The Inner Slut

I was just on the phone with my Dale and we were talking about our fascination with surveillance. He'd rather call it stalking. We both like the idea of gathering information about people. I like the use of gadgets in getting information, to sell, or to use against the person. You know, to put me in a position of power over the subject, or the "stalkee."

Dale: You'd be surprised how much information about a person you can get from his trash.

Me: I know. That's why I shred my papers. I don't just crumple 'em and throw 'em in the trash.

Dale: You're not paranoid, are you?

Me: Yup! Me, I'm paranoid, a conspiracy theorist, and now, a stalker.

Dale: We should put up Stalkers Anonymous.

Me: Yeah, and you could be the president with me as your vice!

Dale: ...(mumbling to someone in the room)... Sorry, sweetheart. I got to go. Bernadine's in the other office.

Me: Oh. She's there? (She's the owner of the business.)

Dale: Yeah. She arrived early this morning. Had to move my car so she could land her broomstick.

Me: Mmm. Very Wicked Witch of the West, is she, this morning?

Dale: You can't imagine. I'll see you soon, sweetheart.

Me: I miss you.

Dale: And I miss you. Let me just get March out of the way, baby. Then things will go back to normal.

It's been seven weeks, I think. This is going to be a long March.

Chatting with Terry earlier. He's in Hong Kong. He's coming back end of the month and wants to photograph me. He says my face is very photographable. Well, he is, after all, a professional shutterbug so... I've always thought of myself as unphotogenic. Let's see what the guy can do. If he can make me look gorgeous, I shall sing his praises (as a photographer) to the high heavens. And he says I'm sexy. I miss him.

But I miss Bill the X-G-Man more. I shouldn't have looked at his photos -- again. Gadz, but these men are so hard to hold. Then again, why should I hold on to them? I really have to get out of this mindset. Love isn't possessive nor is it possessory. There is no such thing as acquisitive prescription in the case of people. You don't register title to ownership of someone. You don't annotate liens or encumbrances on them... Wait...This is all sounding so familiar...Oh, yeah. Isn't this what marriage is all about?

When a guy asks you that, what do you say? Woud you be at a loss for words? I wasn't. I had a ready answer. Only because I'd thought about it years ago. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it came from Terry. He is, after all, Scorpio.

Scorpio people have always been intense. They're emotive and emotional which is very difficult to handle, especially when you're trying to have a fun time. I should know. I'm one of them.

Saturday evening, I joined Terry in Malate, an old district of Manila where you find all sorts of bars, restos, cafes, discos and, recently, beggars. It was totally depressing. Women with babies in their arms, amputees and children covered in grime and grit off the streets -- all begging for small change to buy food with. But we all know the truth: they work for syndicates that take these people from their home provinces and scatter them all over the metro to beg. The money they get, they "remit" to their handlers who, more often than not, turn over the proceeds to the local police. Considering that mendicancy is a crime in this jurisdiction, the entire mess actually makes sense.

Perfect scenario to bring out the intense emotional side of Scorpio people. It didn't help that we started the evening discussing the present state of the local economy, the circus that's the national elections slated for the second Monday of May, and every depressing thing that comes with the subject matter at hand.

Listening to Terry and feeling around his emotions, I realized just how heavily emotive I can get myself, and pitied my friends who have to put up with such outbursts. But this commonality all the more endeared this man to me.

There is, however, this one thing Terry -- and Bill, for that matter -- exudes: there is no room in his life for another relationship. Terry's married to a Filpina although they don't live together. According to him, they have a peculiar arrangement. I didn't delve into that. He has two kids with two different women, both eight years old. In Bill's case, he's divorced and has had two relationships after that. Failed, according to him, because he can't have children anymore. He's had a vasectomy.

Bill, for his part, has bought a condo unit in Makati. He says this is the first time he's bought property in, and brought money into, the country. I guess he found it interesting enough to come back to Manila.

So. Have I ever been in love?

Before Dale, no. Am I in love with this man? I don't know anymore. I haven't seen him in six or seven weeks and I'm starting to think that losing him wouldn't be such a huge loss. It's because of the other men I'm seeing, I suppose. Diversion. Not such a bad thing, is it? Does this make me fickle? Or shallow?

No, who the fuck am I kidding! I love my Dale. I guess I'm just trapped in this exclusivity concept. It is difficult to shift paradigms at this age, after a lifetime of conditioning. Faith, that's what we have. And shoud I in the meantime play with other men, that doesn't mean I love him less. That's just the reality of it, he ain't mine and will never be mine.

