired somebody for my team. He used to be my intern, and I immediately saw the potential. I kept so close a contact with him that he started reporting to me the day after he graduated from college.
I wanted him to be the employee that I am and I am not. I wanted him to actualize the potential I saw in him, but also wanted him to be close with our colleagues. I wanted him to enjoy that sense of belongingness I do not receive from them. I knew I had to set a good example if I was to make this possible, and so I finally immersed myself with the rest.
Six months later, I found myself lazy, slow and too comfortable. I've become like them, but it's good no one has noticed. Yet.
* * *
I went on a three-day getaway for one of my classes earlier this semester. We study group processes in this subject, and our weekend getaway introduced us to the concept of structured vs. unstructured, of being highly task oriented or leading "executive function" style (among other approaches to group leadership). The weekend had no particular purpose: we were just there to interact.
Understanding unstructuredness was my greatest challenge. I was constantly being asked why I needed to put structure in the group (e.g. setting up itineraries, sticking to our agreed timetables) when we didn't go there for anything specific in the first place. People who had taken this class often described me as an "EF" or Executive Function, and this weekend getaway finally revealed that it meant being highly organized, too meticulous, and extremely methodical. It appeared that being structured and being EF is a development area for people like me.
After returning from the getaway, I came to a resolve to let others take charge, to relinquish control, to just let things happen without trying to influence the outcome too much.
* * *
I dreaded writing my first ever paper for this semester. More than it being about the three-day getaway that we had, the last time I tried to write, nothing substantial came out.
I would be extremely lucky if I was able to piece together a no-brainer paragraph without having to double check for coherence and grammatical and syntax errors. Ideas do form inside my head, but my fingers simply couldn't translate these into written words. Was it lack of new vocabulary? No new word sticks to my vocabulary despite reading and reading them all over. I'm stuck with just what I already know.
* * *
Learning in itself has become a deliberate concern. You see, when you are enrolled in one of the most competitive graduate schools in the country, there is no room for your mind to slack off. Yet, despite pushing myself so hard, my mind would just not lend the stretch it so willingly gave when I started graduate school three semesters back.
And so, it was apt (and disappointing) to declare that I was no longer learning in graduate school. I was even hugely convinced that I would not survive this semester: three subjects, all heavy, all requiring not just theoretical understanding but more importantly, full blown application. Just last Tuesday, I attempted to facilitate a structured learning exercise that terribly failed. That night, I thought that perhaps applying for a leave of absence is most suitable, despite being just one semester away from my comprehensive exams. I wanted graduated school so much but I was tired, so tired that I could literally feel myself shattering, and I need time to pick up the pieces.
That was until last night.
* * *
I just came out of an 8-hour workshop that two classmates and I facilitated. It was a major requirement for one of our classes this semester, and our professor came to observe.
She congratulated and thanked us profusely after the program. More than a class requirement, it was community service for her: we trained public school teachers from our department's adopted community. The teachers were giving so much positive feedback that our professor is exploring the possibility of having us run it again for a different set of audience.
I felt happy but not as proud. I was teamed up with two trainers by profession, and I was certain they contributed so much more than I did in making the program a huge success.
But then one of them, the more senior one, approached me and highlighted the things that I did well. She loved how I was able to resurface the energy of the group after it dwindled during the module before mine. She loved how I appeared so much like an experienced facilitator despite running a workshop for the first time. She was echoing what my professor said a while back, and I felt so much elated, now sure that I can do all those things I doubted about myself.
Sometimes, all we need is a little validation.
* * *
I had a number of realizations as I packed my stuff after the workshop. I have been exceedingly uncertain these past few months, feeling extremely tired, and I've never felt so down in the 24 years I've been in this world. And all started with one simple mistake: lack of preparation. I was not prepared to let my guard down and accept the idiosyncrasies of my officemates. I was not prepared to be highly unstructured. I was always confident because nothing was unsure, but these past few months, in my attempt to be more unstructured and less EF, I felt so confused and heavily derailed. I no longer recognized myself.
This loss of identity may have what suppressed my ability to write. The art I loved became my greatest predicament---nothing academic nor creative flows out. I have become so accustomed to writing business style that it became all that I knew. It must have seeped the creativity out of the writing process that once made me a highly regarded academic writer and a multi-awarded campus journalist (and perhaps, a controversial NSFW blogger. :p)
I went for the door and hurried to the other building. Another challenge awaits, and this time, I admit that, despite a number of preparations, I still find myself unprepared.
Both of our parents would be there. How do I finally break it off with him?
I always knew what to do with my life and how to do it. I remember creating a road map with a number of milestones, or "pitstops," as I called them, and I have been doing well with the race until everything seemed to start crumbling down.
