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LOVE AND PUSSY
One day you're horny; the next day you're dreading pussy.
Especially when you just had one.
A fishy one, that is.
Whorist.com wasn't lying. You can't trust pussy you get
off the streets. No, not in Cebu. Cubao, yes. But not
in Cebu.
It was sheer bad luck, I suppose. It was 2 in the morning
and I just got back to my hotel room from a night in a
comedy bar, which wasn't too bad, considering that the
comedian in a dress spoke Cebuano althrough out and I
still found myself laughing my guts off. It's a macho,
Pinoy guy thing I guess, that loud homosexuals are funny
by default (of course, it's just me), no matter what they're
saying or doing.
Anyhow, I had a couple of beers with my Cebuana friend
Rory and two of her friends, Rissa and Helen (not their
real names… but who cares, anyways?). While Rory,
being an old friend kept checking if I was OK, and Rissa,
being beside me and while not being at all boring kept
orienting me with interesting facts about Cebu, it was
Helen who caught my eye. No, both of them. Caught them
so good, they hurt.
I should be listing her qualities now. How she looks
like. How smooth her skin is. How wonderful she smelled
like. How she made me feel welcome with her smile. How
her quirks made her more perfect than she actually was.
How her body flows like the slow meander of the deepest
river. All that shit. It's the next logical thing, after
I practically introed her as a potential bembang.com girl.
You see, girls like that are what make me what I am.
They're the type that makes artists. The type that starts
wars. The type that makes men boys. The type that reverses
the status quo in sexual domination.
In my case, the type that makes me get whores instead.
And that's exactly what I did.
Like moments spur, the moment I got my feet out of my
shoes I put them in again, headed straight for the elevator,
and squinted my eyes in a predatory pursuit. Luckily for
me I didn't need to be, as the little Cebuanas for rent
proved to be more predatory. I swiftly picked my candy
and pulled her up the tenth floor.
I impatiently waited for her to finish setting-up: getting
naked, showering, all that shit. When she finished I laid
down on my back and let her get on top of me. She was
having a bit of trouble, uh, getting it in, I turned her
over and decided to play with her a little bit.
So I went over her sixty-nine and spread her legs, to
get her beaver in full view, and suddenly the fish market
opened early.
No, worse. It was so bad that only decency kept me from
throwing her out. Decency and hormones. Yes, it's possible.
I had to come. I had to come.
And I had to do it with minimal air movement. I laid
her on her chest, with me on top of her, my chest flat
on her back. Luckily, I'm endowed enough to enjoy that.
She was quite cooperative to actually derive pleasure
from business. I came fantastically.
I brushed aside decency and called it propriety. In other
words, I didn't tip her. Not a cent. Not even if she's
charming me to the last minute. Not with her two-day old
sashimi.
Later that night, I taught my little Pedrito what "hygene"
means.
The next day, I got up early before my clock went off,
washed up and went down for breakfast. Pretty ordinary
day, I thought. Gloomier than yesterday, but pretty ordinary.
A group of rather noisy Korean guests had just arrived,
and they're a bit ruining my breakfast.
So I grab a newspaper from the front desk and went back
to my room. While in the elevator, my heart skipped a
moment and I thought, "Helen".
Truth be told, I couldn't stop thinking about her the
entire day.
Disturbing, I thought, and although I have had experiences
like this one, it never ceases to amaze me how jacking
off can make you feel so in love with a person. How suddenly,
once you let off your juice makes you like a person as
purely as you can. How suddenly, you're in love.
At this stage, you don't think about pussy. Oh, no. You
don't think about getting laid. You actually despise pussy
for a while (especially after a bad one). You think about
being with her. Being there for her. Comforting her. Setting
her at ease. Curing her grief. Taking care of her. You
know… family, children, your future…all that
shit.
But, hey, since I'm a guy, so I just jack this thing
off. So I lay on my back and bring Helen down from her
pedestal in my mind to the flesh arena. God she's good
when she's on top.
It's nice being a guy. Things can be so… uncomplicated.
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Article written by: Inigo Mortel
Send your comments to: inigo@bembang.com
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