The Inner Slut

I can't stop laughing. I've just been on the phone with my Dale who left last Friday, the 21st, for New York on a business trip. Yep, he was calling from his hotel room in New York. I was still in Baguio with Carl when I received his text message saying he was waiting to get on the plane for the city that never sleeps. I felt so bad that he had to leave without our seeing each other, and that I was with another man without his knowing. Guilt? No, just regret.

I was with a girlfriend, Irene, on Tuesday evening, crying with her over this selfish and fickle guy who she describes as the one guy she'd marry at the drop of a hat. Well, my Dale is that guy for me. Not the selfish and fickle, but the one I'd marry at the drop of the hat. Hell, I'd marry him even before that hat touched the floor. Unfortunately, it's not meant to be.

I'd sent him email pouring out my heart at my frustration borne out of dealing with the stupid office accountant and her equally stupid, if not more, idiot clerk. I'd chided him, teasingly, for leaving without seeing me, and signed it, "Your virtual friend, Emyn."

We've a running joke about how our relationship has evolved onto the virtual plane (read: I don't see you anymore) and that I should put up a website as an altar to such an intellectual tandem. That always gets his goat. It was that that compelled him to pick up the phone and ring me.

Dale: Yes, but how many girls have their boyfriend fly off to New York on business?

Me: That doesn't change the fact that what we have is a virtual relationship.

Dale: (scoffing) Virtual relationship...You have a jetsetter boyfriend!

Me: (singing) That don't impress me much! You're my phone pal.

Dale: (lauhging) I am not! I'm your jetsetter playboy!

Me: Mmmm. My jetsetter playboy virtual phone pal.

I love to hear him laugh. I just love his laugh: something halfway between a sneeze and a chuckle. He has a guffaw, though. I love that more.

What do I do with this guy? As I was saying to Irene, these are the men you never forget, those who make you feel so special like there was no one else for them. Men who get inside of you, in more ways than one, and lift you up, hold you up and revere you for everything that you are and are not.

When we agreed to meet, we never expected to find anything like what we have now, Dale and me. And, yes, I have to agree with him, it has become a problem. Nothing that needs immediate attention, no. It's not an urgent matter that needs resolution right now. In fact, the longer delayed the resolution, the better for both of us. I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

I find it intriguing that people actually read what I write here. And that some of these people positively react to what I write is, well, curious. I've seen blogs with lots of color and images and photos. Very attractive. And well written, too. There's a good local blog service that offers very affordable packages and I was thinking of moving this blog there. Then again, I don't really need that much space. For one thing, I don't have a digital cam. And even if I did, I'd have no time to prepare images for this blog.

Intriguing question: if I had the equipment and the time, what sort of pics or images would I put up? Surely, they would be in the nature of erotic or kinky pics or images. Would that, then, complete this blog's (perceived) tendency for the pornographic?

As it is, there is at least one person who "jerks off" to the musings of the Inner Slut. Does this make this blog pornographic? I'm caught in the image of guys jerking off to glossy porn mags. But glossy this blog ain't. Descriptive, yes, but hardly provocative. At least, not intentionally.

What, indeed, would be the object of posting photos or images of the erotic on this blog? I don't really see any value photos or images can contribute to this exercise. In fact, I find it very appealing that people act on the words they read on these pages without explicit photos or images. It's like learning to read: pictures in books belong to the nursery racks. There's nothing like letting the imagination roam free in the subconscious. When you allow words to take form in that universe, they become truly yours and the experience is more profound. That, and it takes a lot of work to format web pages with images. Not that I've tried the new PhotoBlogging apps offered -- for free! -- by Blogger. In any case, let's just leave it at that.

I don't exactly know how to deal with the past week I spent with Carl. I'm usually pretty good at reading people, getting behind their motives and real intentions, but just when I really need it to work, my instincts fail me. I keep looking for that small sign of a slip-up, that break in character. There was none, or maybe I just didn't want to see it. He's just too good to be true.