Things started going astray when I let myself go. You see, I moved to a messed up organization to help in the fixing. I was 22 at that time and was already head of a unit in our department---to the amazement and admiration of everyone, but to no surprise to myself. I knew I had some skill to do it; all I need was proper upskilling and mentoring. I've always had a good understanding of my capabilities.
I was doing well. So well that, in fact, my role expanded very fast. I was assigned to handle Internal Communications after seven months. I started doing major projects for our department head, usually handling audit reviews and automation initiatives. Everyone admired me but for one peculiarity: I was not making friends.
I did go along well with my officemates, but my relationship with them was superficial. I didn't want to get too close to my colleagues. I didn't want to be the incompetent happy-go-lucky's that they are. Knowing how I easily adapt the behaviors of the people around me, I built invisible and imperturbable walls between me and the rest. I was protected, nurtured by the knowledge and belongingness I receive from outside the corporate world.
But everything had to change when I hired somebody for my team. He used to be my intern, and I immediately saw the potential. I kept so close a contact with him that he started reporting to me the day after he graduated from college.
I wanted him to be the employee that I am and I am not. I wanted him to actualize the potential I saw in him, but also wanted him to be close with our colleagues. I wanted him to enjoy that sense of belongingness I do not receive from them. I knew I had to set a good example if I was to make this possible, and so I finally immersed myself with the rest.
Six months later, I found myself lazy, slow and too comfortable. I've become like them, but it's good no one has noticed. Yet.
* * *
I went on a three-day getaway for one of my classes earlier this semester. We study group processes in this subject, and our weekend getaway introduced us to the concept of structured vs. unstructured, of being highly task oriented or leading "executive function" style (among other approaches to group leadership). The weekend had no particular purpose: we were just there to interact.
Understanding unstructuredness was my greatest challenge. I was constantly being asked why I needed to put structure in the group (e.g. setting up itineraries, sticking to our agreed timetables) when we didn't go there for anything specific in the first place. People who had taken this class often described me as an "EF" or Executive Function, and this weekend getaway finally revealed that it meant being highly organized, too meticulous, and extremely methodical. It appeared that being structured and being EF is a development area for people like me.
After returning from the getaway, I came to a resolve to let others take charge, to relinquish control, to just let things happen without trying to influence the outcome too much.
* * *
I dreaded writing my first ever paper for this semester. More than it being about the three-day getaway that we had, the last time I tried to write, nothing substantial came out.
I would be extremely lucky if I was able to piece together a no-brainer paragraph without having to double check for coherence and grammatical and syntax errors. Ideas do form inside my head, but my fingers simply couldn't translate these into written words. Was it lack of new vocabulary? No new word sticks to my vocabulary despite reading and reading them all over. I'm stuck with just what I already know.
* * *
Learning in itself has become a deliberate concern. You see, when you are enrolled in one of the most competitive graduate schools in the country, there is no room for your mind to slack off. Yet, despite pushing myself so hard, my mind would just not lend the stretch it so willingly gave when I started graduate school three semesters back.
And so, it was apt (and disappointing) to declare that I was no longer learning in graduate school. I was even hugely convinced that I would not survive this semester: three subjects, all heavy, all requiring not just theoretical understanding but more importantly, full blown application. Just last Tuesday, I attempted to facilitate a structured learning exercise that terribly failed. That night, I thought that perhaps applying for a leave of absence is most suitable, despite being just one semester away from my comprehensive exams. I wanted graduated school so much but I was tired, so tired that I could literally feel myself shattering, and I need time to pick up the pieces.
That was until last night.
* * *
I just came out of an 8-hour workshop that two classmates and I facilitated. It was a major requirement for one of our classes this semester, and our professor came to observe.
She congratulated and thanked us profusely after the program. More than a class requirement, it was community service for her: we trained public school teachers from our department's adopted community. The teachers were giving so much positive feedback that our professor is exploring the possibility of having us run it again for a different set of audience.
I felt happy but not as proud. I was teamed up with two trainers by profession, and I was certain they contributed so much more than I did in making the program a huge success.
But then one of them, the more senior one, approached me and highlighted the things that I did well. She loved how I was able to resurface the energy of the group after it dwindled during the module before mine. She loved how I appeared so much like an experienced facilitator despite running a workshop for the first time. She was echoing what my professor said a while back, and I felt so much elated, now sure that I can do all those things I doubted about myself.
Sometimes, all we need is a little validation.
* * *
I had a number of realizations as I packed my stuff after the workshop. I have been exceedingly uncertain these past few months, feeling extremely tired, and I've never felt so down in the 24 years I've been in this world. And all started with one simple mistake: lack of preparation. I was not prepared to let my guard down and accept the idiosyncrasies of my officemates. I was not prepared to be highly unstructured. I was always confident because nothing was unsure, but these past few months, in my attempt to be more unstructured and less EF, I felt so confused and heavily derailed. I no longer recognized myself.
