Funny how easy it is to succumb to temptation when one is restless and have nothing else to do. When the need for intimacy arises, not even the disability of not having an online profile would stop a person from desiring what he really seeks.
I was about to log off from my station after publishing a blog entry last night when the thought of checking my favorite chatroom in MIRc came to mind. Nothing has changed in #Salsalan. The old folks might have left, but in their place came a younger generation who were more aggressive and direct in their hook-up practices. It wasn't my intention to join the feast knowing that I deleted my profile in G4M and having no face-pic or body-pic during private conversations will be my greatest disadvantage
So I resolved to observe the age-old posting of ridiculous hook-up advertisements in the chat room.
Suddenly, a familiar chat name posted an advertisement in the main room. He offered massage services and included in his ad was a picture profile, which I immediately recognized as someone I stalked for years. He was my trip and even if I could avail his services early on, it felt like his superiority in appeal would only bring down my confidence. I resolved to create a good impression if I decide to openly seek his expertise and that's what I did for two years. Without his thoughts occasionally peeking inside my head, I will never succeed in my own gym efforts.
So there, his nude and sexy photos filled my computer screen. There's nothing really special about him. He wasn't tall or had a muscular body. He wasn't even good-looking to the standards of many. What caught my attention was his animalistic appeal and his familiar resemblance to a high school friend, who was also my gimik companion until we both met our girlfriends in college.
---
Our transaction did not go well during the first few exchanges of private messages over chat. Maybe he was busy selling himself to other potential clients who were more serious in seeking his services. When asked how much does he charge for a massage, he answered P800. His price was totally beyond my budget, so I sought to ask him to lower his fee. He insisted on his price so I had to think twice whether to get it or not. In between the thoughts of backing out and accepting his bid, there was one thing that kept me reconsidering my decision.
I've gone so far to let this opportunity slip and I may never get the chance to fulfill this goal in the future.
So I waited for a better opportunity to come. I stayed in the chat room until I sensed that his other clients stayed undecided. I can't remember how I was able to open a small talk but my second attempt proved so successful, I was able to lower his price without showing any personal identities before reconsidering his fee.
"Kailangan ko lang talaga ng masahe pare eh. Sakit ng balikat ko kakabuhat ng bar sa gym."
"Talaga? Wow. Stats mo nga po?"
"5'9, semikal, moreno, muscular. Ayos ba?"
"Ayos nga."
"So ano, papamasahe ka pa po ba?"
"Ibaba mo yung presyo mo. Hindi ako makaka-gimik sa Malate pag pinilit mo yung P800 mo."
"Hmmm..." At the back of his mind, probably he was thinking that he will perform his services to someone who's probably as equally marketable as he is. It would still be a win-win situation for him.
"Sige 500 na lang basta walang extra ha?"
"Ayos lang sa akin. Masahe lang hanap ko pare." Had he known my true intentions, he would be extremely flattered if I told him that I longed him for years.
The transaction was immediately done and we met 20 minutes after I left the computer shop in San Andres Bukid. We proceeded to his place in one of the flats along South Superhighway. When we entered the room, I immediately noticed that it was barely furnished. The mattress was spread on the floor and the toiletries were scattered around the sink. He used a Bagua for a mirror and his clothes - clean and dirty hanged on any surface that can support its weight. From the looks of it, he needed a house cleaner and when I was asked to lie face down on his mattress, his pillow reeked of dried sweat.
---
He began his massage by rubbing and stretching the toes of my feet. I do not know what lotion he used, but the whiff of its aroma were more fragrant than the ones used in the massage parlors I checked before. I think he used a lavender oil mixed with alcohol. Between rubbing, squeezing and stretching my legs, we talked about his life. He said he got sponsors to keep him afloat. They gave him allowance for his daily needs and supported him in school. I noticed that there was an extra mattress lying next to his bed and he explained that he shared his apartment with a long-time roommate who goes to his family to spend the weekends.
I wonder if his roommate was a masseur too.