Like I said, I've never been in love -- before Dale.

Talked to my Dale today on the phone. He was having problems printing an email attachment, a graphic, some spoof of the MS Explorer menus.

"I keep getting this Photo something or other program..." he said.

"Photo Something?" I asked, my brows coming together. "Are you downloading to Yahoo Photos?"

"Ah -- yes. Why?"

"Sweetie, why don't you just download the thing to your harddrive, and open it and print it from there?"

A moment of silence.

"You know," he croons over the phone. "You're not just a pretty face."

Ah, me. He, a highly accomplished industrial engineer and me, a mere lawyer-wanna-be. But he's so lovable.

The Alex/Felix Experience revisited

I've finally understood why Alex/Felix "rejected" me, i.e., refused to be my Dom. (See post of 28 August 2003.) Surprisingly, it was Pia, that silly little tart (see post of 3 February 2004), who gave me the answer. At that time, I didn't realize the import of her statement.

She asked me that night if I knew how long Alex/Felix had been a Dom. I said it was something like 15 years, either that or since he was 15 years old. I couldn't remember. She had smiled and shaken her head. I didn't pursue it anymore as it was starting to feel strange that she apparently thought it significant that she knew more about him -- and the rest -- than I did. I figured that one out some days later. Thinking about it some more, it suddenly hit me: Alex/Felix "rejected" my offer to be his sub because he got scared.

He hadn't been a Dom too long, from the Silly Tart's insinuations. And there I was, thinking I'd found a real Dom and so, offered to be a real sub. What an idiot I was. I just had to take it as rejection. I really have to teach myself to point the finger at the other person and ask myself: What's wrong with him?

Alex/Felix, just like the rest of the worthless lot, got scared of me.

Amazing.

And Mau?

Ah. Now, that one I get the feeling got scared because he realized, after reading my blog (this one in particular), that I was into this alternative lifestyle in earnest. And I did lie to him. I did tell him that I'd met only a couple of guys from this website. Which was true, in a way. Of course, there are other websites...

That was bad, I know. But I don't think I'm cut out to be a pure sub. Mara's right: I'm a switch. Or perhaps I should make my own category: a spoiled brat. I love to be spoiled and whipped playfully on the ass, my hair grabbed and pulled, my pussy punished, my ass fucked against my will. But I will do only what I feel like doing. If I don't want to suck cock, no amount of forceful words will get your cock sucked.

Bill

There are some men that you just don't forget. Bill the Ex-G-Man is one of those. He is such an intriguing and mysterious guy. He's the type who's going to live his life exactly as he wants to live it, and you cannot in any way interfere with that. I'm just play for him, that's for sure. His life is not open to me. No vacancies there. So I might as well settle for rare visits.

That's alright. I love his pale blue eyes. Cornflower blue. His mild southern drawl and quick wit. He loves words. Words, words, words.

Dig a little deeper, baby, I muttered to him when he complained that I'd taken away my breasts from him (they were under the covers). And he proceeded to make up a few stanzas of rhymed verses from that. Gads, but that man's appeal is just too strong to resist.

He called the night after, sounding so very sweet on the phone. I guess I sounded a little uncertain, uncomfortable -- withdrawn. I hope that didn't turn him off. I so desperately want him to so desperately want me.

I want him to think of me as more than just a pretty face.

Thursday evening, was with Terry, mid-40s, Aussie, ex-journalist, 25 years gallivanting around Asia, presently an employee for a large multinational company in some industry or other. Big guy -- in all respects, very generous. Very horny. Trust a Scorpio to stir things up a bit. It was exciting. Watched me as I rubbed my clit and squirmed under his legs that were as thick as tree trunks.

He loved to eat pussy and he did mine, with three thick fingers up my pussy hole. I kept bucking up and down to feel those fingers go in and out of me. That was great.

Friday evening, late, very late, found myself with an ex-G-man (have to be really careful with this one's identity now) who I'll call Bill. Also in his 40's, handsome and very manly. Dark blonde hair, light blue eyes, very sensitive but you get the impression that he could very easily break your neck if he thought it was necessary to do so.

My evening with Bill has got to be the most interesting I've had with anyone so far. He was staying at a friend's place. He had invited me to sleep over and I did. He is the most riveting man I've met in my entire life. I felt like I could sit at his feet and listen to him for an eternity. He also is a very horny guy, says he can fuck five to six times a day, everyday. Wow. And although he's not into D/s, he certainly knew how to do verbal humiliation, calling me a whore and a bitch, and his breeding slut.

