the issues...

I had a good sleep though I went to bed very late, four in the morning. While I was savoring the breakfast, I picked up my new book of Han Nolan which I bought on sale – as usual. The story started with the adventure of two lads in making a still to produce alcohol which they thought that would turn their chest hair into a carpet. My own frigging experience of puberty came into flash. Though I already entered the dawn of twenties, the “firsts” will always be fresh, vivid and will definitely make an LOL reminiscing time for me.

Here’s the flash back: The top 8 puberty issues (relationship excluded)




1. Chest hair: I really had a considerable problem on how would I make my chest hair to grow thicker. I even thought of applying Sabila extracts to do the trick. Seven years have transpired and luckily It dint bother me now.
2. Hair, hair, and more hair: The mustache and beard. The accessory hair that symbolizes manhood, the image of “balbasarado”. With my axillary hair, it was fun monitoring how it flourished my armpits that used to smell like baby, but now it smells like baby pa din,lol....
3. The bush under: to trim or to shave. My skin got sore after shaving it. Lesson learned – don’t bother that bush. It has a purpose.
4. Voice: whenever I would hear comments about how my voice turned husky, it never failed to boost my mature ego. Ehem, ehem, hear that?
5. The kiss: The first tutorial was with my own clenched hand, on the lateral area between the thumb and the index finger that looks like (in my eyes) a rugged lips. Lol. My imaginary lips to practice the amor of kissing. Got that idea from TV.
6. Keep my private work privately: The CR was the first witness of my first weakness. But I always had a problem on how to keep it noise-free and privately. I was caught by mum doing that thing, sheesh… I forgot to lock the door. Whatta shame. And I even broke a lavatory by doing that business.
7. The dream: When would I own a porn video? And that remained a dream.
8. The little man: With a scale chart for growth and development of my lil’ man.

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How about YOURS?

the concerns

I had a good sleep though I went to bed very late, four in the morning. While I was savoring the breakfast, I picked up my new book of Han Nolan which I bought on sale – as usual. The story starts with the adventure of two lads in making a still to produce alcohol which they thought that would turn their chest hair into a carpet. My own frigging experience of puberty came into flash. Though I already entered the dawn of twenties, the “firsts” will always be fresh, vivid and will definitely make an LOL reminiscing time for me.

Here’s the flash back: The top 8 puberty issues (relationship excluded)

1. Chest hair: I really had a considerable problem on how would I make my chest hair to grow thicker. I even thought of applying Sabila extracts to do the trick. Seven years have transpired and luckily It dint bother me now.
2. Hair, hair, and more hair: The mustache and beard. The accessory hair that symbolizes manhood, the image of “balbasarado”. With my axillary hair, it was fun monitoring how it flourished my armpits that used to smell like baby, but now it smells like deo- of course.
3. The bush under: to trim or to shave. My skin got sore after shaving it. Lesson learned – don’t bother that bush. It has a purpose.
4. Voice: whenever I would hear comments about how my voice turned husky, it never failed to boost my mature ego. Ehem, ehem, hear that?
5. The kiss: The first tutorial was with my own clenched hand, on the lateral area between the thumb and the index finger that looks like (in my eyes) a rugged lips. Lol. My imaginary lips to practice the amor of kissing. Got that idea from TV.
6. Keep my private work privately: The CR was the first witness of my first weakness. But I always had a problem on how to keep it noise-free and privately. I was caught by mum doing that thing, sheesh… I forgot to lock the door. Whatta shame. And I even broke a lavatory by doing that business.
7. The dream: When would I own a porn video? And that remained a dream.
8. The little man: With a scale chart for growth and development of my lil’ man.

Lust is calling me loudly

Warning: Obscene stuffing

Mushy! Mushy! Dammit. I just can’t get this fuck outta my mind. This fuck gives me a smile whenever the fuck beeps my remote communication.
And it’s me, the pathetic dreamer who dreams of that fuck falling in love with me, completing my incompleteness, filling my unfilled perfections, and heating up my coldness, my dormancy, and my virginity for the past year. Yeah, it’s impossible. I’m a jerk by thinking these thoughts.