This loss of identity may have what suppressed my ability to write. The art I loved became my greatest predicament---nothing academic nor creative flows out. I have become so accustomed to writing business style that it became all that I knew. It must have seeped the creativity out of the writing process that once made me a highly regarded academic writer and a multi-awarded campus journalist (and perhaps, a controversial NSFW blogger. :p)
I went for the door and hurried to the other building. Another challenge awaits, and this time, I admit that, despite a number of preparations, I still find myself unprepared.
Both of our parents would be there. How do I finally break it off with him?
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Me, talking to a friend
"...Then there's another just last Wednesday. My first time in Gold's Galleria. I wasn't planning to shower and so I settled to washing my face in the sink. There's this bad boy looking, skinhead and bearded super hot guy that took the spot beside me. I knew he wanted something with the lustful look he was giving me. Then he removed his towel in front of me to show his dick.
Followed him in the sauna after. I massaged my crotch to show that I was interested, but there were three other guys in there.
He suddenly went beside me and touched me all over. Sucked my nipples while feeling my bulge. I reciprocated and did the same. I was surprised when he took out my dick and sucked it like a hungry whore. An older guy made advances but he pushed him away. We ended up sucking and licking each other while everyone else was watching. It was hot."
Followed him in the sauna after. I massaged my crotch to show that I was interested, but there were three other guys in there.
He suddenly went beside me and touched me all over. Sucked my nipples while feeling my bulge. I reciprocated and did the same. I was surprised when he took out my dick and sucked it like a hungry whore. An older guy made advances but he pushed him away. We ended up sucking and licking each other while everyone else was watching. It was hot."
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Fucktard
No, I don't want to make love.
I want to fuck—sht
Pump hard and make him my cum dump
Suck my man juice out of his hungry hole
And spit it into his eager mouth after
Then we will switch roles:
He'll punish me with his cock
until my hole helplessly gapes
He'll feed me with his seed
But this boy is insatiable, no
Because he is one dirty cum pig.
I want to fuck—sht
Pump hard and make him my cum dump
Suck my man juice out of his hungry hole
And spit it into his eager mouth after
Then we will switch roles:
He'll punish me with his cock
until my hole helplessly gapes
He'll feed me with his seed
But this boy is insatiable, no
Because he is one dirty cum pig.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Monday, September 8, 2014
Post Workout
He was seated on a wooden bench perpendicular to mine. I would catch him casting a searching look toward my direction, and my eyes would wander pointlessly around the room---to avoid his gaze, yet barely resisting the intoxicating air that the room was breathing out.
His hands started fondling a growing bulge underneath the towel around his waist. My head nodded, so automatically as if it was instinctive, in an invitation for him to come closer.
I wrapped my hands around his manhood. It was rock hard, far from what I have come accustomed to. He returned the favor and moved his fist up and down mine. His fingers later flickered around my nips, and then gestured me to have a taste of his cock.
I dove into his crotch like a famished man. What it lacked in length was compensated by the girth---in no time, my mouth felt so full, savoring the sturdy hardness that my tongue no longer gets to taste. In parallel, his hand traveled onto my hole, tempting and teasing, requesting for entry.
We moved in a shower cubicle. The man worship continued: I devoured as much meat my throat could handle; he wanted entry but having no rubber, I declined; and found ourselves shooting our loads in no time. Having satisfied a destructive fantasy, I left him inside the cubicle to shower.
I unlocked my locker and pulled out my phone. As I replied to a message left by my boyfriend, everything around me seemed to dissolve into darkness.
His hands started fondling a growing bulge underneath the towel around his waist. My head nodded, so automatically as if it was instinctive, in an invitation for him to come closer.
I wrapped my hands around his manhood. It was rock hard, far from what I have come accustomed to. He returned the favor and moved his fist up and down mine. His fingers later flickered around my nips, and then gestured me to have a taste of his cock.
I dove into his crotch like a famished man. What it lacked in length was compensated by the girth---in no time, my mouth felt so full, savoring the sturdy hardness that my tongue no longer gets to taste. In parallel, his hand traveled onto my hole, tempting and teasing, requesting for entry.
We moved in a shower cubicle. The man worship continued: I devoured as much meat my throat could handle; he wanted entry but having no rubber, I declined; and found ourselves shooting our loads in no time. Having satisfied a destructive fantasy, I left him inside the cubicle to shower.
I unlocked my locker and pulled out my phone. As I replied to a message left by my boyfriend, everything around me seemed to dissolve into darkness.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Only When I Sleep
Your touch is silken, yet
It reaches through my skin
Moving from within
And clutches at my breast
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CjLQ-_DQPA
It reaches through my skin
Moving from within
And clutches at my breast
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CjLQ-_DQPA
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Independence Day
My heart started pumping fast. Somewhere in my peripheral vision, a familiar face showed up.
