outside looking in

6 month highlight special

The bad.

I had the worst night with a girl last March. Nobody would like if it there partner acts like a total mannequin in bed. Plus I wasn’t attracted to her really. I, in all honesty, just wanted to score. Lesson learned. She didn’t give head. Handjobs were terrible. Kissing was terrible. I enjoyed touching a new body. But that’s about it. In the middle of sex, I just wanted to go home. I was counting the hours until it finished.

I totally one-nighted her. We don’t even talk now. It was that bad.
——
The great.

I made out with a new girl a month back. She was an athlete. I was hanging out with friends drinking in a university watering hole. She dropped by with a friend of mine. I liked her eyes. It was looking like two shining stars.

I don’t know what i did exactly. It might have been the drinks. After a few rounds, everyone was cozy. She was young. She had just turned eighteen. Mentally, one can compute that a mental age of a seventeen year old. I don’t know what i did. I was just intently listening to her ramble. She was a bit tipsy. We ended up holding hands. I helped her to the bathroom where she needed to puke. She cleaned up. We walked to a corner. She was hugging me. She kissed great. I so want to kiss her again. She was softly sucking my tongue. I enjoyed it so. I was able to taste her lips, her tiny tits, caress her small triangle. After awhile though, she was out of it. She was too drunk to continue. Aside from a few kisses to and fro from a friend’s place to another friend’s to spend the night, that was all the action we had.

The next day, we didn’t even exchange numbers. She was too surprised where she ended up without her friend around. Darn, that must feel crazy —- waking up in a stranger’s house.

She said she had fun last night. But that’s about it. We didn’t even go out or communicate after. But I am sure, we will wind up with a second round sometime.

merry christmas, temptation.

It was unexpected.

It was rather unplanned. I knew about the party. I didn’t know whether I would be in the mood to go after my afternoon romp with a girl. I, after much ruminaration ended up there, fashionably late, and unfashionably dressed as a man in shorts in a wedding party but not without a dose of who- the-fuck-cares! armed in my smile.

I spotted her within a few minutes. I was happy to see her. She was talking to ex-two night stand girl. They were discussing their loves and loves lost. If ex-girl only knew that she was sharing her secrets to one of my biggest secrets.

She was staring at me. she smiled and then said, ” If only I was single…If only I was single.”

We sporadically exchanged words in betwen smiles and the glasses of pinoit noir.

“It’s so tempting.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you as well. It’s been so long since we got together.”

“I know. Damn it. I’m drunk.”

‘You are so tempting. ”

She was back together with her her long-distance love. I was rather drunk as well. I was going to end somewhere close to her place. I thought we would be able to repeat what we had nearly a year ago. i was really counting. But her dad was picking her up to stay with the family during these holidays.

We parted ways.

But it was some christmas gift. Seeing her, seeing ex-girl and knowing that I had something as special as her wanting to be with me….beside the girl who last rejected me was really a topping on my cake.

Merry Christmas to me!

There’s a big smile on my face.

boobs that think

I was thinking about this last night before the cock-blocking incident

A girl with big breasts passed by while I was on the train.. She reminded me of my ex who had C-cups. The funny thing is—- I never liked them that much. I was young then she told me other men have sucked and licked them. I was annoyed and jealous at that thought so during the most part of the relationship I focused my attention on her pussy. The one domain I felt was still precious and pure—free from other men’s touch.

I was fascinated by it. I felt like it was more interesting than the two melons that were on her chest. Her boobs said ” Hey notice me, i’m big” while her pussy was quiet subtly beckoning “conquer me…” I tried to make conversations with her pussy, playing around, getting to know it’s every whims. I was so focused that i sometimes ignored her breasts. I felt that her pussy was where her true self came from. Her boobs were too much a part of public domain in the sense that they dictated what people felt and thought about her rather than what she knew about herself and who she really was.

