Wednesday, September 21, 2011

another drama

It’s almost daybreak yet I haven’t been tossed with lethargy and my eyes are still glued with the windows of blue. The egghead is sailing towards the dramatic waves of the feeble inner self and nothings left to inscribe something appealing or just some plain facts, only the saga of own tragedy. I again faked my snooze to give rest to my baby whose tiredness was apparent on the other line. “Sigh”, I am sullen about the unfortunate events that happened in my life. It’s still my delight to have the Dr. before my name, not just the title but the nobleness of being one. It was a castle in the sky during my youth, but now it became more of a path of exodus. I plan to take the admission test this December but duh my stock knowledge in high school lessons had crashed years ago.Shucks! I need to wear sunscreen, I'm worrying much.  

Friday, September 9, 2011

thank you...

You made my day really wonderful. Thank you so much!

It's my most memorable birthday -the overnight cuddling and hugging...

Saturday, September 3, 2011

price tag

Only a couple of days now before I bear my struggles and denial of getting older again. Although I know that it’s just mind over matter, still I really get conscious in filling up forms that require the effin age. Whew, can I just leave it blank or write N/A?

And with all my narcissistic and egotistical worries, my baby is also getting stressed thinking about the most sentimental and unique gift idea for me, grins.

“Be, ano ba talaga gusto mo”
“I want surprises”

Aha, I know this made my bebe more hassled, grins again. Be, I understand that you also love surprises and really giddy to wow me in your most thoughtful way, kaya eto na oh, the category of exciting gifts according to $$$, BIG smile.

For free or inexpensive: 
  • A special invitation to a wild and sexy night with you in bed.
  • Special adobo, made by you
  • a book 

  • new jazz CD collection 
  • new watch
  • electric razor
  • GC from the spa 
  • running shoes, you know I’m picky with style and colors 

Expensive to very expensive:
  • trip to Palawan for 3D/2N
  • New lappy, you know how much I dislike the scratch on my lappy
  • The darjeeling limited trip

Too much of a wishful thinking, winks.

I know that we ain’t got extra dough to paint the town red each time we see each other, that’s three to four times a month, but with your sweetest smile and unconditional love, everything seems to be always perfect during our date, wag na kumontra. And It doesn’t need to be my burpday to have the PRICELESS gifts in this world, because every day I receive them from you, my sweet lovely baby. 

  • Your unconditional love AND you showing it every day.
  • A night of blissful talking and cuddling in each other's arms. 

I know that you really wanted to have our baby, but i don’t think that I can take care of him; you know how my work eats up my energy and time. Next time na lang si Charles ha, warf, warf. 

P.S. I wouldn’t mind being the “pika-corny” guy in the world reading a LOVE LETTER that begins with "Mahal Ko" and ends with "Hugs and Kisses". And of course it should be sealed with a Kiss. Pretty Please…. 

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Oh yes, feel so sexy

Life usually goes on with the dreary white. Sometimes it’s black and seldom the gray gray.

This monotony set in train during the decency of plains of growing up wherein white was the basic and the everyday for every lad. And until now, this invariable lifestyle is constant. Work requires matching up with the uniform because opacity is darn obvious. And anything that is eye-catching will always be a no, no for the oldies.

So life goes on very unexciting

“I want to break free because I feel so sexy”
I'm too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love
I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt
And I'm too sexy..."

Oh yes, I feel so damn sexy with the new undies that I bought last week. Oh yes, not the ordinary. Here’s my rugby brief. It is very comfortable with enough coverage and the design suggests an agile animal on bed. The brief itself talks big and sing praises for rough ride and fun. This kind of underwear is both of a style and comfort. It is made from 100% cotton and available in several colors. This isn’t the usual thing, but it makes me feel really good. I don’t care what the people may say, if other prefers the customary brief, boxers, or boxer brief, there is always a room for every kind of underwear. What matters the most is your inner feeling of happiness and sexiness. I also have the rainbow-colored knitted type and planning to buy the pocket sling, or the thong with elephant or angry bird cup. How exciting.