One that I wasn't sure I was ready to see.
My feet continued to trudge the speed of the treadmill while my mind filled with a hodgepodge of thoughts. At one point, I recalled how I took a liking of him. At another, I remembered how his dick used to slide smoothly into my throat.
How he used to plow my ass real good.
A few minutes passed. It felt that my usual 20-minute running routine was taking longer than usual to finish. By the end of the 20th minute, I hit the "Stop" button—and instead of stretching my muscles with the rowing machine like I always do, I went straight to the leg press beside where he was doing pull ups.
"Hey," I greeted with a small wave. I then sat in position, adjusted the weights and started with my leg press.
"Oh, hi!" he greeted back. "What are you doing here?"
He wondered why I was not in Makati. It slipped his mind that it's a holiday. We exchanged some more small talk before going on our separate ways to carry on our individual routines.
I couldn't concentrate. A small part of me was feeling that dangerous, exhilarated feeling I used to get when indulging into the blunders of the past. Another bit was dismissing the confusion in my thoughts, convinced that my worries were groundless. But mostly, I was scared—of the consequences, of the pain I would surely cause—if I find myself engulfed in the flames of lust again.
Why do these kinds of situations keep putting me into a test recently?
After an hour, I went to the locker room to change. He was nowhere to be seen. There was only one place where he could be, and knowing where to go, I stripped into my underwear, took a quick shower, and went into the sauna.
He started the conversation this time. We talked about my job, his decision to defer residency for corporate work, my plans to take PhD, his plans to take his residency overseas. The conversation mellowed as we talked, and then he asked about my partner.
Oh.
It was at this point where I completely loosened up. He knew, and he didn't seem to have any intention to tease, to drag me into the vortex of lust we used to share. To my surprise, to be honest, as this was very far from the aggressiveness I had to dodge previously whenever he would ask for sensual favors. I was caught in complete awe, in admiration.
He offered me a ride like how he always did. I willingly obliged, wanting to know more about this man who seemed to have changed in a considerably short span of time.
We talked about random things: my guy, our shared interest in EDM and trance, Armin's recently concluded Intense tour in Manila, Distillery as a social laboratory, his occasional adventures with E, my partiality with MJ. Moments passed and I did not notice; in what seemed like just a minute, it was time to get off his car.
I thanked him, shook his hand and shut the door. As I waited for my next ride, I felt convinced that we will see each other again.
One that I wasn't sure I was ready to see.
My feet continued to trudge the speed of the treadmill while my mind filled with a hodgepodge of thoughts. At one point, I recalled how I took a liking of him. At another, I remembered how his dick used to slide smoothly into my throat.
How he used to plow my ass real good.
A few minutes passed. It felt that my usual 20-minute running routine was taking longer than usual to finish. By the end of the 20th minute, I hit the "Stop" button—and instead of stretching my muscles with the rowing machine like I always do, I went straight to the leg press beside where he was doing pull ups.
"Hey," I greeted with a small wave. I then sat in position, adjusted the weights and started with my leg press.
"Oh, hi!" he greeted back. "What are you doing here?"
He wondered why I was not in Makati. It slipped his mind that it's a holiday. We exchanged some more small talk before going on our separate ways to carry on our individual routines.
I couldn't concentrate. A small part of me was feeling that dangerous, exhilarated feeling I used to get when indulging into the blunders of the past. Another bit was dismissing the confusion in my thoughts, convinced that my worries were groundless. But mostly, I was scared—of the consequences, of the pain I would surely cause—if I find myself engulfed in the flames of lust again.
Why do these kinds of situations keep putting me into a test recently?
After an hour, I went to the locker room to change. He was nowhere to be seen. There was only one place where he could be, and knowing where to go, I stripped into my underwear, took a quick shower, and went into the sauna.
He started the conversation this time. We talked about my job, his decision to defer residency for corporate work, my plans to take PhD, his plans to take his residency overseas. The conversation mellowed as we talked, and then he asked about my partner.
Oh.
It was at this point where I completely loosened up. He knew, and he didn't seem to have any intention to tease, to drag me into the vortex of lust we used to share. To my surprise, to be honest, as this was very far from the aggressiveness I had to dodge previously whenever he would ask for sensual favors. I was caught in complete awe, in admiration.
He offered me a ride like how he always did. I willingly obliged, wanting to know more about this man who seemed to have changed in a considerably short span of time.
We talked about random things: my guy, our shared interest in EDM and trance, Armin's recently concluded Intense tour in Manila, Distillery as a social laboratory, his occasional adventures with E, my partiality with MJ. Moments passed and I did not notice; in what seemed like just a minute, it was time to get off his car.
I thanked him, shook his hand and shut the door. As I waited for my next ride, I felt convinced that we will see each other again.
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