Thursday, May 28, 2009
Friday
Tomorrow I need to get packing. I need to do the laundry and pack up the laundry and then pack my luggage. I am due for Sydney on Saturday. On Sunday, I fly home to Singapore for a month.
I don't look forward to packing. I never did.
It's been more than six months since I left Singapore. Going home seems daunting, especially when you haven't been this penniless for a long time.
For the first time, I feel numb with no anticipation or exciting activities to look forward to.
Tomorrow I need to get packing. I need to do the laundry and pack up the laundry and then pack my luggage. I am due for Sydney on Saturday. On Sunday, I fly home to Singapore for a month.
I don't look forward to packing. I never did.
It's been more than six months since I left Singapore. Going home seems daunting, especially when you haven't been this penniless for a long time.
For the first time, I feel numb with no anticipation or exciting activities to look forward to.
Non-Committal
How many times can one take a betrayal to get a heartbreak?
Readers out there, perhaps you can proffer me with some answers.
You see, for a long time, I have been living in outer space.
How many more times will you hide things from me and continue with your behaviour to get it that you are hurting me? Do you want me to kill myself before you will stop? Why do you have to come back if you were not ready?
I have never seen a more broken hearted man.
Me, causing a big man to break down and cry.
He has always been a family man for as long as I know him and how he had looked forward to my return. But he sensed I was a different person pre-occupied in my own private and faraway thoughts.
He felt he could never get to me. After almost nine years, he felt he has never quite fathom me.
That is why I could never marry you now.
A distress call and a plea for help in the wee hours of the morning. His emotions stirred from some previous guy talk and enough alcohol for him to reveal his thoughts.
He has been getting sadder and sadder with time, little I realised for he has always been a sensitive man. He keeps his feelings closed to his heart and took whatever he could- allowing me time to heal and seek my own happiness, doing whatever I pleased whilst he keeps two jobs to feed an emotionally unsound, self-indulgent loon like me. I have friends to seek refuge and confide in whilst he has none that he trusted enough to speak to. Fluffball has always been his main source of comfort.
Numb I was. I don't know why.
Why do I have the privilege to be un-feeling when I was the betrayer who got caught out with all my suggestive online sweet nothings?
Third time over. I hurt him. I kept him. I left him. I hurt him. I came back to him. I continue hurting him.
I let him make the decision what he wanted to do next in his life after he made me re-tell my entire life story.
I was calm.
I have everything to lose. No career, not a cent in my bank and most importantly, no alternative roof over my head in Sad Town.
I hate you. Why must I always be the one making the decision? Why don't you ever want to make any decision?
He was crying hard. That expression of plea for me to have a heart and think for him. He wanted me to say yes, I am sorry and yes, I want us together.
He wanted to find another excuse to take me back. One more time.
*****
I have always prided myself to be decisive.
I just realised my problem. I lack commitment. Or more precisely, I like being non committal. I grew up having a fear of responsibility. Middle kid syndrome plus the elder sibling has always been the safe pair of hands.
Then I always grow up with a mum who taught us to keep our options open when we were younger. And true to the letter I did, too much for my own good perhaps and I suspect my mum is also disapproving it for me.
I also have that nasty desire to tempt fate. My curiousity of life. What will action A lead to? Then how about B or C?
I always think I am smart enough to win at a near impossible situation.
But with the heart, I realise one couldn't be too smart about things and focus on winning.
******
During the confrontation, I was numb.
Suddenly, it felt like a part of my brain got connected and I was reminded of a similar situation (with lesser far reaching consequences) that highlighted the recurring theme of my being non-committal in life.
I remember how after my betrayal to the Old Boy for shagging the Koran, the Old Boy did forgive me and was quick to do so.
Again, I thought I could get away with murder. Or rather betrayal, which is just as grievous, Except yours truly never give much thought to the far reaching implications when emotions are involved. In her warped mind, yours truly thinks that to own up to one's actions meant the passport to continue in self-indulgence.
A few times, the Old Boy tried asking leading questions on whether sex was forced on me by the Koran, hoping for an answer yes perhaps to mitigate in part his own emotional barrier for forgiving an audacious and obnoxious person like me who showed little remorse initially. After all, though ironically enough, he was one who never takes chances with a female who has betrayed him. To stir his old heart yet again.