Needless to say, my ex and her boobs felt shunned and alienated. I was to an extent ashamed of them. They would be always the first thing other people noticed. Other men ogled at them as though they were masturbating with their eyes. I wasn’t laid back as I am now. I got into a lot of little fights because of them.

Her boobs was deeply ingrained and intertwined with her personality and identity. I wanted to meet the real her through her pussy. She wanted to be appreciated for her boobs and I wasn’t as appreciative as she wanted me to be. She felt that I only wanted to date her pussy so she dumped me for some other dick that was as shallow as her pussy and boobs.

One girl I was with thereafter had B-cups.They were small and proud but they were boobs that thought. They said things like ” I am a pleasure mountain, climb me and find peace.” Needless to say we had great sex. They weren’t crying for attention or appreciation, they were self-assured and confident in their small pinkish peaks. They were keys to reaching a level of spiritual orgasm. I loved to play with them without feeling guilty. They were asking for attention without begging for it. They weren’t needy and sensitive. Her pussy was given equal attention. I came because of her b-cups because I wanted to not because I needed to.

From then on I observed that different boobs say different things. They elicit different reactions from me. I still like big boobs. I prefer boobs that think (aside from pussies that are inviting, of course!). I have yet to meet someone with big boobs who are self-assured that they aren’t just boobs in the sense of being but rather boobs that say something interesting and of value. Boobs that don’t just play to sexuality and power it brings (because it is easy to get what they want with them). Boobs that say something less predictable than saying the usual “I’m big, notice me!” and ” My boobs are big, I am hot”

But I digress, if ever I had sex again with my ex, I will appreciate her c-cups as they are —appreciate her for them and her personality and identity. I know I may have lacked in that territory at that time. And I learned that no matter what women’s boobs say about themselves—- big or small, thinking or non-thinking—- they all deserve and want a lot of attention.

I digress further. I find that, yes, boobs that think are hard to find but boobs that are just boobs might be less boring but not less valuable. I may want boobs that think more but i know that they all say the same thing “…lick, suck and have me. Please!.”

fucking cockblockers

I’m in a bad mood right now.

Nothing sucks more than expecting sex or even the thought of sleeping beside someone, genuinely wanting intimacy for intimacy sake, and not getting it.

I’m never going back to that place again. To the place where I stuck out my self out of the security of my ego in purpose and it slammed straight into the concrete floor.

I know I probably will again. i just hate her right now for that —- inviting me for a drink—- getting me drunk and riled up—-then leaving me in the sala all drunk and horny.

moving on….

vespers

I have found a muse. She’s been on my mind for a time now. She appears once in a while in the periphery of my mind. Last week, I saw her art work. I fell in love. Maybe even for a brief moment. I am so tired with the usual pretty face. The shallow smiles and the dumb eyes.

I like her the way i have had crushes back in high school. The illusion of the woman. I’m falling in love with her shadow. Her brush strokes, the colors, and subjects are birth from beauty. And I know it goes beyond her face— and boy! is she a looker.

She’s my “Mrs. Vespers.”

I’m beginning to daydream about her. And I like that. Feelings finally creeping in my sex-fatigued heart—- or so I think. I can’t help but be a skeptic to my own recovery and my beliefs. This level of unbelief is a buffer— a comfort. i think that’s one thing I learned from the last time. But i’m just happy to somehow feel the way I felt way back then.. Finally a woman worthy to be an obsession.

slowly

I spin. I watch you from the corner of my eyes. I reel you in by not giving you attention when you want it. I crash into your world when you least expect it. Foreplay is the way I place my words. Falling delicately into your ears as I roll the sound on the tip of my tongue. I feel you expect it. I pause and wait for the moment before you sigh to enter. I know you want it. But you’re never gonna have it until you are nearly begging for it, , until i let you have it. Sometimes this is a better prelude to sex than the blatant way you undress. You who i love to mind-fuck. The chase is on. So you’d better keep chasing me.I’m way beyond your peripheral vision.