The Inner Slut

The most amazing thing happened last night with Bill, the X-G-Man.

His trannie friend begged off as s/he didn't feel comfortable performing with women. Marge couldn't make it due to a deadline. So it all ended with just Bill and me. We were both tired so the evening didn't start out very lively. I stood there at the door of his hotel room. looking at this portly fifty-ish-looking American, with dark rings under his eyes, and lines on his face, and I wondered what the hell I was doing there. His eyes were red around the baby blue, his face flushed with the humidity; his lips, pale; his mouth, tired. A far cry from the vivacity he showed when we first met.

In the end, however, I was reminded of why I like this guy: he's sincere and warm, and openly appreciative of the warmth and closeness I offer him. I mentioned this to him, telling him that he knows how to treat a woman special, and that he's not at all scared of open displays of affection, unlike most other men I've met. He said something that I shall never forget. He said it was because he genuinely likes me and feels very comfortable with me, so comfortable that he feels that he could tell me anything. And he appreciated the fact that I felt this way about him. Now, here's a man on a higher level of consciousness.

We had dinner at Outback, but before that, he had to have a "sneak preview." He lay down on the bed and I straddled him. He sucked on my nipples and squeezed my breasts for a while. Then we went out to dinner which was, as he described it, unremarkable. He was comparing it to Outback in other countries. In the Philippines, if you served the same quality and kind of food as in other, well developed economies, no one would be able to afford it. It's all economics. Bill had the lobster and crab claw plate while I had the grilled salmon, both with unremarkable steamed veggies. He had bottomless iced tea which was really just water and brown sugar, and I had a tall glass of dalandan (native lime) juice which was mostly soda water and white sugar. Blech.

So after dinner, we headed back to the hotel where we went back to that position with my tits hanging over his face. It got boring pretty soon, even with him finger-fucking my pussy. But he had to desist from that, as his arm soon got stiff. We laughed about it, then I sucked on his cock. He loved it but my jaws got tired. I love sucking cock, and I can do it for quite some time but my face gets tired after a while. So I started rimming his asshole, which he found really relaxing.

I poured baby oil on his ass and that got him more relaxed. His asshole started opening up and I got excited and poured more oil on him. His cock softened but he was loving it. He said it felt so very different, like he could cum even without a hard on. And I believed him. He certainly looked -- and sounded -- like he was having the time of his life. By this time, I had one finger deep in his hole. As he got more into it, the more relaxed he got, and the more excited I got. He had his legs spread wide as I wriggled my finger around in his ass, pushing it in deeper. He begged me to fuck him and take his cherry ass. And I kept telling him that he had to be patient as I needed to train his ass first. It was awesome.

I got him to submit, ass high in the air and forehead down on the bed. He was still stroking his cock which hadn't hardened. He was groaning and moaning in his pleasure. I stuck my thumb in his ass and pulled it in and out, while massaging his balls at the same time. He loved it but after a while, he said it felt better the other way around, him on his back and his legs spread. So we reverted to that position. I stared at him as he let go of all inhibitions and just allowed his pleasure to register on his face. Fantastic. I loved it. I couldn't get enough of it. He swore that he was my bitch, begged me to take his cherry ass and promise that I would do it soon. I assured him that I was going to fuck his ass real soon, after I had taught his hole to relax some more and trained it with butt plugs. He loved that.

He kept pulling on his cock, which was still soft and, pretty soon, he had cum. True enough, his cock was limp as he squirted cum all over his hand and tummy, and the bed. But after he shot his load, his cock hardened. Now, that was amazing.

Bill lay back on the bed, looking really exhausted and not believing what had just happened. He swore that it was a different sensation. Normally, he would feel the sensation at the tip of his cock, and when he'd cum, he'd still feel horny. This time, the sensation was coming from within, under his balls, and more intensely. It was like all his horniness had been shot out of him, used up. His body felt so very tired as if a heavy weight had been lifted from it. There was aching in his thighs that he couldn't understand. I do. That's a very familiar ache for women. I find it so intriguing that a man can feel that way after having his ass played with.

We lay there, Bill's head on my shoulder, my hand stroking his face, scratching his two-day-old shadow of a beard. I bent down and kissed his ear softly. I love his smell. Dunhill. Very manly. Very clean. He said he loved the way I touch him, and not just physically. He tried to describe it, saying it indicated warmth, and made him feel so comfortable with me. I suppose he meant that I touched a chord in his being. That is so brave. To admit something like that -- to oneself and to the other person.

And he said that we were naughty together.

Now, why couldn't Tom be as mature and brave as that.