Then came March 2008 when I was due to head back home to Singapore. The Old Boy asked again if I would sleep with anyone. To which, I tried to avoid the question by saying I wasn't seeing anyone in Ozland. He had little choice but to ask directly by bringing up the Koran's name. Still, I could say to him no, I won't.I couldn't verbally affirm my commitment. I saw it as a trap. I didn't want to break a promise, mainly because I didn't know if I could fulfil it. And it was simply because I was faithless. Faithless that by me saying yes, the Old Boy would indeed resume things with me. What if I did and he didn't want to be with me? I felt I would be a fool.
And fool I was for rationalising with my head and not using my heart.
Then it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Old Boy says:
and you get upset when i lie to you...but you did the biggest lie of all
P says:
I told u the truth when u asked- I wd have told u too when u come back from dubai
P says:
it wasnt a lie
Old Boy says:
nope...you lied about the promise
Old Boy says:
that's a truly sacred thing to me
............
Old Boy says:
ok....just thinking that i could change the story so that we could have sex again...just giving you an avenue out...sun tze art of war...
P says:
xiao (I.e. Crazy)
Old Boy says:
if you said he forced or coerced a little....i would have given in
P says:
not force that way
Old Boy says:
and taken you back...becos i miss the great sex we had! : P
Old Boy says:
(and thinking about it now...i am fcuking getting a hard on)
Old Boy says:
(thinking of you sticking your little dildo up my ass...was definitely a major fcuking turnon darling)\
P says:
I won't incriminate him that way but its not particularly like I was damn on
.........................
Old Boy says:
everytime i try to forgive you....
P says:
u are making me cry again
Old Boy says:
i just can't
.........................
Old Boy says:
i am really trying hard to forgive you and to take you back so that we can relive those great times in bed
Old Boy says:
the 360 experience
*******
Quarantine is what I have done to myself stop my imagination and curiosity to get the better of me. Stop thinking, stop fantasizing, stop acting and stop hurting others...
These days, if I am not committed to working on business plans, I spend my day napping away the afternoon committing to slumber and temporary mental respite.
How many times can one take a betrayal to get a heartbreak?
Readers out there, perhaps you can proffer me with some answers.
You see, for a long time, I have been living in outer space.
How many more times will you hide things from me and continue with your behaviour to get it that you are hurting me? Do you want me to kill myself before you will stop? Why do you have to come back if you were not ready?
I have never seen a more broken hearted man.
Me, causing a big man to break down and cry.
He has always been a family man for as long as I know him and how he had looked forward to my return. But he sensed I was a different person pre-occupied in my own private and faraway thoughts.
He felt he could never get to me. After almost nine years, he felt he has never quite fathom me.
That is why I could never marry you now.
A distress call and a plea for help in the wee hours of the morning. His emotions stirred from some previous guy talk and enough alcohol for him to reveal his thoughts.
He has been getting sadder and sadder with time, little I realised for he has always been a sensitive man. He keeps his feelings closed to his heart and took whatever he could- allowing me time to heal and seek my own happiness, doing whatever I pleased whilst he keeps two jobs to feed an emotionally unsound, self-indulgent loon like me. I have friends to seek refuge and confide in whilst he has none that he trusted enough to speak to. Fluffball has always been his main source of comfort.
Numb I was. I don't know why.
Why do I have the privilege to be un-feeling when I was the betrayer who got caught out with all my suggestive online sweet nothings?
Third time over. I hurt him. I kept him. I left him. I hurt him. I came back to him. I continue hurting him.
I let him make the decision what he wanted to do next in his life after he made me re-tell my entire life story.
I was calm.
I have everything to lose. No career, not a cent in my bank and most importantly, no alternative roof over my head in Sad Town.
I hate you. Why must I always be the one making the decision? Why don't you ever want to make any decision?
He was crying hard. That expression of plea for me to have a heart and think for him. He wanted me to say yes, I am sorry and yes, I want us together.
He wanted to find another excuse to take me back. One more time.
*****
I have always prided myself to be decisive.
