Assumptionista

I woke up with a head splitting headache.

A dim stream of light emanating from the lamppost contaminated my dark bedroom. Faint laughs of familiar voices violated my warm yet silent ambiance.

I closed my eyes again willing my mind and body to sleep.

I was neither tired nor restless. In fact, I have been in deep slumber all day.

I don’t wanna wake up.

Because waking up meant dealing with reality. A battle that I’m not sure would go my way.

After a while, I can no longer suspend it. With a soft sigh and a firm curse, I grabbed my pack of cigarette on my side table, lighted a stick while walking to the open window just in time for me to offer the rich nicotine-rich smoke to the night.

I started smoking again not because “he” does too. I smoking again during the time I met him was just a coincidence.

I peeped outside trying to keep myself busy. Trying to keep myself from not being idle but with each drag of smoke, my mind, which I try so hard to contain, wandered.

And treaded dangerous waters.

I desperately shook it off my mind by lighting another stick but to no avail.

I look back at my side table. Even in the darkness I can see my phones neatly placed right on it silently lying to each other side by side.

Silent.

They were silent the whole day. Not even a ring.

I’m a deep sleeper but when it comes to my phone I always get up and answer it. But still, I entertained the fact that maybe it did ring it’s just that it didn’t wake me up.

I hoped. That’s all I can do these days.

With a last puff, I dragged my feet slowly towards the table trying to delay the inevitable.

I grabbed the one in the middle, cradled it in my hand and pressed the home button.

“0” new message. “0” missed calls.

Same goes for my other two.

Acrid bile filled my mouth. It’s metallic taste adding more bitterness to my depression.

I hate it when I’m alone and depressed. It makes me think and analyze things.

And then assume.

And then analyze again.

Not knowing what he thinks or feels make me just believe on what I assume. And to a person who overanalyzes things. It’s a nightmare.

Fifteen minutes later I’m in my neighbour’s house drinking... trying to fill up the emptiness and the void left in me. 5 hours later, I’m drunk but still thinking... analyzing.

Back in my room, I’m lying on my bed, staring at my silver ceiling. The rays of the morning sun reflecting its shine on it, trying to comprehend his sudden coldness.

I can bear it no longer. I gave in.

I took my phone and composed a message. In my attempt to pour out my emotions, I sent this.

Good Morning

I woke in the early dawn to the sound of the wind rustling in my open window and heavy rain beating the roof like a drum line.

I stretched slowly, and felt my leg slide against yours. I always loved how smooth your legs are. 

Warm and comfortable, I turned to look at you, watching you lying in my bed peacefully. 

I can see the gray sky through the window... monsoon clouds still crying hard. 

You had that secret, satisfied look when you sleep, the one that always makes me wonder what you are dreaming about, hoping that it's me. 

Hoping that it is me. 

You're so beautiful lying there that I don't want to wake you yet. So I gently ease back the covers, thinking I'll just look at you. 

You lay there, on your back, exposed in the gloomy morning light and I can't believe how lucky I am to be with you. 

I can't help wanting to touch you so I lean over and trace my finger along your shoulder. I lightly wrote the same 3 words I always do before we sleep.

You stir, not waking, and ease over on your side, facing me. 

I sense you waking as you run your hands through my shoulder down to my hand. 

I can feel your manhood slowly throb and I then realized what you are up to.

You know I want you but you don't know how much. 

...and then you pull my hand to your pole. 

I went down to your cock and took you deep into my mouth as I grabbed your balls. 

I want to have you everyday but I never wanted to force myself or push what I wanted to you.

It matters to me more when I know that you want me too.

I hope you do.

I eased off on your cock and started licking your nuts, letting them slide on my checks, nestling on each side of my nose as I work them with my tongue. 

You moaned softly. I know you love this.

I went back to your pole and I grasp it with both hands, stroking it, watching my palms go up and down, your hard manhood sliding in and out. 

I looked at your face. You smiled.

And I melt inside. 

You arch up, and spread a little, it's a dance we've done many times.

Your cock is now standing tall, 

I can't believe this, how every time is like the first and how lucky I am to be with you. 

I reached up and squeezed your tit hard as I wrapped my lips around your throbbing member. 

You grabbed my head and pushed me in hard burying your pole deeper in my mouth. I choked but I didn't care.

You shoot deep inside my mouth. I can feel your rod pulsing as massive spurts of your warm juice filled my mouth. 

I swallowed... for many reasons.

One of which is the fact that I want you. 

I lay in your arms, melting in you and we lay there in the glow of each other, not even thinking of moving, not for a while, anyway. 

We have each other. 

Or at least I know for that moment, I have you.

And you’re all that I need.

Future Boyfriend

I was getting really bored playing Cityville, Zooworld and Zynga Poker via Facebook and getting really horny when I decided to stop building my own real estate empire ala Zobel de Ayala for a while in exchange for selling my soul to the devil and satisfy my thirst for hot and steamy night games.

I haven’t open my “PR” account for more than a year so I was surprised when I found out that my sinful account is still active and screaming for attention.

Getting a serious date from a gay social website, were the main goal is to fornicate (in all essence of the word) was never my intention. After all, what could be more fun than having a no strings attached fuck-o-rama with a guy or two?

And since I recently found myself single and ready to fucking mingle, I have decided that I am exercising my God given gay right to bonk as many guy as possible.

So there I was, browsing over the list of hot and not so hot men who is both near my area and currently online when his profile shout-out caught my attention.

It reads: “Wrong love, right time. Right love, wrong time.”

I looked at the picture and he got my little soldier tingling.

Boy was he cute! He looked like a member of a Korean boyband... my kind of boy toy.

It was even more surprising when he sent me a message.

 “Hi. Thanks for viewing my profile =)” It said.

I then realized that he can actually check the people who viewed his profile. What more can I do but replied back.?

“=) You got me interested with your profile shout-out.”

And then I don’t know what hit me that I sent another text message before he replied on the first one.

“Wanna hang out later?”

-----------------
5 hours later, I’m at SM Valenzuela picking him up. It was raining hard so we decided to just spend the night drinking at a nearby comedy bar.

We got to know each other. And after just 30 minutes with him, I knew we had a connection.

I admit, I enjoyed his company. He's intelligence was just as impressive as his KPop persona. We were talking about a lot of things and he kept my mind off of "some" things. That night it was just me and him. and I'm happy that it was.

I can spend the whole day just by looking at his eyes. I get lost when I watch his smile. I can waste forever and just hug him for all eternity… or at least I think I can.

Needless to say, I like him.

I was already half drunk and busy oogling at him when I heard the comedian-slash-comedienne shout out his name. His eyes shouted suprise as he went in front and up the stage reeled by the host-slash-hostess.

“Who are you with?”

“I’m with Sylvan” He answered.

“Who is he?”

“My future boyfriend.” He declared with a grin that reduced his Korean eyes to a slit.

Future Boyfriend. That’s me to him.

I said to myself, with schizophrenic caution, this is fast and I mean supersonic fast.

Sure I’m having a blast and I can feel we had a connection not to mention that we held hands the whole night stealing kisses here and there. But I wasn’t expecting anything other than having a good time... in or out of the bed.

So up on the stage, he sang “Wherever you will go” by the Calling and Parokya ni Edgar’s “Halaga” for me.

And as I watch him belting the songs that he dedicated to me with his killer smile flashing directly at our table, I knew I am trudging an über dangerous road.

I know he is not Maviè.

He is someone else...

And just like what’s his profile said, I waited for the night to end, kiss him goodnight and went home sending him one last text message.