We continued our conversation as his hands made its way toward my hips. I told him that my salary was comparatively smaller than other outsourcing workers and I still live with my family to help them run the house.
"Hindi ako naniniwala sayo. Paano ka makakagimik kung maliit lang ang kinikita mo tapos may sinusuportahan ka pa na pamilya?"
"Matipid naman ako eh tsaka..." I sensed that he was making up stories so I had to make one myself. Strangely, no matter how twisted our facts were, our conversation lead to a much closer relationship that would reward me handsomely long after the massage was over.
Going back to his sponsors, he told me how support from them come and go. It was like he was exploiting these old men because he had the necessary assets to do so. At the end of his piece however, he made a gloomy afterthought that made me think of my place in the scheme of things as well.
"Alam mo kasi, hanggang bata ka pa, marami kang makukuhang sustento sa kanila. Pero magsasawa rin sila... Makakahanap sila ng mas bata sa iyo at kakailanganin mo rin tumayo sa sarili mong mga paa."
There was a sudden silence after he said these words, while his hands moved unopposed toward my arms. At the back of my head, I wondered if it is my destiny to become a sponsor to a younger guy when I grow old too.
"So paanong plano mo?" I asked.
"Tatapusin ko yung course ko sa nursing, tapos bahala na."
His service went on for another half hour. He twisted my limbs, bent my arms and I groaned from the pain whenever he stretched a joint that held my battered muscles together. His hands were good, but his hard methods left me agonizing from pain instead of getting relief from his Shiatsu massage.
As he was reaching for my chest, I looked at his chinito eyes. His gaze were steely and cold-blooded and no matter how he smiled, it felt like his heart was already drowned from cynicism that it could not distinguish a real kindness from a self-serving one. His lean body was drenched in sweat which turned me on a little, and if not for the agreement of staying professional in the course of his service, I would have asked to take off his undies too.
"Ayan tapos na tayo, paano yung extra naman." He said grinning while taking off his undies and exposing his already growing manhood to me.
"Teka diba 500 lang yung pinag-usapan natin?" I protested while he began fondling my chest.
"Madali naman akong kausap eh... okay na yun." Aha! Now I understand why he asked me earlier if I was a top or a bottom and why he made a significant focus on the crevasse of my butt while he massaged that part of my body.
And thus, the attack on the Jomanian homeworld had commenced.
It began with brief and boring foreplay which I tried to prolong by responding favorably to his advances. He groaned whenever I returned the favor by licking his chest or biting his arms, or nibbling his groins. At this point, any pleas for peace would fall into deaf ears for I had already resolved to free my demon armies, and bring down pleasure to the waiting aggressor.
After the foreplay, he stood up and began assaulting my throat. His was so big, it gave me a hard time conquering his power base. He responded to my good graces by trying to suck mine as well. He was a lousy one I tell you, but his efforts were well appreciated. I already got more from what I bargained but it seemed like my power base would get a nuclear strike before the deed was finally over.
"Ei, hindi ko kaya yan pare." He placed himself between my legs while placing a rubber around his missile.
"Kaya mo to. Ikaw pa!" I felt his head enter the tunnel of hell.
"Fuck ang sakit pare, labas mo ulit."
"Ahhh... dahan dahan. Talo ako sa laki mo eh." This time I was strongly protesting, but it seemed like he heard nothing.
When all of it was already inside, he began to move slowly. The grind was excruciating, but the challenge of being torpedoed by something far bigger than the ones I've faced before proved too exciting not to enjoy.
"Labas mo ulit pare, para swak sa susunod na bira mo."
"Ahhhh..."
"Ummmmmm..."
"Tangina dude ang sarap!" His pounding had increasingly become faster, I had to put my arm around his neck to feel him getting deeper into me.
Then I remembered my own style when I get to become the driller. Instead of getting my partner to lie down and pump him with a certain degree of power only gym goers could achieve, I let the receiver sit on mine so that its entirety will fit inside his happy hole.
Such performance happen rarely, but in every moment I get to be the impaler, my impalement is always missed.