This kind of underwear would be my best get-up...

next to being nude - Of course!

Thursday, July 14, 2011

the incubator

An unknowing chick went inside an incubator to get a little comfort of heat and to strengthen his growing body. In a short time a hefty cock moved in to the incubator as well. The unknowing chick was pleased with the warmth of the place, wrapping himself only with a piece of supple fluffs. On the other hand, the hefty cock was a bit devious with his piercing eyes and sturdy guise. The unknowing chick remained unknowing, settling down with the hazy moisture inside the incubator until he noticed the uninviting moves of the hefty cock. The hefty cock was a little ill at ease. It started to outspread his useless wings, showing some parts of his hairless body and a spot of the bush. The piercing eyes gradually turned into a jester’s glowing goggles and a slight wrinkle appeared on the left cheek. The unknowing chick paid no attention at all. However, he became apprehensive, the pounding of his heart accelerated together with his increasing breaths. His thought was telling him to move out but was also considering that the hefty cock would settle down. The unknowing chick managed to stay calm and he turned on the poker-face. But the hefty cock became more irritable. The hefty cock made a big, silly smile and intensified his initial act with a little performance using his tough quill. He swayed his robust body with unfolded wings arrogantly as he tried to loom the unknowing presence of the unknowing chick. The hefty cock was unstoppable with his strong passion; he didn’t stop until he noticed that the unknowing chick stood up from his seat. The rage of the hefty cock was suddenly ended. And silence was broken with the thundering beats of the heart. The unknowing chick silently prepared himself to leave. But in a split second the hefty cock rapidly glided in front of the unknowing chick and muscularly grabbed his peach.

The hefty cock left the incubator with a claw covered with stain of condemned glory. And the unknowing chick went out in an outraged, but...

Friday, May 27, 2011

it lingers

Reunited and it feels so good
Reunited 'cause we understood
There's one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited 'cause we're reunited, hey, hey

It usually gives me a flash back, a back-to-the -future scene by means of my armpit time machine. Just with a little brush it brings back the old time of baby powder, Garfield, nenuco, and the hush-hush handshaking with the milkman inside the closet of a naive mind. But when stroking transcends to auto pit diving, the machine shambles and goes back and forth to various timelines -from hot summer hostage sausage up to the first simmering unbelievable work out and then the routine boxing with the bald champ. Oh it drives me crazy, just like a dose of ecstasy. Oh baby, do you like musky?

Hey, babe what can you say about my kili-kili?
Hmm…it’s way far better than coffee
What? What you mean by that?
“Giggles” It’s pampagising
So, it smells unusual? So it’s mabaho?
No, it’s not babe, it’s that not unusual, not that unpleasant, It’s not that mabaho
Come on’ , you’ve just said, it’s not that unpleasant, it’s still the same, mabaho! (galit-galitan, asking for more lambing)
Babe, I like it, it’s not like that…

Oh my armpits, the one that I adore much, and the odor that sways me to a different kind of libido. Deodorant is seldom being used and categorically the masculine scent by it is a no-no. Artificial muskiness is upsetting for once the real aroma releases, it fuses and thenceforth creates a strong stench, the putrid smell that prevents you from dancing all night and creating a sexual chemistry. Because nothing compares to the natural scent, I stick to the basic - wash, scrub, and cool outfits. I prefer it that way, my own aroma, the aftereffect of heat, sweat and the intensifying pheromones. That is why I usually do pit checking from time to time even in public places, just to take a dose of my obsession. I don’t care about what other people may say, I care much about my ecstasy.

nb.So babe, you like my kili-kili?
If you do, dive in, put your face in my well-trimmed kili-kili and then lick it, savor, and be aroused intensely.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

I’m not your papa

Don’t call my name, don’t call my name, I’m not your papa.