This took place last week, the 16th, via IM.

Bill: Hello, sunshine!

Me: Hi, baby! How've you been?

Bill: I am fine and will be in Manila next week. Will you be around and horny?

Me: You bet. What's your sked like?

Bill: I will stay at _____ Hotel in Makati and arrive on 22nd.

Me: How long will you be staying? I thought you bought a condo unit last time you were here.

Bill: Only for that night but will arrive early in the day and leave late afternoon 23rd.

Me: Will you have time for fun?

Bill: Couldn’t get the good deal so passed.

Me: Too bad. Anyway, what's the plan then? Do we meet evening of the 22nd at your hotel?

Bill: Not a problem. do you have a number I can call when I am there?

Me: (my number) Mobile.

Bill: Great and you can call my roaming phone (his number).

Me: Ok.

Bill: Is your pussy still hot? Done any group action or exciting sex?

Me: Will be meeting with a couple this Saturday, old friends.

Bill: Would love a good cluster fuck. My balls are really full at the moment. Love to suck your lovely titties as well.

Me: Hold that thought...can't wait till you get here! Have you been good? Or if not good, safe?

Bill: Nothing much. did a gangbang but not real exciting. How about you?

Me: Always safe. Met a few old friends, nothing new.

Bill: Anything naughty or kinky? How about dominance?

Me: Nothing wild or kinky. Just plain vanilla.

Bill: Do you like anal? I would love to have a couple of girls piss on my cock while I jack off. Any ideas?

Me: I'm not that crazy about anal, or pissing for that matter. Not crazy about "water sports."

Bill: Do you know any bi couples?

Me: Just this couple I'm meeting this weekend, but he's not bi. She is.

Bill: I would like to try a foursome of bi action.

Me: By bi, you mean, the guy's bi too?

Bill: Any chance we can hook up as a couple with some others in Manila? I wouldn't mind a guy jacking me off, etc. while we watch you and a lovely get to it.

Me: I can check with another girl friend, but I dunno if she'll do me.

Bill: I was thinking maybe we could hook up with some available couples looking for action in Manila.

Me: A 4som is not easy to arrange in Manila.

Bill: What do you like and look for? Seen a lot on (this site). I would like to find a group to do all.

Me: There's only one woman I'd like to do it with and she's very cautious with people. I don't think her husband's gonna like male-male action. He likes to watch her wife do me.

Bill: Not a problem, I am up for most anything.

Me: I've met some from groups but I found them a bit sleazy, not trustworthy at all.

Bill: I would like to find a partner so we could travel around and do some regional fun fucking.

Me: Regional, huh!

Bill: Yeah, maybe in Singapore and HK. I would cover the costs.

Me: Hmmm....do they play it safe over there? Sleazy folks who'd fuck just everyone and anyone in sight?

Bill: I think we just have to meet them and talk to them before that. Would be fun though. Also, we can find some nice ladies for you if you like pussy.

Me: I still have to learn how to like pussy, but I like having women do me, only if there's a male audience!

Bill: Sounds good to me. What is your hottest fantasy?

Me: Oooohhh! Gangbang! Five big men, all at once....mmmm....with my partner watching...then after the five guys are done with me, my partner has his way with me.

Bill: I did that but boring as stood around as she could not handle all of us at one time.

Me: That makes sense...five men are a lot...maybe 3 men then…that would be more practicable...

Bill: A black guy did join us with a 12” cock. He shot his load all over her asshole and then we fucked her the ass as well.

Me: Wow...I guess if I’m to do a gangbang I’ll have to learn to take it in the ass as well.... It hurts...

Bill: What do you think of putting up a joint message on (this site) for couples?

Me: Us two?

Bill: You have such a lovely ass I hope I can break it in slowly... Yeah, the two of us as a couple.

Me: Sure! But you see the sked's gonna be difficult. I can't just up and leave with you just because we got invited. I'm gonna be starting a new job come July...

Bill: Are you into dominance?

Me: Oh, yeah! But nothing hard core...and no pain.

Bill: Yeah, will take planning but I think we can try if you are up to it. I will bring my camera. We can do Manila first if you wish.

Me: Ok, we can try.

Bill: Your new posting photo on (this site) is hot! So what is the last action you had?

Me: Yeah? Thanks!...This guy from California, old friend.

Bill: I would love to fuck a girl with milk in her tits. Know any?

Me: You know, I have a "slave" who likes to do that....Lemme get in touch with her…

Bill: I would be forever indebted.

Me: But she's a big girl, obese almost. But with huge breasts.