He's the typical Aussie: warm, friendly with everyone, always ready with a smile and a "g'day, mate!" or "thanks, mate!" He was game with everything and everyone. Yet, I couldn't help the feeling that something's not right. Maybe it was the money. He runs his own business, yes, but maybe the expense was something of a gamble, an investment. It doesn't particularly make me feel good that he was taking a risk on me.

So is this guy for real? He probably is. And he probably has his own agenda which he's not sharing with me. I think I pretty much know what that is. If he thinks I'd be offended by it, which he most probably does, he's very much mistaken.

I met him at the airport Saturday evening. The plane was late, of course. The passengers came out in trickles. In the waiting area, there was a tv monitor which showed the passengers filing out of the terminal but it was difficult watching the terminal exit and the video at the same time. So I sat there patiently for close to an hour, trying not to curse all the time. Finally, a tall guy with salt-and-pepper hair and beard, wearing a Canon t-shirt appeared, approached one of the airport employees, and motioned toward the waiting area. I froze; I didn't know what to do. But when it became clear that I couldn't back out anymore at that point, I waved. He waved back.

He was a bit shy at first, but I gave him a tight hug, mostly because I was nervous myself and he had such a great smile, although he looked older than the photos he sent me. We took a cab to one of the better motels in the area. He was obviously tired so we just had dinner in the room. We chatted a bit, and I just had to ask him how old he was. I was surprised when he confessed that he hadn't told me the truth. He's 55 this July. He thought that I wouldn't be interested if I knew the real score so he gave his age as 49. I probably wouldn't but after last week, I now have a healthy view of the mid-50s man.

My main concern was his impression of me now that we've met face to face. He said he was smitten. And that I was cute. Cute. Me. That's new.

We fucked that night. Despite the 9-hour flight from Sydney, economy class at that, this guy delivered. He played with my tits a lot, which he would do the entire week we were together, sucking hard on my nipples. He got me really excited. No one's played with my breasts like that for a long time. And he loved to kiss me on the mouth. Now, that's something I haven't had for a long time. That first night, I delighted in him, in his scent, his feel, his taste. He is such a clean person. No offensive odors. And although his body is now a bit flabby, you can still see the back and shoulder muscles, and the long lean legs, of a surfer. And he can be so hard.

He was gentle with me that night. I listened to his groans and moans and delighted in the pleasure he found in loving my body. And he found it again and again and again, till his own body shivered, shooting his cum deep into me. I didn't insist on his using protection. It didn't even come up. It was a given: we were going to have free, unrestrained, natural sex. And it felt right.

The next day, I took him to Old Manila. Monday morning, we got on the plane for Baguio. It rained the whole week we were there, as two typhoons crossed the country. We found a proper bar along Session Road, Rumours, where he had San Miguel Cerveza Negra, a dark lager. Or beer, plain and simple. We dropped in every afternoon at beer o'clock (usually around 5 o'clock) and stayed till 7, then we'd go try a new place for dinner.

Most days, we'd fuck upon waking up in the morning. On our second day in Baguio, I gave him quite a treat. I took his hard cock and used the head to play with my clit. It felt really good, and listening to his moans of pleasure made it even more exciting. I started writhing in ecstasy, all the time still rubbing my clit with his cock's head. My pussy started got wetter and wetter, my body, hotter and hotter. And then it came, torrents of cum. I was squirting all over the sheets. His exclamations of surprise were such a pleasure to hear as I watched him watch my pussy. I felt the juice flowing freely over my hands and thighs, flowing down my ass, wetting the sheets. I just kept cumming and cumming.

He fucked me really hard after that. Like I said, he is such a great fucker for a man his age. He's even a better fucker than most younger men. He knows how to sustain his erection, hold back the ejaculation, and just go for it. After fucking me doggie-style for the longest time ever, I would just roll over on my back exhausted, and watch him as he continued to fuck me till he came. My elbows are actually raw with all that forward-backward thrusting motion. And we fucked like that everyday.