"Malapit ka na pare?" I asked the pounder.
"Hindi pa, ikaw lang ang lalabasan ha" Darn, I want us to come together. But who am I to set the ground rules of our bed-war?
For all the times I thought I had become a top, in the face of a more aggressive opponent, I always switch back to the role of being the fuckee. Sometimes, I wonder if being tops and bottoms have something to do with personality. I hope that someday, someone will make a study about this strange phenomenon on sexual roles.
"Malapit na ako dude..." The moment he heard my announcement, his pounding had increased exponentially, something inside me was being filled with air pockets.
"Sige pa, kaya mo pa hah!" I was trying so hard to prolong my climax hoping that the delay would force him to cum as well. However, the non-stop pounding only made me suffer more.
"Ahhhhh..." The surge of pressure made it increasingly harder for me to breathe.
"Tangina.... Heto naaaaah."
With one detonation, it was me who had a nuclear explosion. The rain of white sticky debris was so spectacular, it covered not only the rolling plains of my tummy but also the stiff hills of my chest. He stopped his attacks the moment he felt my breathing became normal. Had he pursued his anal assaults after I surrendered my planet, it will leave me bleeding to death.
The cleaning up and dressing was over in 15 minutes. I revealed that he had another client and that's why he needed to rush things with me. As we descent the steps leading to the main road, I decided to stick with him up until we separate ways in Taft. But he had other plans that night. Instead of proceeding to his next client, he decided to eat his dinner first while I patiently waited for him in one corner.
"Nag-enjoy ka ba sa masahe ko?" He asked.
"Oo naman sobra."
"Sure ka ha, hindi lang yung isa ang nagustuhan mo."
"Peksman." It was a win-win strategy for me too. Had I not get the extra service, I will still be able to flirt freely inside the club.
We talked more about our interest while the jeep speeds toward Taft. I thought that he would still pursue his next client but at the last minute decided to stick with me and with my plans of having a night-out.
At half past midnight, his tour of duty as the masseur was over, while my responsibilities as his companion for the night had just began.
---
-tobecontinued-
I was about to log off from my station after publishing a blog entry last night when the thought of checking my favorite chatroom in MIRc came to mind. Nothing has changed in #Salsalan. The old folks might have left, but in their place came a younger generation who were more aggressive and direct in their hook-up practices. It wasn't my intention to join the feast knowing that I deleted my profile in G4M and having no face-pic or body-pic during private conversations will be my greatest disadvantage
So I resolved to observe the age-old posting of ridiculous hook-up advertisements in the chat room.
Suddenly, a familiar chat name posted an advertisement in the main room. He offered massage services and included in his ad was a picture profile, which I immediately recognized as someone I stalked for years. He was my trip and even if I could avail his services early on, it felt like his superiority in appeal would only bring down my confidence. I resolved to create a good impression if I decide to openly seek his expertise and that's what I did for two years. Without his thoughts occasionally peeking inside my head, I will never succeed in my own gym efforts.
So there, his nude and sexy photos filled my computer screen. There's nothing really special about him. He wasn't tall or had a muscular body. He wasn't even good-looking to the standards of many. What caught my attention was his animalistic appeal and his familiar resemblance to a high school friend, who was also my gimik companion until we both met our girlfriends in college.
---
Our transaction did not go well during the first few exchanges of private messages over chat. Maybe he was busy selling himself to other potential clients who were more serious in seeking his services. When asked how much does he charge for a massage, he answered P800. His price was totally beyond my budget, so I sought to ask him to lower his fee. He insisted on his price so I had to think twice whether to get it or not. In between the thoughts of backing out and accepting his bid, there was one thing that kept me reconsidering my decision.
I've gone so far to let this opportunity slip and I may never get the chance to fulfill this goal in the future.
So I waited for a better opportunity to come. I stayed in the chat room until I sensed that his other clients stayed undecided. I can't remember how I was able to open a small talk but my second attempt proved so successful, I was able to lower his price without showing any personal identities before reconsidering his fee.