Bill: I would like to watch you with your slaves. Never done any of that...Big is okay.

Me: Great. Lemme get in touch with her.

Bill: Does she have much milk?

Me: I dunno. I don’t think she does it anymore tho...

Bill: With slaves what do you do and tell them?

Me: Well, what I want her to do...I’ve never really been with her in play...we could give it a try...even without her milk...

Bill: Would you let me watch and be present, I would jack off for you as I watch, etc....

Me: That'd be fun...

Bill: Sounds like fun. Can you set it up for my visit?

Me: I will try. She's sometimes busy.

Bill: Do you like to watch any male to male action?

Me: I've never seen any...but I’d like to try it.

Bill: I had a trannie send me a mail wants to suck my cock in Manila. Would you like to participate?

Me: What’s a trannie?

Bill: I wouldn't mind experimenting with him. Never done it before...Trannie is ladyboy.

Me: Oooh....ok.… sure!

Bill: I will try and contact him if you are up to it. Would you be willing to fuck him?

Me: Only if you can assure me he's disease free!

Bill: Condoms for him.

Me: Yeah but....couldn't you get diseases thru saliva...

Bill: We could be selective..

Me: I'd like to meet him first.

Bill: How about I fuck you while he fucks me?

Me: Oooohhh.....love that!

Bill: So are you ready to do all this?

Me: First time for everything...My friend is interested in joining us in this.

Bill: You contact your friends and the fat one and I will contact mine, and let’s plan on the 22nd meeting.

Me: She's a really horny gal, loves anal.

Bill: Which friend? Tell me about her. Did you just talk to her?

Me: Ok, the big girl is different from this one I’m telling you about.

Bill: Do you mind if I give her a good ass fucking?

Me: Of course, I don’t. She'd love it!

Bill: Tell me about her. Is she with you now?

Me: She's my age, shorter than me, very smart...I'm chatting with her.

Bill: What is she like?

Me: She's very level headed, no pretensions and no silly expectations. She tells it as it is.

Bill: So have you done it with her?

Me: No, not yet

Bill: What time on 22nd?

Me: How about 7pm?

Bill: Sounds good. Let's talk again. I will be at (this hotel) and let's meet there.

Me: Ok...please let me know too if it's possible to stay over...just me...

Bill: So see if you can get your friends, and you need to stay over so I can fuck you good.

Me: You just answered my question!

Bill: So you have any photos of them or their handles? Should I get the ladyboy?

Me: She’s Marge. She's the one who loves anal...Yeah, ask the trannie to join us.

Bill: Will your friend mind if he joins?

Me: No, she's looking forward to a new experience!

Bill: He can fuck me while you two participate and play or watch.

Me: Oh, we'll play alright! Could you get some KY warming liquid over there? It's a lubricant but no so thick.

Bill: Okay, I will plan on it. Get back to me and keep me informed. All the above and more would be fantastic. You can give her my email or handle to check me out if she wants. Let's make this a night to remember and do all the fantasies possible. I will check on the KY.

Me: Great!

Bill: See ya soon I need to jack off now so think of my hot juice dripping down your ass…

Me: Keep it clean, I wanna play with it too!

Bill: See ya!

Me: See ya!

Make your own happiness.

Yes. I have that. Some people would call it counting your blessings. But as I'm agnostic, I don't recognize blessings. I'm happy with family, friends, lovers. Happy with the people who matter. Happy with who and what I am. In fact, I'm so defined as a person that I'm unhappy.

I was just complaining to my Dale about how I wanted to push myself, to just take flight and soar. If only I could just find my niche. I want to do something and excel in it. The Inner Slut's lucky; she gets to do what she's good at. And getting better at it, too.

I've always believed that one should try and be all that one could be. I want to be a wife, and a mother, a lawyer, a writer, a teacher, though not necessarily in that order. I just want to be all that I can be. So many people are so many things in such an enriched life. Me, I'm just drifting along. I have to get control over my life, only I can't seem to find the opportunity. Maybe the opportunities pass me by because I don't know how to recognize them for what they are.

Don't rely on someone.

This is the hard part. I've always craved for appreciation, for recognition. I'm sure I'm not alone in this. But I've taught myself how to distinguish people whose opinions matter from those whose opinions are worth shit. Difficult lesson to learn, but I learned it. Apparently, not too well as yet. I'm working on it.

My entire happiness is not dependent on any one person, and it never will. But there is another thing that I cannot deny, cannot unlearn. And believe me, I tried for years to rid myself of it. I need to love, and be loved. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, said the Immortal Bard. My mantra, whispered to my broken heart now and again. Of course, during Shakespeare's time, mankind had never heard of genetics; otherwise, the Bard, realizing that man's need to and for love is due to deeply ingrained genetic memory, could just as easily have said that you can run, but you can't hide.