We got along really well on several levels, not just the sexual. He made no promises, although he maintained the serious nature of the relationship. "I don't know where this relationship is going," he said over the phone yesterday, an hour after he landed safely in Sydney. "But it's promising." Promising? What the fuck does that mean?

I couldn't believe how hard it was to stand there at the airport, watching him go inside the terminal, to where I couldn't follow. My eyes felt sad and couldn't smile. There are too many boundaries, too many walls, too many places I can't get to.

Carl's agenda: a domestic partner he can live out his last remaining years on this earth with. Just a partner. He doesn't want to bring up a family again. He's been through that. It's his time now. Time for what he's passionate about: filmmaking. He's looking to sell his construction business, build a simple house in Queensland where the surf is great and not crowded, earn enough money for his and his partner's needs. Plan of action where I'm concerned: fiancee's visa. But that's all dependent on how the other things turn out. In effect, I'm not the most important thing in his life right now. I understand where he's coming from. If anything, I respect and appreciate his honesty.

Do I really want to do this? Why not? Nothing's stopping me. My life's not getting anywhere, career-wise. There's nothing left for me here. Might as well take up life in the bush. Oh, and Carl's biggest fantasy ever? Watching his partner being pleasured by several men all at once. Personally, I find that motivating enough for a change of lifestyle. The Inner Slut would be extremely pleased.

I've been contemplating posting a pic on my profile here on Blogger. It's not a face pic and it's really provocative, if that's the word. Terry took it and did a little magic on it with Photoshop. I, in turn, had a fun time with the filters in Photoshop.

I'm not with my celfone today. It didn't feel like coming with me to work so it stayed quietly underneath the pillows, not making a peep. Lucky thing.

My computer, on the other hand, is infected with some worm. Whenever I use any instant messenger, it hangs. I've Norton installed and used it and used it, to no avail. Then I downloaded Spybot and that found 44 tracking cookies of ad sites. I hate those little buggers. But the problem remained. So I downloaded AVG Free Edition and that found eight worms. That corrected, I hoped and hoped and yet...no go. *sigh* I've tried terminating all processes not vital to the comupter's performance but still, no go. Now, my computer just slows down whenever I use any messenger. Bummer.

Surprisingly, my computer (despite the slowing down), likes it a lot better if, before I do anything, I run:

1.  In Safe Mode:

    a.  Spybot

    c.  Specific removal tools (for Sasser and Trojan.QHosts)

    b.  NAV

2.  In Normal setting:

    a.  AVQ

    b.  Disk defragmenter

That is such a hassle to do everyday. Maybe I should just reformat the whole thing. But then I'd lose all those downloads from ____. Oh, but those James Brown classics are such a find! Not to mention that almost-DVD copy of Shania Twain's mtv of her "Gonna Getcha Good." I love that song! Guess I'll wait till I get a cd writer. And that's no cheap thing around these parts.

Can't wait till Saturday. Carl called again yesterday, asking me what I usually have for a drink. I said vodka's pretty easy to get around the city, but I suggested that he bring over a good red wine, sweet and fruity. He promised to get one good Australian brand. So I went and got some munchies to go with the wine: salted pili nuts, cashew nuts, baked peanuts, and raisins. I'll try the mall tomorrow for some nice cheese.

Carl is arriving this Saturday evening from Australia. We've been talking on the fone, both excited over the prospect of a long term relationship. Or at least, that's what the undertones are all about. We both agree that such a topic would be better discussed face to face.

He says he's been looking at my pics (downloaded from the site) which are very naughty indeed. Well, I've been looking at those he's sent me and I've been very naughty indeed! This is a well hung guy. I like the way he's built, 6'1", long, lean but not thin. I suppose the fact that he's 49 contributes to his being built just right. And he has a great sense of humor.