He'd earlier told me that he'd had a vasectomy but I guess he found it such a turn-on to just force himself on me without a condom (oh, gadz, but that turned me on sooo much!), that he started going on about how he wanted to see if I trusted him enough with that disclosure about his vasectomy and let him just shoot his cum deep in me. Of course, that did it for me. He fucked me for some 15 to 20 minutes, continuously, and hissing these things in my ear. It was absolutely amazing. A sub's dream come true.

I usually insist on the guy wearing a condom but in this case, I just had to forego it. I was rubbing the head of his cock on my clit and it felt so damn good. And then he started pushing it in my pussy hole just a bit and pulling it out again. It was so delicious, I couldn't resist him seriously. But I did try. When he started pushing it in deeper and it became apparent that he was going to fuck me right there and then, despite my protestations, weak as they are, I felt a thrill go up and down my spine. It was so exciting. I would have wanted more rough play but, well, I guess it was as exciting for him as it was for me. So when he rammed that fucker in me, deep, I found myself drowning in fulfilled anticipation and sensual pleasure.

Not that he had a large dick. It wasn't as big as Terry's but it was damn hard and it felt good in me.

Sunday afternoon, Nelson and I met with Jim and Rose for an afternoon by Taal Lake. Interestingly enough, Jim, in his mid-50s, turned out to have a magic tongue and very talented fingers. Of course, not gifted like my Dale but there's talent there, oh, yes. Small, flaccid dick, despite the viagra, but, well, can't have everything.

Jim had handed me the video camera in the van and I made good use of it. I shot Rose fucking Nelson in the backseat, and later on, in the room. I got a good shot of her on Nelson, sucking on his enormous monster hard-on (Jim gave Nelson half a viagra tablet). It was a voyeur's delight.

Mother Nature capped the evening with a small eruption from the volcano, from one of its craters. Not the major one, but one of the resort owners told us that they felt a small earthquake the night before. I said it was probably the volcano releasing pressure. He nodded in agreement. It wasn't a big explosion, but we could see lava shooting some distance up in the air. The lava flow was a growing long bright scar on the peak. A fitting end to an erotic week, I should say.

There was a series of small eruptions and I would have wanted to stay and watch but Jim had decided that it was time to drive us all out of that place. Too bad. I would have wanted to go out on the boat with the German owners and take a closer look.

We're going back sometime in April. Seems promising. I still miss my Dale, but I'm secretly hoping Bill and Terry would turn out to be regulars. They both were looking for a mature woman a reasonably intelligent man could talk to after a good fuck, and they seemed to have found that in me.

I seem to have this strange feeling about Bill, though, like nothing about him is what it appears to be. His birthday is coming up soon, and he invited me to Thailand to be at the opening of this restaurant he's putting up with friends. He had asked me if I had travelled much and I admitted that, although I've been all over the islands, I've never been out of the country. He said that he would have to remedy that. Interesting. He is such an intriguing guy.

But I still miss my Dale.

There seems to be an increase in the activity of netizens in the personals sites these days. I mean, really, during the last quarter of last year till January this year, I haven't had much invitation from fresh blood. Then, of a sudden, my inboxes (uh, yes, I happen to be all over the net) are full. Interestingly, most are men in their mid-40s to mid-50s looking for a long-term relationship.

Curious.

I haven't heard much from Dale these days. He says he's busy trying to meet deadlines in production. Not that he hasn't sent me text messages or called me up once a day. He has. All I can do is have faith. In what? Not much. At least, I have others to play with.

Curiouser.

Nelson and I will be meeting with this couple this Sunday. American guy married to a local. Mature couple, professional. The guy, Jim, loves to talk, listen to himself. Pretty much like Nelson. Rose, the wife, seems to be a little prudish, or likes to play hard-to-get, I don't know. We're going up to Tagaytay on Sunday, maybe do a little swimming or hobie sailing. Let's see.

And then there's Alex. (See post of 23 September 2003) He sent me email asking to see me again. Maybe his girlfriend's out of the country again. My goodness, this week's gonna be busy. Jim and Rose on Sunday, Terry on Thursday evening, Bill on Friday evening. That leaves me Saturday for laundry and domestic stuff. Good thing Nelson's not coming over Saturday evening.