I've had enough of running. I choose to be brave and allow my life to be touched by the people I encounter. I choose to experience people, not just meet them. When you open yourself to people, you allow them to bring you joy and light, along with the pain, frustration and disappointment, and the dark.

No, I'm done denying things to my face. I need recognition and appreciation from people who matter to me, and I need to love. At this point, I can have these in a make-believe world, under clear and strictly controlled, well-regulated conditions, even for just a limited time.

All I want is a little piece of your soul. Is that too much to ask? Seriously, I just want to play pretend. Humor me. It'd mean so much.

This is my game:

When I'm out with a guy, I want to feel like I'm the only one. Never mind if it's just play-pretend. In fact, that's what the game is all about. For me. I don't play it because I want to go out to dinner at a fancy place, or go bar-hopping, or spend the night at some posh hotel, or -- horrors! -- because I want to please the guy I'm with. I play it because I like to feel good about myself. I don't care if it's only a game. I don't care about reality (i.e., that I've no real long-term relationship going for me). It's willing suspension of disbelief (i.e., I choose to ignore the fact that this guy's leaving in a few hours or days and I might not even see him again). In the end, it's got nothing to do with the guy.

It's all about me.

Marge said, keep it light. Referring to Tom, of course. I found the statement out of place then. Now I know why. The premise on which it was based is erroneous. It wasn't deep in sentiment, this "arrangement" with Tom. It was based on an expectation, that he, too, was playing my game.

The guys in this game are faceless, with the exception of my Dale and Carl, who are no longer in the game, but situated in my reality. Which is actually scary, come to think of it. Referring to my Dale and Carl, of course. But that's an entirely different story. There is nothing to fear from faceless people. The loss of one is easily overcome, easily replaced by another faceless person. That's my safety net.

I found Tom attractive because he just is. His enthusiasm for life is infectious. But he's not playing the game for the same reasons I am. Thus, the conflict, creating in my mind the impression of rejection. The Inner Slut was right, after all. I should keep away from him.

My spirit is tired. And hungry. It wants to be filled with warmth and nurturing. It wants to be affirmed and recognized. It wants to live. It wants to love. For now, it feasts on Ennio Morricone's theme from Cinema Paradiso (piano solo).

The Inner Slut's angry with me about Tom. She wants me to forget the guy, turn my back on him and just ignore him. I don't think I'm going to hear from that guy again. But then again, he did reply to my letter which he called wondeful and deserves a lengthier reply than his short response. He was probably in Korea when he sent that.

I was with my Dale last night. He got really excited earlier in the afternoon when I told him that I had a game planned for that evening. It wasn't anything, really, just playing dress-up. I put on my fuschia push-up bra, with the white embroidered flowers on the cups, black fishnet stockings, a black-maroon thong, and my red high heel mules. All under my very corporate beige and brown long skirt and tailored blouse. Oh, but my baby's dick really went as hard as I've never had it go hard before.

When my Dale gets really turned on, he gets really aggressive. He had me on my back with all my clothes on, buttons off and skirt raised. It was so good to feel his dick ramming deep inside me. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. He'd put on weight and I noticed that when he'd lost weight, he managed to maintain his erection for some time. Too bad. He is such a fucking animal when he's turned on. A ferocious hamster, he calls himself.

I'm meeting Art and Anna this Saturday evening for a little fun. Anna's coming in from out of town and Art and I'll meet her at the airport. So I'll be meeting Art beforehand. Hmmm....wonder if he'll be brave enough for some appetizer before the main course....And John. We've tentatively set lunch and some fun afterwards on Saturday as well. But this is a busy guy as well.

Setting aside the Inner Slut for a second (with much screaming and gnashing of teeth), I sometimes wonder why I play the game. After all, the official reason is because I like the fact that I please men. Not because I like to please men. The fact is, I please men. There's a world of difference. And did I say, the "official" reason? Please. There's only one reason.

I like to please men. = I show up, change into whatever kind of person the guy wants me to be, and proceed to derive pleasure from his pleasure. This is how I used to be.

I please men. = I show up, he likes what he sees, and pleasure is simultaneously achieved in that one's pleasure is not dependent on the other's. This is me now.

Well! I never realized how much I've grown. And even the Inner Slut's impressed. of course, she's much more concerned about trying to pleasure herself with my Dale watching, stroking his dick. What would he do once she starts to squirt cum all over? Would he feel useless, obsolete, discarded? I don't think so. I'd think he'd be excited.