So back to the issues: Am I ready for a LTR? Should I anticipate the possibility in this case?

As for the first one, the answer will have to be yes. At this point in my life, I want to give marriage (or a domestic partnership, to avoid the institutional connotations of the term as it is widely accepted) and family life a try. I have a feeling that I would make a good partner and a great mom. And what does the Inner Slut have to say about all this?

All she's concerned with is the fact that Carl is open to a committed relationship without its being exclusive. What can I say? Too good to be true? We shall see what we shall see.

There are plenty of options out there for me. This is one of them. And before I reject this particular and very intriguing one, I'd like to see what the fuss is all about.

What about the second issue? It has always been my policy to talk to the guy on the fone before I agree to meet him. It has always worked for me, as I take pride in sensing honesty in a person's voice, in getting a glimpse of a person's character from his voice, the way he speaks, the words he uses, his intonations and all those other small details. I've liked Carl's voice right from the start. I feel warm all over when I hear his voice coming from so far away. I love it when he laughs out loud when I say, Hello, in answer to his call. He laughs, merrily and heartily at that Hello. My instincts tell me that this is the voice of a man who's happy to hear my voice, who feels good when I acknowledge him over the phone, when I laugh at his jokes, when I match his wit with my own. This is the voice of a man who feels good about me and him.

And yet, I am afraid to trust those instincts which have served me well all throughout my life. Why? Because I'm afraid to fall. Consider the case of Terry. Last Saturday, I had quite an uncomfortable evening with Marge, Terry's friend and lover for two years now. Uncomfortable because she's the type of person who's too proud to admit that she needs a special person in her life, be it a partner, a sister, a friend. But this is exactly why she and Terry have stayed lovers all this time. Terry likes to drop in once in a while, and when he does, he likes to be with a lover he can trust, confide in, match wits with -- without having to commit to. And that would be all.

I have no problems with that. To each his own. But I cannot deal with Marge's inability to accept the fact that she, just like anyone else, has this innate, deep-seated need to belong to someone and to call someone her own. And I cannot accept Terry's insensitivity to Marge's self-denial. I'm sure he's aware of the situation. I'm sure he is, and he knows how to use it to his benefit.

During our evening together at some cafe, I tried to tell Marge how Terry has this tiresome habit of trying to get inside my head, making me feel so defensive. Marge's theory was perhaps I was defensive. Of course, I am, I replied.

I don't reveal my true self to just anyone. I'm a very angry and lonely person, easily hurt beyond reason. I don't show this core to many people. Not even my parents have seen this side of me. i don't show it because my first instinct is to strike back. And I'm very good at this, getting back. But it doesn't make me feel good afterwards. I get disappointed with myself, and the more I hate myself for being so inadequate.

When Terry tries to delve inside my head, he's actually trying to force out the real me. I know. I sense it. He likes to have me out in the open, vulnerable, defenseless, under his control. Not that he intentionally plans it that way. I believe it's more according to his Scorpio nature. I should know, and I believe I'm more intentionally manipulative than he is. The strange thing is, I want to come out. I want to show that very angry, very lonely person to him. But I hesitate, because he keeps dropping me.

I tell him a hurt I nurse deep inside, and he says most people hurt that way, too. I tell him about a dream I treasure, and he says most people dream of that, too. I'm just a statistic, given with a slap in the face. In other words, he doesn't make me feel special.

Is it because he's not used to nurturing another person dear to him? So he doesn't know how to deal with someone who needs comforting? It's being selfish. But most probably it's being afraid. Marge and Terry, they're both afraid. More afraid than I am. They don't know how to share the self with another. I feel no passion in Terry's lovemaking, and the arrogance of Marge's self-deluded pride leaves me cold. They are both arrogant in their fear that should they open the self to another, that other will grow needy and dependent on them. Only with the very immature does this happen. And only those who have never learned to respect the other can fear this. In the equation of Troisfontaine, Terry is in an I-It relationship, he being the I, and the other, the It.