I just realised my problem. I lack commitment. Or more precisely, I like being non committal. I grew up having a fear of responsibility. Middle kid syndrome plus the elder sibling has always been the safe pair of hands.
Then I always grow up with a mum who taught us to keep our options open when we were younger. And true to the letter I did, too much for my own good perhaps and I suspect my mum is also disapproving it for me.
I also have that nasty desire to tempt fate. My curiousity of life. What will action A lead to? Then how about B or C?
I always think I am smart enough to win at a near impossible situation.
But with the heart, I realise one couldn't be too smart about things and focus on winning.
******
During the confrontation, I was numb.
Suddenly, it felt like a part of my brain got connected and I was reminded of a similar situation (with lesser far reaching consequences) that highlighted the recurring theme of my being non-committal in life.
I remember how after my betrayal to the Old Boy for shagging the Koran, the Old Boy did forgive me and was quick to do so.
Again, I thought I could get away with murder. Or rather betrayal, which is just as grievous, Except yours truly never give much thought to the far reaching implications when emotions are involved. In her warped mind, yours truly thinks that to own up to one's actions meant the passport to continue in self-indulgence.
A few times, the Old Boy tried asking leading questions on whether sex was forced on me by the Koran, hoping for an answer yes perhaps to mitigate in part his own emotional barrier for forgiving an audacious and obnoxious person like me who showed little remorse initially. After all, though ironically enough, he was one who never takes chances with a female who has betrayed him. To stir his old heart yet again.
Then came March 2008 when I was due to head back home to Singapore. The Old Boy asked again if I would sleep with anyone. To which, I tried to avoid the question by saying I wasn't seeing anyone in Ozland. He had little choice but to ask directly by bringing up the Koran's name. Still, I could say to him no, I won't.I couldn't verbally affirm my commitment. I saw it as a trap. I didn't want to break a promise, mainly because I didn't know if I could fulfil it. And it was simply because I was faithless. Faithless that by me saying yes, the Old Boy would indeed resume things with me. What if I did and he didn't want to be with me? I felt I would be a fool.
And fool I was for rationalising with my head and not using my heart.
Then it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Old Boy says:
and you get upset when i lie to you...but you did the biggest lie of all
P says:
I told u the truth when u asked- I wd have told u too when u come back from dubai
P says:
it wasnt a lie
Old Boy says:
nope...you lied about the promise
Old Boy says:
that's a truly sacred thing to me
............
Old Boy says:
ok....just thinking that i could change the story so that we could have sex again...just giving you an avenue out...sun tze art of war...
P says:
xiao (I.e. Crazy)
Old Boy says:
if you said he forced or coerced a little....i would have given in
P says:
not force that way
Old Boy says:
and taken you back...becos i miss the great sex we had! : P
Old Boy says:
(and thinking about it now...i am fcuking getting a hard on)
Old Boy says:
(thinking of you sticking your little dildo up my ass...was definitely a major fcuking turnon darling)\
P says:
I won't incriminate him that way but its not particularly like I was damn on
.........................
Old Boy says:
everytime i try to forgive you....
P says:
u are making me cry again
Old Boy says:
i just can't
.........................
Old Boy says:
i am really trying hard to forgive you and to take you back so that we can relive those great times in bed
Old Boy says:
the 360 experience
*******
Quarantine is what I have done to myself stop my imagination and curiosity to get the better of me. Stop thinking, stop fantasizing, stop acting and stop hurting others...
These days, if I am not committed to working on business plans, I spend my day napping away the afternoon committing to slumber and temporary mental respite.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Inspiring Position
At 2.30am this morning, I found myself staring at the completed sketch of my fashion illustration on the coffee table, soft jazzy music in the background.
I grew fixated at the sketch, trying to come up with new ways at improvement.
I was initially perched on DL's blue exercise fitball. In my entranced state, I was seated, rocking to and fro. Unwittingly, I slided downwards and found myself in the most comfortable and inspiring position.
Fitball supporting lower back and feet on a short stool and knees propped against coffee table for support.
I actually found myself focusing. Lovely! Am going to try it one more time in a moment!:)
At 2.30am this morning, I found myself staring at the completed sketch of my fashion illustration on the coffee table, soft jazzy music in the background.