And then there's Bill, the X-G-man. Caught him online via messenger. He's coming over next week. So I proposed joining him and bringing Marge along. He's meeting a "trannie," or a transvestite and will be informing me if the trannie's interersted in making it a 4sum. He's also invited me to be his partner for some "regional" fucking. What a concept. He wants to try out groups in Asia, like HK and Singapore, but he needs a partner to get into these groups. Well, why not? I mean, as long as it's dafe sex all around, there's no danger. But I'll have to discuss issues of safety and precaution with the guy first, including danger to life and limb.

What's that they say about all work and no play? Well, all play doesn't cut it, either. I want my Dale. We didn't really play all that long. Perhaps, an hour. We spent the rest of the time, 2 hours more, just cuddling and talking. I so wanted to talk to him about how much Tom hurt me but Dale's not just a friend, like Marge. My Dale is very special to me and he's intimated to me that I'm just as special. I get the impression that he knows, and expects, that I see other men aside from him, but that he'd rather not have it spoken of. It's a play-pretend game -- for both of us. I don't know if he's seeing other women. As far as I can tell, he's not.

I've been badgering him to hire me as his personal assistant at the plant. He keeps saying, no, very sweetly. Last night, I was pestering him again and, again, he said no, he doesn't mix business with pleasure. I said that we could just focus on business. He laughed and said he didn't want to get his hands off me. That was the sweetest letdown I've ever had, and will ever have, in my entire adult life. He bought the latest Dido cd and was playing it in the car when he picked me up. He said there was this one song which always reminds him of me, Do You Have a Little Time?

I got to listen to it and, yes, I have to agree, it's my song to my Dale: I'm just here waiting at the side of your life. He laughed and said that wasn't true, giving the back of my hand a passionate kiss. When it was time to go, I went from contented to suddenly apprehensive. I wanted to cry and the tears just verged on overflowing. I held back but my voice broke when I said good night.

I think I'm depressed -- again. Things are really looking bleak.

When people end up hurting you, ignore them. People hurt you only when you let them. And when you let people hurt you, be sure it means that you've let them inside your world because you love them.

You never know people. There's only one way to get to know them, and disappointment and frustration are part of the package. Communication is a big part of this process. You stop at communicating, you end the process. But there is, of course, a point when communication bogs down or doesn't work because you can't get through to the other person anymore. That's when you know it's ended.

When you communicate and persist in communicating, you're braving the process, because there are only two possibilities: either you're accepted, in which case, you've gotten through, or you're rejected, and that's the end of it. So when you make up your mind to persist, you have to be sure that the person is worth the pain and the sorrow the whole thing produces.

Such a simple thing, communicating, but very value-laden. Lots of undertones to the act. Unfortunately, very few people seem to understand what it means to keep the channels open. It is this insensitivity that gets to me. People are so full of themselves, they can't feel the other person anymore.

Very sad.

Dear Tom,

You said something that I want to clear up: I'm blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Apparently, you don't appreciate what I've given you so far. Let me explain.

I'm the sort of person who doesn't have a lot of friends because I choose who I love and take to heart. I'm sure at one point in your life, you kept a box or envelop where you kept things -- letters, fotos, cards, pretty shells from the beach -- that reminded you of something special that happened in your life. I have a box like that to keep mementos in. Only the most precious and the most beautiful go in that box.

I treat people I meet in this lifetime the same way. Only to the most precious and to the most beautiful do I open my heart. And when I let them in, I like to keep them in there, to look at in times of loneliness and desperation. You're in there, Tom, because I find you beautiful and precious to me.

I find you beautiful -- your intelligence, your wit, your joy in living and enthusiasm for meeting head-on the challenges that come your way, and your devotion to your children. I find beautiful the warmth in your eyes, your Richard Nixon nose, your kooky smile, your caressing voice, your active, sexy body. When I arrange to meet with you, I clear my schedule so that I can focus my time and attention on you. I want to give you that quality of attention that your wife never seemed to have given you, as she never seemed to have appreciated the kind of man that you are. Not that I pity you or feel sorry for you, but simply because I find you beautiful.

I understand that you are new at this swinging game. But like I said, you're not new to dealing with people and determining what these people are "bringing to the table." In my case, can't you see what I'm bringing into your life? Can't you distinguish reality from play? So you're new at this swinging game. You're like a 9-year-old boy let loose in a candy shop. Sure. I'd understand that if you were 9. But you're not. You're a grown man who I admire and respect, someone I look up to for answers and for strength, someone I can actually learn from. You're one of the very few.