You're my Honeybunch, Sugarplum, Pumpy-umpy-umpkin. You're my Sweetie Pie. You're my Cuppycake, Gumdrop, Snoogums-Boogums, You're the Apple of my Eye

These are the terms of sweet nothings, the soft soap that brushes away the prickliness in life. But it’s also the endearment that set off an engagement in our statement, oh it perfectly rhymes.
You used to call me baby, just like a kid with a dirty nappy. Darling is uberly mushy that it makes you gag for I’m not the blue-eyed boy that you crave for. Sweetheart is no longer applicable because yours is already archaic and tangy. Babe has the context for you of the animal-in-the-city, and honey as you said is only for the bear with no undies. Love reminds you of your dad and his mistress making love in the attic. So you just decided to call me baby, again just like an aging man with a soiled nappy. Then one night, I was able to get in inside your closet and I found out that it was papa that you used to call your exes. I questioned myself on why I am just your baby? The absurd comparison brought about a serious conclusion; I am a baby just like an old man with a dirty nappy and your exes were the papa with great authority. They’re papa, papables that you couldn’t disagree. They’re papa, papables that you called yummy. Oh, I forgot isn’t papa because you had the theatrical production of mama and papa’s mission impossible? Pathetic me, I am the product of the composition, a baby with a dirty nappy out of the mama and papa awful love story.

So from now on, stick with baby and don’t ever try calling me papa.

 n.b. I hate papa just like the catsup that is made from banana, I prefer that is made from tomato, kahit bolero, masarap sa puso.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Bad Kiss

Because your kiss, your kiss is all that I miss...

Still couldn’t dismiss the kiss that night, the kiss that lingered throughout my day and still surfacing in some cold nights. Sometimes it gives pauses in my busy day. And there are moments that it plays vividly in my mind that I could almost hear it, feel it, and taste it so real. 

Sometimes it is good to be bad, because sometimes bad is really good. I think it also applies in kiss, there is good kiss and bad kiss. I asked a friend about it, and he just told me that it is not about the kiss itself, it is more of the kisser; therefore, for him it is good kisser and bad kisser. But based from my meandering experience, there is actually a bad kiss. Yes, it happened to me. Bad kiss is not something that is sloppy, a beginner or an idiot sucker. Bad kiss is neither the romantic kiss nor the squelchy brute kiss. It is not the licking of tongue, and not even the biting and shredding off your membrane. Bad kiss overshadows good kiss. It mounts above the romantic and wild. Because bad kiss is bad. And bad is not just good, it is heaven. A bad kiss is like the forbidden fruit. Thou shall not eat that fruit. Thou shall that execute that kiss. You should never commit bad kiss, because it will drive you crazy.

Bad kiss exists.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

fire dance

The room was filled with smoke, eyes were scowled with the orb flashing dirty look to the crowd. The Dj was ecstatic in the Olympus, playing the sensual seduction; while the gods were enticing the mortals. It was a shindig of flesh wherein every move compels impiety, a sort of luscious vulgarism.

Everyone’s dancing, feeling young with Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream, with eyes probing to possible prospect for final submission of offering. The god must be generous for I easily caught an eye to my lamb. There’s the gift, wildly scurrying in the savanna of vehement animals. The offering was neatly presented, and it was a bit tamed, restrained by some influence, and I guessed that supremacy was shared between us. And yes, I wasn’t wrong the repressed position was fueled with hunger. The offering looked into my eye, and I would want to slay it immediately with my greediness. As an impulse, I went to my offering’s corner. The lamb yanked on me in a harsh yet in suggestive style. I made up a choleric taste and apology was given by the offering. I took off my mask and I answered back with fondle on the lambs’ shoulder going down to the spine, and I whispered “It is okay” in a carnal way.

I went back to my tribe and danced with the smoke and dazzling lights. And after two to three songs, I was hit again on my back. I turned around and saw the offering with the sultry eyes. I wouldn’t want to waste any minute so moved in close to the offering. But the lamb transformed into ferocious beast. It grabbed my hands and bent my neck. It started to drain all my energy. I could see the crowds in euphoria, but the phase of our movements were getting dawdling as we got closer to each other. I could smell the desire, the call of lust. We started fondling each other in slacken kinesis. Then our kiss tailed along the beat of the music. It was heaven. The gods were indeed full of generosity; it filled the room with milk and honey.