Monday, February 18, 2008
Raw Emotions
My suitcase from last month’s trip from home remains unpacked. I have a couple of dresses and silk blouses that require dry cleaning. My bathroom is still as gross as it was in December 2007. In less than three weeks’ time, I am flying home again. To which after a week in Asia and back in Australia, I will hop on the plane again to cross the Atlantic Ocean five days after.
Work is ever increasing on top of a hectic work travelling schedule in March.
My assignments are due in one week and so is my exam, which will ensue when I touch down at the end of my second trip (I will be spending the last of my 20-something birthday on the plane, snuggling up to my revision notes on my Business class bed). I am behind time with my postgraduate studies and I am not about to fail my last subject. At the rate I am going with my revision, I am set for failure.
Messy. My life is.
****
I have been bloody distracted. I have tossed and turned in bed one too many a time. Hot and bothered I am.
A thousand and one images of Old Boy have been haunting my mind- his phallus, his touch, the movement of our lustful bodies, our lascivious tongues, that lyrical moan of his, our hungry mouths…
I have spent many late nights and early mornings lying in bed fantasizing about making sweet love once again to the Old Boy. So much so that I run the risk of missing my train to work on time…
****
“Fuck and chuck!” V has been drumming the phrase in my head.
“You got to stop this!”
I am not supposed to be sentimental, she cautioned.
I tried defending myself. “I cannot be callous.”
She is piqued by his use of the word “disappointment” on me. It resonated with her past life and how she had allowed the men in her life to use that on her. Never will she allow anyone to use that on her again and so should I.
Whilst I was re-visiting our old correspondences, I came across an August email. The Old Boy once also wrote that he was “disappointed” with me because I did ended up being intimate with Nano.
Ironically, the Old Boy is fond of saying- “zero expectations= zero disappointment”.
If my motto is “Can you/ I handle it?”, the above must be his.
****
“Yeah, I got ditched.”
“By whom?”
“(The Old Boy’s nickname).”
“Well, I hope the sex was great at least.”
“It was awesome. I had the biggest orgasm a girl could have.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Do you want to read about it?”
(He doesn’t know I keep a site but every so often, he asks to read some of my writings which I would send him sporadically).
Long Pause.
“So when did you fuck?”
It must have been the second time he asked.
“When I was back home. Why? Are you tracking the time as to when that led up to the supposed Manila trip?”
“Nothing. I was just asking.”
Whatever. I wasn’t in the mood to care either.
Missed your boat.
Next month, I could stop over at San Francisco where Nano will be for a month. He mentioned he would be there. Now I have decided I would like to go to L.A for the weekend.
For once, I would like to work my life according to my own plans.
I must be very capable of disappointing.
****
I am getting all frisky. The thought of the Old Boy send me the tingles.
My friends asked me what is it with me.
For one, you must know the Old Boy is much older.
For two, I have slept with hunks and I tend to like very tall men.
The Old Boy is neither.
We compared heights on 31st December 2007 at Hotel 81. We are the same height.
He spots a small middle-aged potbelly.
He isn’t exactly loaded either. I make as much as him.
I am constantly attracted to driven men but find myself at the mercy of laid back ones.
So wherein lies the attraction?
**
The allure of the older man, I guess.
Most importantly, the 360 experience we had before. He got me mind, body and soul.
There is something child-like about him from the very beginning about his friendship, his quest for affairs and romance.
The tenderness of his voice and that vulnerability of his soul. So fragile, like a girl’s. There is something effeminate about him and his youthful face. The Old Boy has been mistaken for being camp many a time and had been offered to become a toy boy by both men and women. He has been a recipient of very expensive gifts by women. It complements that masculine, “tough as nail” side of my personality.
The Old Boy was always at my service as he pours me my whiskey while a non-drinker like him would indulged on me. I miss his full service- feeding me sashimi, massaging my back and pleasuring me at my whim and fancy. I always like to be served and pampered like the queen- that’s the Dominant P.
I love the tenderness of his voice as he calls me “sweetheart”. It teases the very damsel out of me. I feel like a young-ish girl in the arms of the older lover. The Old Boy is a talented musician and singer and there is something melodic about that voice of his. As the younger men I have been with helped re-capture parts of my youth, being with the Old Boy allows me to let my guard down as I play the role of that young vulnerable girl.
The Old Boy has a jealous personality as a lover that I find rather refreshing and rather stifling at the same time. It seems all very petty to me because I am hardly a jealous person. But somehow, the Old Boy has a way of working that magic on me that lets him get away with bad behaviour whilst I baby him and beg him to nurse his ego. I do indulge him that way.