I can't imagine a life like that. Always holding back for fear of being hurt and rejected. It was that smile that gave the fear away, that small smile on Terry's face that for a fleeting moment appeared. It was a warm smile, a very sincere smile, that showed the soft, warm, caring side of him, and for a moment, he was beautiful. But it was all too suddenly hidden behind the gruff, cold exterior of a world-weary traveler, and he was ugly agan. Yes, he'd seen it all, folks, and me, I'm just a statistic.

Should I anticipate love and commitment with Carl? Most definitely. I should and will not be afraid. A man who makes me feel warm all over, erotic, lovely and desirable, the most special of women, is not one to be ignored. They are too rare. However, should I be mistaken, should my instincts fail me this time, then I shall cry my eyes out, feel depressed for a few days, watch numerous cds on end, reread all my favorite books, and move on.

C'est la vie.

Carl's coming over to spend a week with me. Too much, too soon? I'm having nervous tension just thinking about the possibilities. I'm so darn bored with my life, I just might take up Carl on his offer. Read on...

To: Emyn Galad
From: Carl ________

Hi Sweet Emyn

Thanks so much for your special letter. Your words meant a lot to me and I appreciate you returning to me the feelings I have been having for you. Over the last few months my feelings for you have gotten ever stronger and even tho we've yet to meet I have such confidence that we will become very close very quickly. I have tried to be honest with you from day one, about what I was looking for in a partner and although my first letter spoke mainly of having someone I could be close to and share sexually, another deeper desire is to have that special bond of love between us that would be for us only. I have a feeling that we may well find that with our relationship. I have felt that growing between us from day one. Please don't have fears about disappointing me. It won't happen. As I've said before, I'm a good judge of people and their motives and we will get on just fine - trust me on this.

I'm so sorry you're not feeling that great just now but I promise you it's gonna get better soon! Apologies if I called you at a bad time. I can be very impulsive tho and - well - I just wanted to hear your voice. I've been going thu some difficult stuff here too and to hear your voice justs makes all the difference. Yesterday I organised my travel insurance and bought a few bits and pieces and the day before I ordered some Pesos for pick up next week.

So it's all coming together so that we can be together soon.

Sorry - duty calls and I gotta dash off to Sydney all day. Take Care Emyn and write soon.

With Love - Carl xxx

How strange is this?

To: Emyn Galad
From: AnG
Subject: Watch out!!!

This refers to your liason with Mark ______ who is victimizing Filipina women the in the Phils. The man uses his Linden suites to screw women and fool them, being sweet and caring and boast of his sexual expertise. He has several Filipina women, there are those who are for the day and differents sets for the evening. I have seen this with my own two eyes, and yet he swore I am his only woman here, and cannot have another one beacuse he has too much work.

I have been a victim of that fucking liar, and I am alerting all those women that he has been using for his sexual satisfaction, we had gathered ample evidences which will be submitted later to the management of the bank where he is working in US. He will soon be bar coming here once his motives for going to the Phils is known to his company and colleagues.

I am not telling you to stop seeing him, but just play along with him and be careful, bec. he will be set up, and it would emabrassing if you are caught playing fire with him, we have contacted some of his colleauges and they are also bothered by this.

Don't be fooled by his fake sweetness, play his mind games, the way he is playing with us.

AnG

Apparently, AnG is the ex-girlfriend Mark was telling me about. I remember Mark telling me that he had a girlfriend in Manila and that they broke up because it was going stale. They were together for two years. He didn't go into details and I didn't ask because I didn't really care.

There are people who play the game and there are people who don't. People who play the game should stick to playing with those who play; they should never involve those who don't. At this point, I don't care if there's any truth to AnG's charges, but I tend to believe that where there's smoke, there's fire. A woman can't be too careful.