Forty
One
I
thought he was in his mid-twenty’s to early thirty’s at most. I saw his
picture through his friendster account and he looked okay and that he has a
chest mass to boast for. But that wasn’t why I messaged him the night
after we chatted over MIRC. It was because he was a webmaster with extensive
knowledge on web design and web graphics. That was only my purpose: to learn
more from him.
Yes, I did consider sleeping with him and that I am open to a
romantic relationship with him if ever so he would be so incline to… and I
think he was… well, I looked damn good in the picture! (Got him fooled!)
So, I messaged him and that he asked for my landline number, which I gave
him. We talked… at first he gave me the impression that he wanted to do
phone sex… and if you have been following my stories, you would know that
I don’t do phone sex!
That was Tuesday night. After which, he called again the next
afternoon, then again at night. The talks were more of getting to know each
other talk. He asked a lot of things about me. I asked a few back… and
from the things he learned about me (from me) he started liking me so
much… and I… don’t you feel good knowing you were liked?
He wanted to meet. I thought why not and we agreed on Saturday. The
thing was yesterday, I was bored and that my body was yearning for something
exciting—not necessarily shagging with a twenty-seven years old (he said
he was) muscle man who I don’t really know but what other choices do I
have? Actually, I wasn’t expecting we could shag since we really don’t
have a place to do it in—he still lives with his parents. I messaged him
if I could come over. He said yes. So, I went…
When
we were talking on the phone, he asked me how many boyfriends have I had? I
said I never had. He finds that hard to believe but it was the truth: I
never had a real boyfriend. (Erchel? We only talked on the phone. Carlo? I
think he was just really on it for sex and maybe he wanted us to be more of
a fuck buddy but that was mainly because he thought I was there—I
assume—and would have not considered if there were others.) He thought
that if that was true, there must be really something wrong with me… I
thought so too and that I am inclined to believe it was because I really
don’t look good. He said he doesn’t think so… there are other less
attractive people who gets boyfriend. I find it more comforting to believe
it was because I really look shit than having some psychological problem as
the reason why I never had a boyfriend yet…?
Hmmm…
When
he saw me, he started to wonder more… He said I may not be all that but I
don’t look bad at all. I thought he was just saying so because he was
horny and that he wanted to shag me. I told him so… He denied it but
admitted that he was indeed horny.
He
admitted that he was forty-one years old already. I would have no problem
with it, specially that he doesn’t look like it and that he has a strong
body but then… my mom is forty-five—she had me when she was twenty or
younger (she graduated from high school seventy-seven, I assumed that meant
she was sixteen on seventy-seven and had me two years later but in my birth
certificate, her age was twenty) and I’m twenty-five. Then, I thought he
was already 16 when I was born and that… It felt weird, almost creepy!
He
doesn’t smoke. And he smelled that I was and that he wasn’t so please
about it. He told me so. He wanted me to quit it. I said I plan to (I am not
promising anything but I do plan to). He insist… and went to the extent of
saying, while he had me on an embrace, “nasusuka ako…” I don’t know
but that ticked me. I do know that the smell of cigarette could really
linger—the very reason why I wanted to quit it—but I don’t think I
needed to hear that. So I thought, he doesn’t have to suffer. I moved out
of his embrace and started walking. Without a word, I just left.
I
thought he wasn’t to follow me. I guess he doesn’t really want to but
then he was so horny… He caught up to me four blocks away. He asked me
what’s my problem. I thought my problem is my problem and didn’t answer.
He told me that everybody in their house was asleep already and that we
could sneak up his room. I went with him.
I’m
not enraged. I’m not taking offense… okay a little… But it was more
of: I smoke. I know it’s a nasty habit. I’m smart enough to know the
harmful effect of smoking both in health and aesthetically. And I want to
really quit. But for a while, this is me: I smoke. If you are to love me,
love me as a whole. Not just this and that. You have to accept me as a
whole. If I sicken you, I am not forcing myself unto you. I’d go away.
In
his room, I didn’t move toward him… If he wanted me, he would have to
come to me. He did, kiss me… I let him but I didn’t kiss back. I wanted
him to show me he wanted me. I wanted him to beg for it… and when he did
by swirling his tongue all over my body… swallowing me whole… I fucked
him. I fucked him hard. I fucked him until he was squirming… wanting to
push me away but had no power to do so… wanting more… It was driving him
mad.
I never fucked anyone the way I fucked him.
I must say there is no better aphrodisiac than hate.
He
was resting in the bed, on his back. I was seated at his side. We were both
motionless. He noticed… He tried to pull me to him to lay next to him. I
didn't want to. He tried again, still I didn’t. He let me be and we were
back to being motionless. Then suddenly, a surge of emotion came to me…
Utterly different… mischief… naughty… I started laughing. I don’t
know why or what but I couldn’t help it. I was laughing. It startled him.
He asked me why. I shook my head to say nothing but still I can’t stop
laughing. He asked again what’s so funny. I really don’t know what’s
funny, so I just shook my head as I went on laughing. I just can’t help
laughing. It started to irritate him… but I really can’t help it. I
tried, I just can’t. I then told him that I better go already in between
chuckle. I really felt weird but still I can’t stop laughing even as I was
dressing up and until we were sneaking out of the house.
Once out of the house, he asked me again what’s so funny. I just
have to laugh again. I tried to stop laughing as I know he was starting to
think it was him I was laughing at. But the more I try to, the more that I
can’t help it. I was sort of high on something… I just left and not have
me walked to where I could get a ride, so not to further the insult he
was feeling.
January
28, 2005/Friday