There was a time that I'd have just turned my back on you and threw you out of my life. Your loss, not mine. But I don't want to do that anymore. That's the way of the weak -- not wanting to live and love, and nobody wins.

If we're to see each other in the future, I can only reiterate my expectations: the respect and common courtesies that we all expect and demand from everyone else. Apparently, you're not ready for the friendship that I offer, so we'll just leave it at that. We all have our own version of the truth, even me, and we'll leave it at that as well. You have your own reasons for playing the game, and I have mine.

So now that the parameters are clear and set, let the games begin.

Emyn

From Mario, early morning, today:

(3:04:22 AM): hi, my wife found my cellphone with your number. don't reply to any messages from me. bye...

This is too strange. So I guess we won't be meeting this afternoon then. Oh well. I'm meeting Tom tonight. He's going home on Monday morning and Marge and I were thinking we could have a threesome on Sunday evening. I was inviting John to join us but he isn't available on Sunday. I'm wearing something that's designed to give Marge some healthy competition, in the field of skirts and legs and underwear. We'll see.

As for Mario, he's been de-listed. Too dangerous. Apparently, his wife suspects that he's playing around. Too stupid. Time to say goodbye.

Again, from Marge, today:

(12:25:46 PM): Hi!!! we had fun again last night...sex, dinner at Hue (again) in Greenbelt. Then watched live jazz concert at Grenbelt. Then coffee where we had fun people watching. He couldnt believe that those hot babes he were eyeing were "gays"! He also flirted with several women at the concert.. and at cafe havana... Fun altogether...It's your turn Saturday evening...And he is also free most of Sunday... He said he can keep himself busy tonite..

From Marge, yesterday:

(7:56:26 AM): good am. tom and i had fun last night- he is wacky! he has all these little jokes. We got to try the black dildo and the butt plugs. i owe you one!

Something Carl said last Sunday when he called up that keeps repeating itself in my head. He said that he's never known anyone who can transform so much and so easily -- from good girl to whore -- so fast. He is, of course, talking about sex. His theory is that I have a split personality. He doesn't know how close he is to the truth.

Seems like the Inner Slut's getting stronger.

I cannot believe how hot the sex was with Tom last Friday night. We stayed at his hotel room where there, at the foot of the bed, was a cushioned bench. It was actually great for fucking, with me lying on it, my arms above my head, and knees up, legs in the air. I thought I'd ask Tom to tie my hands to one end but we were just so into it. Perhaps next time.

He came all over my tummy and breasts. While he was splattering his cum all over me, I felt the strangest sensation. My clit was tingling. And then I felt this hot surge of juice coming out of my insides, crawling out of my pussy with increasing speed and just squirt out. That was the first time I'd cum, legs apart, without touching myself. Tom was so dumbfounded. I was thrilled. Again, it felt like peeing, it was that strong, but it was all cum. And it felt great.

I love the way he thrust his cock deep into me. One thing about competition bikers is that they have such strong legs. He was on his feet, straddling me, thrusting hard and deep. I could feel his cockhead hitting my pubic bone. At least, I think that's the pubic bone. It felt really strange. And exciting. Seeing this man over me, lost in the throes of his own pleasure, and my own body's response to his. There is nothing like sex between two people whose minds and bodies are so connected.

There is this one thing about me that intelligent men seem to find very attractive: that they can talk to me and feel so very comfortable with me. John, Mario and Tom, they have all expressed this at one time or another. Tom's even remarked several times how the sound of my voice on the phone always makes him melt. He says I'd make a great 900 operator.

So I'm easy to talk to. Men can talk to me about anything under the sun. I make them laugh. They find me really sexy. Sounds like the making of a great geisha. Too bad I'm not Japanese. I'd make a great living as one.

I still have to talk to my present boss about my quitting. I don't want to do it. Not that I want to be with her any longer. I find it funny, how she sits there and is a brilliant scholar -- but a rotten manager. She's got really crappy management skills. And just because she's a lawyer and a scholar, she thinks she's doing a great job. Funny, really, when you consider that I've been doing the real dirty work. I don't even know why I'm hesitating with this court job where I'd certainly be appreciated for my skills (legal or otherwise). Maybe I'm growing too old, starting to feel complacent or lazy, becoming too afraid of change.

I'll just have to get this over with. Tomorrow. (Chicken...)

I got myself a new job writing decisions for an appellate court judge. I expect to start in two weeks. I handed in my application for that same job in 2002, but it was only recently that an opening was made available. He asked specifically for me. For two reasons: I do good legal writing, and he has the hots for me. Which should not be a problem, really, were it not for the fact that his second wife's a friend of mine.