I have a perverse attraction to the Old Boy’s sordid life. His promiscuity and the low lifes that he fucks- my emotions alternate between being turned on and being disgusted. I don’t know why. Secretly, it turns me on… He has a way of bring out the animalistic instincts of me.
The Old Boy never fails to make me want to fuck him real hard. I love to watch him become all so vulnerable whilst I pleasure him with my tongue and my mouth. I get hungry and sex starved just at the thought of his very touch and every so often, I do get so horny from submission as he stood on the bed and shoved his engorged beast deep down my throat whilst I part knelt and stood by the edge of the bed with his hand held my head and dictated the motion and speed of my oral movement until I go breathless.
The thought of me using my fat dildo to fuck his ass as I hear him moan in delight and him fucking me real hard to as he sticks his finger up my ass are fast spinning my wheels. I am dying for him to play the role of a teacher and spank me, a naughty schoolgirl before he plays with me- him the older lover will befit the role oh so well….
I don’t know what’s got into me but Old Boy provides me with the one-stop shop- food for my soul, life to my body and comfort to my heart. He provides me with comfort that way.
The best part is having for once a certainty- the certainty of no future. This is exactly what I need now. Knowing the ending right from the beginning. Right now, I am fearful of Hope.
I am so wanton for the Old Boy’s touch, I feel my heart racing at the thought of him. I can only think of ravaging him at the moment.
Somehow once you’ve found someone who suits your style, you can only focus on that one now.
****
Funny, when you think you are all set when you found the one lover and friend (who is even more polygamous than yourself), you could be so wrong…
No, he turns around and say he doesn’t want you anymore because you have cheated on him…
I do miss his sordid tales (contrary to his belief that the sex did our candidness in) but guess I haven’t the heart to listen when I don’t get all of him…
So yeah, I can now only fucking fantasize and doesn’t help that I won’t be seeing him when I touch down since he would be out of town. Seems like it’s all fated.
Why am I not surprise with my own fate?
Feels like de ja vu all over again- last yr, I had a great January 2007 of indulgence and comes homecoming March 2007, I returned home with a broken heart. I almost see the pattern falling into place yet again…
Heck of bull in this post-just ranting on and typing my train of thoughts… thanks for those who bothered to plough through this crap.
More worthy pieces to come in the backburner…
My suitcase from last month’s trip from home remains unpacked. I have a couple of dresses and silk blouses that require dry cleaning. My bathroom is still as gross as it was in December 2007. In less than three weeks’ time, I am flying home again. To which after a week in Asia and back in Australia, I will hop on the plane again to cross the Atlantic Ocean five days after.
Work is ever increasing on top of a hectic work travelling schedule in March.
My assignments are due in one week and so is my exam, which will ensue when I touch down at the end of my second trip (I will be spending the last of my 20-something birthday on the plane, snuggling up to my revision notes on my Business class bed). I am behind time with my postgraduate studies and I am not about to fail my last subject. At the rate I am going with my revision, I am set for failure.
Messy. My life is.
****
I have been bloody distracted. I have tossed and turned in bed one too many a time. Hot and bothered I am.
A thousand and one images of Old Boy have been haunting my mind- his phallus, his touch, the movement of our lustful bodies, our lascivious tongues, that lyrical moan of his, our hungry mouths…
I have spent many late nights and early mornings lying in bed fantasizing about making sweet love once again to the Old Boy. So much so that I run the risk of missing my train to work on time…
****
“Fuck and chuck!” V has been drumming the phrase in my head.
“You got to stop this!”
I am not supposed to be sentimental, she cautioned.
I tried defending myself. “I cannot be callous.”
She is piqued by his use of the word “disappointment” on me. It resonated with her past life and how she had allowed the men in her life to use that on her. Never will she allow anyone to use that on her again and so should I.
Whilst I was re-visiting our old correspondences, I came across an August email. The Old Boy once also wrote that he was “disappointed” with me because I did ended up being intimate with Nano.
Ironically, the Old Boy is fond of saying- “zero expectations= zero disappointment”.
If my motto is “Can you/ I handle it?”, the above must be his.
****
“Yeah, I got ditched.”
“By whom?”
“(The Old Boy’s nickname).”
“Well, I hope the sex was great at least.”
“It was awesome. I had the biggest orgasm a girl could have.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Do you want to read about it?”
(He doesn’t know I keep a site but every so often, he asks to read some of my writings which I would send him sporadically).
Long Pause.
“So when did you fuck?”
It must have been the second time he asked.
“When I was back home. Why? Are you tracking the time as to when that led up to the supposed Manila trip?”