The hell, the move is moving slowly, the beat is beating thinly, but the lust is lustier than ever. Thinking about the possibilities and the impulsivity of presumptuous things direct me to a load of expectations. When is that fuck going to like me? Not my completely rotten personality, that’s impossible to happen, but at least just with the thought of liking to get laid with me. When is when? How soon is soon? How will fantasy meet with reality? As the pain of longing sets in, the pleasure gets in more intensely. And the more I think of all the possibilities, the more it’s becoming a voodoo in my thought. But I damn take a pleasure from it, to inflict pain in my own sense. The bliss of the flesh, making my life unusually aerated from unknown apprehension. The cunning flesh that is completely different from the fantasy of making love, making complications in life. Think of a chemist who mixes different chemicals, a dose of water and bicarbonate to yield to a computed composition of certain acids. Or go to your kitchen and prepare a meal, lets say beef stew. It takes a minute to pig it out but damn lengthy time of mixing the ingredients, tasting and serving. But try the instant stew; it takes minutes to prepare it but then same fullness and heat on your tummy. That’s how spontaneous flesh bliss is, no need for loyalty, untiring understanding, boundary, honesty, and other mushy things. It’s instant, spontaneous…No strap on your neck…No dog tag…No commitment.

That’s why sometimes I just wanna ask the fuck to get dirty with me, but the fuck I wouldn’t do that…because I am fuck.

Sultry Glances

It was past midnight and the ambiance was cozy and reserved, reserved for something sultry things to happen. Everything was set up, the jazz music airing in the hushed midnight scene like a moonlight sonata, plus the left over foods fresh from the fridge. There was only one thing missing, a pot of coffee. The sound of my whopping mug was breaking the silence as it hits the plates on the dish organizer. Then a heard someone on flight down the stairs. I looked around and saw the pinkish feet brushing each of the staircase bit by bit then the gradual presentation of the shiny legs and finally the ceramic skin of the thighs as the light bulb on the sidewall underscoring the lovely scene. I got thirst with that scene and I didn’t notice that she’s already in front of me.
“Sunny magiinit lang ako ng tubig”, she said as if she was whispering to me.
“ I’ll do it, magkakape rin ako eh, want a cup?”, my jumpy reply. Of course, I hid the tension at the back of my head.
“inde ako makatulog eh, warm milk saken” she said.
I boiled the water. Her green lil mug was on the table with some scoops of milk. When the water came to boil, I went to her at table holding the pot of boiling water.
“ako na magsasalin” she said while looking into my eyes.
“ako na,” my reply while holding her stare at me. She broke the stillness of our stare by turning her look at her mug. Then I put some water into my mug too. I would like to start a conversation with her but she turned her head down and frowned while she was holding her phone and moving her index finger on the keypads. All right, she’s busy sending a text message. I sat on the couch, of course on the site where in I could have sultry glances on her desirable body. She’s sexy with her orange shorts decked out with hibiscus prints and her tight fitting spaghetti strap tops, just like a camisole. My blood was boiling at that time. But the crap after three or five sips of her milk, she bid goodbye and went up to her room. What has left with me was the memory I that gathered through my sultry glances.

Just for LustFFs: the cooking oil experience "draft"

It was roughly midnight and all of my company were already half-dead in their consciousness. I went out and took a walk around the veranda of my filthy flat. My whole day was shitty, i flunked at one of my exams and had a clash with my friend about our thesis proposal title. So bad! I took a deep breath and slid my hand into my pocket to get some dime for my daily dose of nicotine but damn my pocket was empty. But I kept on moving my hand inside my pocket hoping for some dimes hiding on it. Then a sensitive gland was stimulated and i got pretty aroused for i was wearing boxers only and my "manoy" was freely hanging, swinging and banging inside. I immediately went to my room and started jerking but in the middle of my cockin' business i got bored, damn! I looked for my KY jelly (from OPD,OB dept) but i was out of stock so i just searched for the baby oil. I was searching bare naked, running around the house but i couldn't find it. Whoaa! The Eisntien's bulb lit up and i figured out the perfect alternative. I went to the kitchen and snatched the one liter bottle of Minola cooking oil. "this is perfect" told to myself grinning. My blood was rushing unstoppable into my full-kickin' manoy while my mind was on the creative lust operation. Perfect oil, perfect minola oil!When I was about to come*,i heard the screech of the door.Shit! In a wink, my aunt was in my face clearing her eyes. As a reflex act i grabbed the "tabo" on the sink, covered my manoy and run out of the kitchen swiftly as if I was in chase by wolf packs. While i was on my shame escape i could see that my aunt's face was petrified, that's a shit! Haiz! I lost my sexual appetite and slept with "palusot numbers" running through my head. The next day, i got up very early, prepared myself, escaped breakfast, and rushed to school. Luckily my aunt was just visiting, the time i got home from school she was gone already . "sighed"!


Morale: don't use cooking oil for your filthy "cocking" business.