However, I am, at the moment, quite proud of myself. Yesterday morning, I was at my future office and was able to finish one decision in two hours. That included going over the record of the case (which wasn't that difficult, considering there were only three important documents to study) and doing the research to support the decision. But eventhough it was a simple decision, all issues were addressed and all rulings were well supported in law and jurisprudence. A piece of writing well worth the Supreme Court, if I say so myself. I only hope the judge likes my writing style because he's in real trouble otherwise. I'm not changing it for him.

And why was I at my future office if I haven't been officially hired yet? The need is urgent. They should've notified me earlier but I know the judge's wife, who's also his Chief of Staff. She's not the most organized person in the world.

It is officially the rainy season in the Philippines, as I haven't seen the sun for the entire week since 1 June. And despite Carl's protestations that this is summer in this area of the globe, the monsoon rains have moved in and are now looking for nooks and crannies in the Metro to play in. I've taken my coats and jackets to the cleaners, and have pushed summer clothing to the other end of the closet, to be unearthed again next year. Hopefully, they'd still fit.

Carl has sent me via email some of the pics taken during our week in Baguio. They make me smile everytime I look at them, which is everyday. I'm putting one up on my desktop, the one where Carl's seated between two life-sized stone statues of men posed like they were discussing something of substance. Carl appears to be making a point to one of them who, in turn, appears to be pondering the issue. Very funny. I know I shouldn't be looking at the pics every now and again, as they make me miss Carl all the more. But then, the heart has never been a logical creature....

My Dale

My sweetie is sick. Three days after he gets in from his very exhausting trip to New York, he wakes up 2 in the morning with a raging fever. I'm worried. It could all very well be the flu, as there is an outbreak of that in the Metro, but it could also be something else, something worse. I keep telling him and telling him, he needs to rest. But would he listen? No, of course not. He called this morning just as I was stepping out of the shower, saying he was on his way to the doctor.

He's been working too damn hard. How do I know that? Well, when your company's the only one in this economy garnering 40% more business when everyone else is either breaking even or shutting down, you're working too damn hard. And at his age, he could end up with a heart attack, or a stroke, or -- something equally awful or worse...Depressing.

Tom

I picked him up at the airport Wednesday midnight and dropped him off at his hotel. I'm hoping to see him tonight. He's having a lot of problems collecting payments from customers but the guy's as cheerful as ever. He gave me a call a couple of times since then, the last one just this morning. He says he misses me so much but there's just too much to be done first. He's looking forward to using that anal training kit he bought, along with the double-ended dildo, on me. I was amazed at how he got through customs with that lot. He says I'm just as brain-food to him as I am sex-food. What a kooky guy. Sweet, kooky guy.

Marge, on the other hand, is a bit anxious as to why Tom hasn't gotten in touch with her since he arrived in the country. A bit of insecurity there. Chinks in the armor. I reassured her it was because of business.

John

He is such a sweet thing. We took out a motel room with a jacuzzi. It took him a while to get things started, but when he finally got down to it, he was just so hot. He doesn't have that big a dick but it can get real hard. Even his balls were wound up so tight and hard.

He started stroking my thighs and breasts while we talked in the tub. Then he moved on to my clit and pussy. I leaned back and relaxed, enjoying the play. And as I got deeper into it, the more excited he got listening to my moans and cries. He made soft exclamations in my ear about how hot and tight I was inside, which later on changed into moans and exclamations of pleasure as my hands took over my clit. I stroked while his hand finger-fucked my pussy. That was a first. It felt so good I must've cum at least three times in that hot tub.

John is the kind of guy who looks for something more in an encounter. Nothing like a relationship or commitment, but something more than just a physical bond. That would be it, a bond, emotional, perhaps, or psychological. In short, he's looking for a friend as well. He enjoys giving pleasure to women.

The fucking part didn't last too long, as he was so excited, he came too soon. In fact, as I was stroking his hard dick and tight balls in the tub, he had to pull away so as not to cum. That's how my hands landed on my clit, for lack of something to play with.

He loves to kiss my mouth and suck on my tongue, and nibble on my nipples. He just loves to kiss. I like that in a guy. As long as he doesn't have terrible breath. He smells so clean and fresh. I hope I get to see him again.

Peter H.

This is a 57-year-old Norwegian who comes to the Philippines regularly. He's an expert on international affairs and deals with local trade unions and NGOs involved in formal and informal education at the grass-roots level. Let's just leave it at that.