I grew fixated at the sketch, trying to come up with new ways at improvement.
I was initially perched on DL's blue exercise fitball. In my entranced state, I was seated, rocking to and fro. Unwittingly, I slided downwards and found myself in the most comfortable and inspiring position.
Fitball supporting lower back and feet on a short stool and knees propped against coffee table for support.
I actually found myself focusing. Lovely! Am going to try it one more time in a moment!:)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
On a Quiet Afternoon...
after DL returns back to work from lunch and I have no Daisy to come and distract me, I often find that sinking feeling in my heart once more... that inextricable feeling of helplessness that comes to grip me once more.
I find myself lying down, like I want to sleep my time away and forget it all, maybe forget myself , that deep dissatisfaction that rises and falls within me like a rolling wave. I ask myself why I should feel this way and how I have become this state of self indulgence I have been for the longest time...
Sometimes, I thought it has ceased for good. My love from and for DL in this safe little haven in Sad Town I call home is hardy enough to shield me from it all. The usual weekend supper club gang have even planned for a joint couples holiday to Japan next year. I suggested it and everyone was keen and excited and me too since for once, I bother to plan a group holiday and do what contented family type people do, instead of taking off yet again alone once more...
Today, I feel empty yet again. The reverberations of my unsettled mind rattles my composure. Every so often, I feel that hard squeeze when I so allow a mere shadow of a memory disturb me. These days, I am better at controlling my thoughts. I stop fantasizing because I am always afraid where my imagination would lead me in my real life and the consequences thereafter. And then I stop having Hope...
On a quiet afternoon, I am unfocused and depressed once again. In the past, I sought refuge from my laptop, cyberspace and words. But for the past week, I am afraid and resilient to the liberal use of this device and entering the virtual world with my persona, P. Cold comfort, it was.
Now there is none. Busted, I was. My past spilled over to my current life. Being the man I have designated to be the love of my life, he knows or rather, senses me well. Except, it is all happening in my head, little could he empathise with. So one by one, my past caught up with me and so were the identities of the various individuals that has thematically summed up the shady contents of my cyber alleyway. Again, his magnimity from the intensity of his love for me found a good reason for forgiveness. I am spared. I am grateful. I am numb.
*****
I remember a time when I so wanted to end my life.
I was numb too.
Good news is I have no desire to end my life now. A different numbness I feel.
Just immune to bareness. Fully exposed in full view.
What fun is there in hide and seek?
*****
I have always been for the destination growing up. Always wanting to getaway from a moment in time. Always feeling trapped and the need to move on to something else.
Impatient I am.
Always waiting for a reaction or to test a reaction. Or observe the different possible permutations and combinations of outcomes of how an action in Situation A could possibly result in Outcome B, C, D or more.
Curious I am.
I find that for a long time I have used my own life as one big social experimentation. A big part of the events and my experiences have been a result of my insatiable fixation on perfection and so unwittingly I try to search for answers and perhaps questions only meaningful to myself. Except what exactly is it that is meaningful?
“Dysthymia” is a new found word I learnt recently. Somehow I think this is the answer to my quest for it.
****
Recently, in my sad, sad state lying in bed post a major meltdown with DL, I started to experience in my mind technicolour visions of fashion creations.
A week and a half ago.
Now I better take out my visual diary and start sketching.
after DL returns back to work from lunch and I have no Daisy to come and distract me, I often find that sinking feeling in my heart once more... that inextricable feeling of helplessness that comes to grip me once more.
I find myself lying down, like I want to sleep my time away and forget it all, maybe forget myself , that deep dissatisfaction that rises and falls within me like a rolling wave. I ask myself why I should feel this way and how I have become this state of self indulgence I have been for the longest time...
Sometimes, I thought it has ceased for good. My love from and for DL in this safe little haven in Sad Town I call home is hardy enough to shield me from it all. The usual weekend supper club gang have even planned for a joint couples holiday to Japan next year. I suggested it and everyone was keen and excited and me too since for once, I bother to plan a group holiday and do what contented family type people do, instead of taking off yet again alone once more...