“Nothing. I was just asking.”
Whatever. I wasn’t in the mood to care either.
Missed your boat.
Next month, I could stop over at San Francisco where Nano will be for a month. He mentioned he would be there. Now I have decided I would like to go to L.A for the weekend.
For once, I would like to work my life according to my own plans.
I must be very capable of disappointing.
****
I am getting all frisky. The thought of the Old Boy send me the tingles.
My friends asked me what is it with me.
For one, you must know the Old Boy is much older.
For two, I have slept with hunks and I tend to like very tall men.
The Old Boy is neither.
We compared heights on 31st December 2007 at Hotel 81. We are the same height.
He spots a small middle-aged potbelly.
He isn’t exactly loaded either. I make as much as him.
I am constantly attracted to driven men but find myself at the mercy of laid back ones.
So wherein lies the attraction?
**
The allure of the older man, I guess.
Most importantly, the 360 experience we had before. He got me mind, body and soul.
There is something child-like about him from the very beginning about his friendship, his quest for affairs and romance.
The tenderness of his voice and that vulnerability of his soul. So fragile, like a girl’s. There is something effeminate about him and his youthful face. The Old Boy has been mistaken for being camp many a time and had been offered to become a toy boy by both men and women. He has been a recipient of very expensive gifts by women. It complements that masculine, “tough as nail” side of my personality.
The Old Boy was always at my service as he pours me my whiskey while a non-drinker like him would indulged on me. I miss his full service- feeding me sashimi, massaging my back and pleasuring me at my whim and fancy. I always like to be served and pampered like the queen- that’s the Dominant P.
I love the tenderness of his voice as he calls me “sweetheart”. It teases the very damsel out of me. I feel like a young-ish girl in the arms of the older lover. The Old Boy is a talented musician and singer and there is something melodic about that voice of his. As the younger men I have been with helped re-capture parts of my youth, being with the Old Boy allows me to let my guard down as I play the role of that young vulnerable girl.
The Old Boy has a jealous personality as a lover that I find rather refreshing and rather stifling at the same time. It seems all very petty to me because I am hardly a jealous person. But somehow, the Old Boy has a way of working that magic on me that lets him get away with bad behaviour whilst I baby him and beg him to nurse his ego. I do indulge him that way.
I have a perverse attraction to the Old Boy’s sordid life. His promiscuity and the low lifes that he fucks- my emotions alternate between being turned on and being disgusted. I don’t know why. Secretly, it turns me on… He has a way of bring out the animalistic instincts of me.
The Old Boy never fails to make me want to fuck him real hard. I love to watch him become all so vulnerable whilst I pleasure him with my tongue and my mouth. I get hungry and sex starved just at the thought of his very touch and every so often, I do get so horny from submission as he stood on the bed and shoved his engorged beast deep down my throat whilst I part knelt and stood by the edge of the bed with his hand held my head and dictated the motion and speed of my oral movement until I go breathless.
The thought of me using my fat dildo to fuck his ass as I hear him moan in delight and him fucking me real hard to as he sticks his finger up my ass are fast spinning my wheels. I am dying for him to play the role of a teacher and spank me, a naughty schoolgirl before he plays with me- him the older lover will befit the role oh so well….
I don’t know what’s got into me but Old Boy provides me with the one-stop shop- food for my soul, life to my body and comfort to my heart. He provides me with comfort that way.
The best part is having for once a certainty- the certainty of no future. This is exactly what I need now. Knowing the ending right from the beginning. Right now, I am fearful of Hope.
I am so wanton for the Old Boy’s touch, I feel my heart racing at the thought of him. I can only think of ravaging him at the moment.
Somehow once you’ve found someone who suits your style, you can only focus on that one now.
****
Funny, when you think you are all set when you found the one lover and friend (who is even more polygamous than yourself), you could be so wrong…
No, he turns around and say he doesn’t want you anymore because you have cheated on him…
I do miss his sordid tales (contrary to his belief that the sex did our candidness in) but guess I haven’t the heart to listen when I don’t get all of him…
So yeah, I can now only fucking fantasize and doesn’t help that I won’t be seeing him when I touch down since he would be out of town. Seems like it’s all fated.
Why am I not surprise with my own fate?
Feels like de ja vu all over again- last yr, I had a great January 2007 of indulgence and comes homecoming March 2007, I returned home with a broken heart. I almost see the pattern falling into place yet again…
Heck of bull in this post-just ranting on and typing my train of thoughts… thanks for those who bothered to plough through this crap.
More worthy pieces to come in the backburner…