"Kailangan ko lang talaga ng masahe pare eh. Sakit ng balikat ko kakabuhat ng bar sa gym."
"Talaga? Wow. Stats mo nga po?"
"5'9, semikal, moreno, muscular. Ayos ba?"
"Ayos nga."
"So ano, papamasahe ka pa po ba?"
"Ibaba mo yung presyo mo. Hindi ako makaka-gimik sa Malate pag pinilit mo yung P800 mo."
"Hmmm..." At the back of his mind, probably he was thinking that he will perform his services to someone who's probably as equally marketable as he is. It would still be a win-win situation for him.
"Sige 500 na lang basta walang extra ha?"
"Ayos lang sa akin. Masahe lang hanap ko pare." Had he known my true intentions, he would be extremely flattered if I told him that I longed him for years.
The transaction was immediately done and we met 20 minutes after I left the computer shop in San Andres Bukid. We proceeded to his place in one of the flats along South Superhighway. When we entered the room, I immediately noticed that it was barely furnished. The mattress was spread on the floor and the toiletries were scattered around the sink. He used a Bagua for a mirror and his clothes - clean and dirty hanged on any surface that can support its weight. From the looks of it, he needed a house cleaner and when I was asked to lie face down on his mattress, his pillow reeked of dried sweat.
---
He began his massage by rubbing and stretching the toes of my feet. I do not know what lotion he used, but the whiff of its aroma were more fragrant than the ones used in the massage parlors I checked before. I think he used a lavender oil mixed with alcohol. Between rubbing, squeezing and stretching my legs, we talked about his life. He said he got sponsors to keep him afloat. They gave him allowance for his daily needs and supported him in school. I noticed that there was an extra mattress lying next to his bed and he explained that he shared his apartment with a long-time roommate who goes to his family to spend the weekends.
I wonder if his roommate was a masseur too.
We continued our conversation as his hands made its way toward my hips. I told him that my salary was comparatively smaller than other outsourcing workers and I still live with my family to help them run the house.
"Hindi ako naniniwala sayo. Paano ka makakagimik kung maliit lang ang kinikita mo tapos may sinusuportahan ka pa na pamilya?"
"Matipid naman ako eh tsaka..." I sensed that he was making up stories so I had to make one myself. Strangely, no matter how twisted our facts were, our conversation lead to a much closer relationship that would reward me handsomely long after the massage was over.
Going back to his sponsors, he told me how support from them come and go. It was like he was exploiting these old men because he had the necessary assets to do so. At the end of his piece however, he made a gloomy afterthought that made me think of my place in the scheme of things as well.
"Alam mo kasi, hanggang bata ka pa, marami kang makukuhang sustento sa kanila. Pero magsasawa rin sila... Makakahanap sila ng mas bata sa iyo at kakailanganin mo rin tumayo sa sarili mong mga paa."
There was a sudden silence after he said these words, while his hands moved unopposed toward my arms. At the back of my head, I wondered if it is my destiny to become a sponsor to a younger guy when I grow old too.
"So paanong plano mo?" I asked.
"Tatapusin ko yung course ko sa nursing, tapos bahala na."
His service went on for another half hour. He twisted my limbs, bent my arms and I groaned from the pain whenever he stretched a joint that held my battered muscles together. His hands were good, but his hard methods left me agonizing from pain instead of getting relief from his Shiatsu massage.
As he was reaching for my chest, I looked at his chinito eyes. His gaze were steely and cold-blooded and no matter how he smiled, it felt like his heart was already drowned from cynicism that it could not distinguish a real kindness from a self-serving one. His lean body was drenched in sweat which turned me on a little, and if not for the agreement of staying professional in the course of his service, I would have asked to take off his undies too.
"Ayan tapos na tayo, paano yung extra naman." He said grinning while taking off his undies and exposing his already growing manhood to me.
"Teka diba 500 lang yung pinag-usapan natin?" I protested while he began fondling my chest.
"Madali naman akong kausap eh... okay na yun." Aha! Now I understand why he asked me earlier if I was a top or a bottom and why he made a significant focus on the crevasse of my butt while he massaged that part of my body.
And thus, the attack on the Jomanian homeworld had commenced.
It began with brief and boring foreplay which I tried to prolong by responding favorably to his advances. He groaned whenever I returned the favor by licking his chest or biting his arms, or nibbling his groins. At this point, any pleas for peace would fall into deaf ears for I had already resolved to free my demon armies, and bring down pleasure to the waiting aggressor.
After the foreplay, he stood up and began assaulting my throat. His was so big, it gave me a hard time conquering his power base. He responded to my good graces by trying to suck mine as well. He was a lousy one I tell you, but his efforts were well appreciated. I already got more from what I bargained but it seemed like my power base would get a nuclear strike before the deed was finally over.
"Ei, hindi ko kaya yan pare." He placed himself between my legs while placing a rubber around his missile.
"Kaya mo to. Ikaw pa!" I felt his head enter the tunnel of hell.
"Fuck ang sakit pare, labas mo ulit."
"Ahhh... dahan dahan. Talo ako sa laki mo eh." This time I was strongly protesting, but it seemed like he heard nothing.
When all of it was already inside, he began to move slowly. The grind was excruciating, but the challenge of being torpedoed by something far bigger than the ones I've faced before proved too exciting not to enjoy.
"Labas mo ulit pare, para swak sa susunod na bira mo."
"Ahhhh..."
"Ummmmmm..."
"Tangina dude ang sarap!" His pounding had increasingly become faster, I had to put my arm around his neck to feel him getting deeper into me.
Then I remembered my own style when I get to become the driller. Instead of getting my partner to lie down and pump him with a certain degree of power only gym goers could achieve, I let the receiver sit on mine so that its entirety will fit inside his happy hole.
Such performance happen rarely, but in every moment I get to be the impaler, my impalement is always missed.
"Malapit ka na pare?" I asked the pounder.
"Hindi pa, ikaw lang ang lalabasan ha" Darn, I want us to come together. But who am I to set the ground rules of our bed-war?
For all the times I thought I had become a top, in the face of a more aggressive opponent, I always switch back to the role of being the fuckee. Sometimes, I wonder if being tops and bottoms have something to do with personality. I hope that someday, someone will make a study about this strange phenomenon on sexual roles.
"Malapit na ako dude..." The moment he heard my announcement, his pounding had increased exponentially, something inside me was being filled with air pockets.
"Sige pa, kaya mo pa hah!" I was trying so hard to prolong my climax hoping that the delay would force him to cum as well. However, the non-stop pounding only made me suffer more.
"Ahhhhh..." The surge of pressure made it increasingly harder for me to breathe.
"Tangina.... Heto naaaaah."
With one detonation, it was me who had a nuclear explosion. The rain of white sticky debris was so spectacular, it covered not only the rolling plains of my tummy but also the stiff hills of my chest. He stopped his attacks the moment he felt my breathing became normal. Had he pursued his anal assaults after I surrendered my planet, it will leave me bleeding to death.
The cleaning up and dressing was over in 15 minutes. I revealed that he had another client and that's why he needed to rush things with me. As we descent the steps leading to the main road, I decided to stick with him up until we separate ways in Taft. But he had other plans that night. Instead of proceeding to his next client, he decided to eat his dinner first while I patiently waited for him in one corner.
"Nag-enjoy ka ba sa masahe ko?" He asked.
"Oo naman sobra."
"Sure ka ha, hindi lang yung isa ang nagustuhan mo."
"Peksman." It was a win-win strategy for me too. Had I not get the extra service, I will still be able to flirt freely inside the club.
We talked more about our interest while the jeep speeds toward Taft. I thought that he would still pursue his next client but at the last minute decided to stick with me and with my plans of having a night-out.
At half past midnight, his tour of duty as the masseur was over, while my responsibilities as his companion for the night had just began.
---
-tobecontinued-