Today, I feel empty yet again. The reverberations of my unsettled mind rattles my composure. Every so often, I feel that hard squeeze when I so allow a mere shadow of a memory disturb me. These days, I am better at controlling my thoughts. I stop fantasizing because I am always afraid where my imagination would lead me in my real life and the consequences thereafter. And then I stop having Hope...
On a quiet afternoon, I am unfocused and depressed once again. In the past, I sought refuge from my laptop, cyberspace and words. But for the past week, I am afraid and resilient to the liberal use of this device and entering the virtual world with my persona, P. Cold comfort, it was.
Now there is none. Busted, I was. My past spilled over to my current life. Being the man I have designated to be the love of my life, he knows or rather, senses me well. Except, it is all happening in my head, little could he empathise with. So one by one, my past caught up with me and so were the identities of the various individuals that has thematically summed up the shady contents of my cyber alleyway. Again, his magnimity from the intensity of his love for me found a good reason for forgiveness. I am spared. I am grateful. I am numb.
*****
I remember a time when I so wanted to end my life.
I was numb too.
Good news is I have no desire to end my life now. A different numbness I feel.
Just immune to bareness. Fully exposed in full view.
What fun is there in hide and seek?
*****
I have always been for the destination growing up. Always wanting to getaway from a moment in time. Always feeling trapped and the need to move on to something else.
Impatient I am.
Always waiting for a reaction or to test a reaction. Or observe the different possible permutations and combinations of outcomes of how an action in Situation A could possibly result in Outcome B, C, D or more.
Curious I am.
I find that for a long time I have used my own life as one big social experimentation. A big part of the events and my experiences have been a result of my insatiable fixation on perfection and so unwittingly I try to search for answers and perhaps questions only meaningful to myself. Except what exactly is it that is meaningful?
“Dysthymia” is a new found word I learnt recently. Somehow I think this is the answer to my quest for it.
****
Recently, in my sad, sad state lying in bed post a major meltdown with DL, I started to experience in my mind technicolour visions of fashion creations.
A week and a half ago.
Now I better take out my visual diary and start sketching.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Picture
There is a picture that I like to examine closely every so often. I want to make sure I haven't missed out anything that I already knew and felt from his face, the familiar creases or lines at the corners of his eyes, his nose and chubby cheeks whenever he smiles.
It is a picture of him and me. The setting was Hard Rock Cafe.
I only have two photos of us- one where we both smiled beautifully and another with him making a crossed-eyed-with-tongue-stuck-out face. I remember getting irritated and chided him to smile properly into the camera phone. I wanted a picture of us for memory's sake. I knew our romantic bliss was short-lived and I was in love with him already...
I possess very little photos because I cannot be bothered to take pictures. But these precious two pictures, I keep them close to my heart.
There is a picture that I like to examine closely every so often. I want to make sure I haven't missed out anything that I already knew and felt from his face, the familiar creases or lines at the corners of his eyes, his nose and chubby cheeks whenever he smiles.
It is a picture of him and me. The setting was Hard Rock Cafe.
I only have two photos of us- one where we both smiled beautifully and another with him making a crossed-eyed-with-tongue-stuck-out face. I remember getting irritated and chided him to smile properly into the camera phone. I wanted a picture of us for memory's sake. I knew our romantic bliss was short-lived and I was in love with him already...
I possess very little photos because I cannot be bothered to take pictures. But these precious two pictures, I keep them close to my heart.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Highway Action
So he was driving me home, post The Balcony. He mumbled he so wanted to take me back to his new apartment where we were before. But he couldn't. It was 3 am. He had to be back at work at 7.30am, prior to the opening of the financial markets, what with the economic turbulence and mergers happening at that time. He is an important man at the bank.
I wasn't ready to go home. I needed to tire myself lest my angst and pain arise in the dead of the night. I couldn't handle myself and my thoughts. I needed this distraction.
“Yes baby, let's go back to your apartment then,” I whined and reached over to stroke his dick as he drove.
“No, I can't, baby,” he whispered all hot and bothered.
I was ready to give him the time of his life and suck the life out of him if he detoured back to his apartment.
Anything to forget the Old Boy.
Fate has it that Big M was not completely letting his head down south rule his head up north. He was driving us homeward. Despite my cock teasing and all, Big M in his aroused and breathless state was determined to steer in the right direction.
However, to appease my kitty cat pleas, he reached over me with his left hand and deftly slide his hands under my dress. His finger wiggled its way into my feminine passageway from the right leg hole of my panties. Big M began stroking and teasing my pussy. It was his turn to part appease and part get back at me.
Wet and all hot and bothered, Big M inserted two of his fingers to my wet sex and started teasing it. His right hand was steering the wheel whilst his left hand was maneuvering the beat of my breath through his carnal stimulation. I was becoming excited and was moaning lightly. We were now on the highway.
Big M tried to keep his focus on the road but at quick intervals, he turned his head to watch the pleasures of my expressions. I spreaded my legs wider for a deeper penetration of his fingers. Big M was thrilled. He lifted up my dress to get a better view. We had cars passing us by and a truck in front of us. The fever of my excitement raced up a few notches (as some of you would remember my secret fetish for a voyeuristic stranger audience).
In addition, I was getting turned on by the adeptness of his hands. I like men who could multi-task and I wasn't expecting that from a rotund man like him. He was far from clumsy and was smooth. Big M had both the mental and physical dexterity and at this stage, I was so lost in lust.
I was going breathless from the peaking pleasures of his finger arousal. I tried to reach for his dick to return him the favour whilst I begged him to get us back to his penthouse pronto.
“I can't baby, I can't...” He whispered, his face flushed with excitement and lasciviousness.
At different intervals, Big M screwed his finger deeper into the wet mysterious passage of my sex. I took in deep breaths before I released the tension and felt the flow of my love juices gushing out multiple times. I was climaxing to the point of no return. I hadn't been pleasured properly since the Old Boy in early March. It was late July at that stage. With loads of unspent energy, the secretion of my female ejaculation seemed to go on forever and ever. Big M was elated.
We finally reached my house. I was getting ready to get out of the car. Big M pulled me back.
“It's my turn to be pleasured now...”
Really, I wanted to go home. I didn't want to be caught by my neigbours outside my house giving a fat, married white man a head or hand job. The consequences would have been unthinkable.
Big M was getting breathless like a salivating bulldog and had pulled my hand to his dick whilst he undid the button and zip of his bermudas. He helped to expedite the process by freeing his manhood that was all ready to do a jack-in-the-box out of his checked boxers.
Big M tried to guide my back downwards to initiate me giving him a blow job. I was slightly resistant, given that I was worried about my own reputation in the neighbourhood and a big part of me was still too emotionally attached to the Old Boy. I couldn't get over my own psychological barrier (even till this day for some reason) I know when I have to perform the real act. Instead, I took control of the situation and decided to give him the time of the day by wanking the hell out of him.
As usual, Big M was moaning with pleasure as he soon became breathless. I was almost getting concerned that his life might well be at my mercy where he could potentially suffer a cardiac arrest at each movement of my hand. He was lost to the point of no return. I quickened my movement as I felt the tension of his body and I knew he was cumming. He alternated his begging between slowing the pleasure and not stopping what I was doing. With my own instincts, I jerked the life out of him to anticipate his explosion.
The climax finally built up to its peak. The next thing that happened, Big M ejaculated, his cum shooting all over my hand and his boxers. Big M was a happy man once more. Two cums within three hours. He should be feeling lucky.
I got the tissues out for us to wipe and freshen ourselves.
Then I heard a ringing tone.
“What's that?” I asked.
Big M scrambled around to find his mobile phone fallen out from his pocket whilst we were in our merry making. It was lodged in a caveat near his driver's seat. He had a hard time extracting it. When he finally got hold of the phone, the ringing stopped.
“It's my wife.”
“Oh, I thought she wasn't in town.”
Such audacity, I thought to myself.
Then, Big M lived no more than a two minutes' drive from my house.
So he was driving me home, post The Balcony. He mumbled he so wanted to take me back to his new apartment where we were before. But he couldn't. It was 3 am. He had to be back at work at 7.30am, prior to the opening of the financial markets, what with the economic turbulence and mergers happening at that time. He is an important man at the bank.
I wasn't ready to go home. I needed to tire myself lest my angst and pain arise in the dead of the night. I couldn't handle myself and my thoughts. I needed this distraction.
“Yes baby, let's go back to your apartment then,” I whined and reached over to stroke his dick as he drove.
“No, I can't, baby,” he whispered all hot and bothered.
I was ready to give him the time of his life and suck the life out of him if he detoured back to his apartment.
Anything to forget the Old Boy.
Fate has it that Big M was not completely letting his head down south rule his head up north. He was driving us homeward. Despite my cock teasing and all, Big M in his aroused and breathless state was determined to steer in the right direction.
However, to appease my kitty cat pleas, he reached over me with his left hand and deftly slide his hands under my dress. His finger wiggled its way into my feminine passageway from the right leg hole of my panties. Big M began stroking and teasing my pussy. It was his turn to part appease and part get back at me.
Wet and all hot and bothered, Big M inserted two of his fingers to my wet sex and started teasing it. His right hand was steering the wheel whilst his left hand was maneuvering the beat of my breath through his carnal stimulation. I was becoming excited and was moaning lightly. We were now on the highway.
Big M tried to keep his focus on the road but at quick intervals, he turned his head to watch the pleasures of my expressions. I spreaded my legs wider for a deeper penetration of his fingers. Big M was thrilled. He lifted up my dress to get a better view. We had cars passing us by and a truck in front of us. The fever of my excitement raced up a few notches (as some of you would remember my secret fetish for a voyeuristic stranger audience).
In addition, I was getting turned on by the adeptness of his hands. I like men who could multi-task and I wasn't expecting that from a rotund man like him. He was far from clumsy and was smooth. Big M had both the mental and physical dexterity and at this stage, I was so lost in lust.
I was going breathless from the peaking pleasures of his finger arousal. I tried to reach for his dick to return him the favour whilst I begged him to get us back to his penthouse pronto.
“I can't baby, I can't...” He whispered, his face flushed with excitement and lasciviousness.
At different intervals, Big M screwed his finger deeper into the wet mysterious passage of my sex. I took in deep breaths before I released the tension and felt the flow of my love juices gushing out multiple times. I was climaxing to the point of no return. I hadn't been pleasured properly since the Old Boy in early March. It was late July at that stage. With loads of unspent energy, the secretion of my female ejaculation seemed to go on forever and ever. Big M was elated.
We finally reached my house. I was getting ready to get out of the car. Big M pulled me back.
“It's my turn to be pleasured now...”
Really, I wanted to go home. I didn't want to be caught by my neigbours outside my house giving a fat, married white man a head or hand job. The consequences would have been unthinkable.
Big M was getting breathless like a salivating bulldog and had pulled my hand to his dick whilst he undid the button and zip of his bermudas. He helped to expedite the process by freeing his manhood that was all ready to do a jack-in-the-box out of his checked boxers.
Big M tried to guide my back downwards to initiate me giving him a blow job. I was slightly resistant, given that I was worried about my own reputation in the neighbourhood and a big part of me was still too emotionally attached to the Old Boy. I couldn't get over my own psychological barrier (even till this day for some reason) I know when I have to perform the real act. Instead, I took control of the situation and decided to give him the time of the day by wanking the hell out of him.
As usual, Big M was moaning with pleasure as he soon became breathless. I was almost getting concerned that his life might well be at my mercy where he could potentially suffer a cardiac arrest at each movement of my hand. He was lost to the point of no return. I quickened my movement as I felt the tension of his body and I knew he was cumming. He alternated his begging between slowing the pleasure and not stopping what I was doing. With my own instincts, I jerked the life out of him to anticipate his explosion.
The climax finally built up to its peak. The next thing that happened, Big M ejaculated, his cum shooting all over my hand and his boxers. Big M was a happy man once more. Two cums within three hours. He should be feeling lucky.
I got the tissues out for us to wipe and freshen ourselves.
Then I heard a ringing tone.
“What's that?” I asked.
Big M scrambled around to find his mobile phone fallen out from his pocket whilst we were in our merry making. It was lodged in a caveat near his driver's seat. He had a hard time extracting it. When he finally got hold of the phone, the ringing stopped.
“It's my wife.”
“Oh, I thought she wasn't in town.”
Such audacity, I thought to myself.
Then, Big M lived no more than a two minutes' drive from my house.
Present
I finally got my long overdue birthday present from Nano in the mail last Saturday night. DL and I just got back from Brisbane for a business trip. He picked up a padded envelope from the mailbox.
A strand of fat pearl necklace and matching earrings. Lovely!
I finally got my long overdue birthday present from Nano in the mail last Saturday night. DL and I just got back from Brisbane for a business trip. He picked up a padded envelope from the mailbox.
A strand of fat pearl necklace and matching earrings. Lovely!
Heat
Lately, I have been angry and then I have been sexed up.
This morning, I laid in bed thinking of all the men I could have and have fucked. Suddenly, I wanted all of them Fuck the life out of each one and myself.
I was tossing my mind between the super well endowed young and handsome M and the rotund and lecherous Big M. My mind veered slightly towards Big M, sugar daddy figure. I am developing quite a fetish myself for him and the prospect of skinny dipping in his pool at his penthouse is turning my mind on. Plus he is propositioning.
Maybe its just the time of the month. I am like a dog in heat with no morals. Doesn't help that I am a bored housewife with no sex. Damn, I need to get back on track! I was doing so fine until now!!!! Grrrrghhhh...
Lately, I have been angry and then I have been sexed up.
This morning, I laid in bed thinking of all the men I could have and have fucked. Suddenly, I wanted all of them Fuck the life out of each one and myself.
I was tossing my mind between the super well endowed young and handsome M and the rotund and lecherous Big M. My mind veered slightly towards Big M, sugar daddy figure. I am developing quite a fetish myself for him and the prospect of skinny dipping in his pool at his penthouse is turning my mind on. Plus he is propositioning.
Maybe its just the time of the month. I am like a dog in heat with no morals. Doesn't help that I am a bored housewife with no sex. Damn, I need to get back on track! I was doing so fine until now!!!! Grrrrghhhh...
"Erotic" Sighting
Two days ago, I was taking the Fluffball for her afternoon walk in the field across our house. From afar, I saw three schoolboys aged no more than thirteen or fourteen. They had probably taken a sickie from PE whilst the rest of their schoolmates played rugby on the field.
I first noticed one of the boys facing my direction with his hand in his trousers, seemingly groping at his private part. When his hand surfaced from the trousers, he made a gesture to his friends, suggesting the estimation of his dick length. He saw me staring at him underneath my cap but made no attempts at becoming modest. Then one by one, I saw the two other boys doing the same and then producing similar gestures of dick guesstimations.
I suspected they were trying to compete with one another the size of their manhood. At this stage, the three of them turned their back towards me and started to insert their hands back to their own respective trousers and was wanking themselves to tease their cocks to full bloom.
It was an amusing sight. Part erotic for me too as a voyeur. I thought to myself, wait till they start indulging in the real pleasures of the flesh. Long time to come.
But then who knows, my once beloved M first lost his virginity at age 14 to a sixteen year old on a trip to Argentina...
Two days ago, I was taking the Fluffball for her afternoon walk in the field across our house. From afar, I saw three schoolboys aged no more than thirteen or fourteen. They had probably taken a sickie from PE whilst the rest of their schoolmates played rugby on the field.
I first noticed one of the boys facing my direction with his hand in his trousers, seemingly groping at his private part. When his hand surfaced from the trousers, he made a gesture to his friends, suggesting the estimation of his dick length. He saw me staring at him underneath my cap but made no attempts at becoming modest. Then one by one, I saw the two other boys doing the same and then producing similar gestures of dick guesstimations.
I suspected they were trying to compete with one another the size of their manhood. At this stage, the three of them turned their back towards me and started to insert their hands back to their own respective trousers and was wanking themselves to tease their cocks to full bloom.
It was an amusing sight. Part erotic for me too as a voyeur. I thought to myself, wait till they start indulging in the real pleasures of the flesh. Long time to come.
But then who knows, my once beloved M first lost his virginity at age 14 to a sixteen year old on a trip to Argentina...