He's 6'1", gray-haired, has a deep voice, very stern demeanor and manner. Come to think of it, he looks like a stern David Letterman. But Peter does have a warm smile. And he proved to be very tender in bed. And well-endowed. He had a hard time fitting that condom over his dick as it was just so big -- long and thick. Needless to say, I was excited at his efforts to get the condom on quickly without tearing it apart. Talk about anticipation.

Peter's not all that skilled. He remarked often enough on my lovely breasts and smooth skin. He also liked to kiss. But what turned him on was lightly trailing fingertips over, around and under his balls. It was very easy to please him. But nothing explosive. I laughed so hard after he'd made himself cum (fucking doesn't do that for him) and exclaimed loudly, "Now, I love Manila!"

He'll be back in August. I just hope I'll have time for him. he's sweet, intelligent and tender. Not cold and insensitive like the Euros I've encountered so far.

Mario

He's 52 on 15 June. Gemini, like my mom. No wonder I felt comfortable with him right from the off. Italian, with four young daughters from three women: Italian wife (divorced), Filipina wife (annulled), Filipina domestic partner (current). He stayed in the country because of his second daughter, with a Filipina bar girl, his second wife. It was for the kids whose pics he carries around in his mobile fone. It has always been for his daughters and will always be for them. He calls himself a stupid Italian passionata. I think he's just an all-around nice guy.

He's not tall, at 5'5". He's round, like my Dale, and balding, like my Dale. But he's very dark. He's the dark Italian. Very warm, beautiful brown eyes. Very thick, capable-looking hands. He looks like he loves to work with his hands and he'd be good at it, too. Aren't chefs like that?

He has a warm, open-hearted laugh which I heard the first time when I protested that I wasn't wild in bed. He has a very take-charge attitude too, like my Dale. But my Dale's aura is stronger. So I have a Light and a Dark version. Let's see if he's any good in bed. He swore he'd do the Italian men proud with me, when I told him he was the first Italian guy I've met. Raise the Italian flag, blah. Humorous guy. Here's hoping he's not just a bag full of hot air. We're meeting tomorrow afternoon, not just for coffee, if our schedules permit.

Let's see:

    1.  Met with John, Brit, 44, married to a Filipina, last Wednesday, the 26th;

    2.  Met with Mario, Italian, 50, married to a Filipina, last Monday, the 31st;

    3.  Meeting John again tomorrow, 6.30pm, for some fun;

    4.  Picking up Tom from the airport tomorrow midnight;

    5.  Meeting Dale sometime later this week.

Man, I am one busy girl!

What's a cool development is that I've kinda set up this informal partnership -- conspiracy? -- with Marge. She tries out some new playmates; I try some of mine; and we swap notes, choosing which ones we can play with again, those we can share, and those we dump. Nice!

My Dale's back from New York, brimming with pride with his successful business ventures. And stories about having taken a pedicab (good gad, a pedicab in the middle of New York City!) and the crappy thing being hit by a bus! Good thing he and his friend weren't hurt at all. But the pedicab was bent out of all proportion.

He had stories about how large the portions were in the places they went to eat. He had ordered at one time a veal chop and the thing came in weighing about three pounds or so. He was aghast! And the sandwich he ordered at a Jewish deli was almost five inches high for all the meat it had in between the slices of bread. No wonder a lot of Americans are obese.

He came home with such a horrific sense of excess, he vowed he'd start eating healthy. Good for him! I've a surprise for him myself: a new bra, fuschia all over, with floral embroidery of white on the cups. It is so gorgeous! I can't wait to see his face -- all over my breasts! What's that got to do with eating healthy? Nothing. Hah!

No, it's just that it was such a surprise to hear him full of passion for the excess he'd seen in New York. He must've been really scared with all that unhealthy eating, he decided to take better care of himself. I don't know what his wife's doing. What, she's too busy to take care of her husband?

Before I get too bitchy where I've no business to be, Carl's called several times, sent emails saying he's working really hard to get us together again real soon, and even learned how to send a text message through his mobile phone. I teased him, saying I'd be storing that lone message in my phone's memory in case there'd be no others to follow.

Just now, I received a fone call from an old friend from my Bar review days, Bles. She married a widower, some 15 or so years older than she. Her husband's a justice of the Court of Appeals, and his office is presently looking for a legal researcher/writer. She called to invite me to apply for the job. I'd applied before with her husband for a lower-ranking position but didn't get any further feedback. Anyway, she says that her husband has a good impression of my skills and myself. So I'm hauling my fat ass over to the court tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed.