Back, but not with a vengence.

Well, months later on, I realised I can't stop writing completely. 

Some updates:

(1) Left the previous company and my "cushy"well paying job, and I'm working on my own ventures in both Singapore and Thailand, meaning I shuttle between Singapore and Bangkok a lot these days.

(2) Still meeting up with the ladies (obviously), given a leopard can't change its spots. Only after I'd left the company, Liz and I split up, and the ladies in my life these days are more come and gos...though I'd still very much prefer longer-term FBs.

(3) I guess I'd still be blogging, only not as regularly as I used to. But I'd still be around. :)

Men & Egos, Part 2.

What makes you think you're better than me?

I shit you not, but that's what one dude wrote me via email, which inevitably led me to think the answer simply as: because you just admitted it yourself, dumb-ass.

Come on, you just gave the egomaniac beast in me a chance to right-hook you across the chin there, buddy. 

In most social situations, it'd been awfully inappropriate for me to say thus, but given we don't know each other, and highly unlikely you and I would ever be in a position to get acquainted under such circumstances, I think I'm entitled to say:

And for the record, it isn't that I think I'm better than just you... I probably think that of just about every other guy I see on the streets, and probably in boardrooms too. If you were a woman, I'd bother to be nice and court you for obvious reasons...double that if you're a gorgeous beautiful woman; but when it comes to dealing with men, however, I'm in constant "I don't give a shit who you are" mode. 

***

Probably that sort of thinking makes some women hate my guts, I'll admit -- particularly attached ones who interest me. But in this city where a man's worth is measured in very material terms mostly, I just play by the very expectations and norms that defines the disease that makes one agree that greed is good: if you hate me for being the obnoxious arrogant prick I am, then in all likelihood I probably have a way to intrigue you likewise enough to seduce you, all in the same instance. After close to 2 decades in the game, I think I know just what the hell I'm talking about and just said.

I move quick, and when I do, I slice like a hammer.
- Willy Banks, Ocean's Thirteen.

Ponderings

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That song.

Was working out in the gym this morning when the radio played Eternal Flame by The Bangles. It's been ages since I last heard that song, and an ex-girlfriend in junior college used to call it "our song"-- we'd met at the end-of-orientation camp dance, and I'd mustered enough courage to go up to her and asked for a dance to that same song, and after that night, it was the start of a on-off adolescent relationship.

 

When you're barely 18 years old and in to your first relationship, you can probably expect things to be rocky, I think. Granted, it was romantic at times, but most times, there were squabbles over the pettiest of things; and I sometimes wonder if I'd become adverse to getting too serious and too committed in relationships because of that one experience.

 

The most memorable thing, I think, about that particular relationship was how I'd spent close to 2 months doing up a scrapbook filled with love poems, songs, pictures and sketches I drew myself for her birthday, and that was while we were preparing for the GCE "A" Level examinations. We'd been in a relationship over 2 years by then, and it all ended in the second year of my national service, about a month before my officer's commissioning parade. We got to invite family and loved ones to that parade, and while my parents were there, in place of the ex, I got a distant cousin to go along whom I sort of hooked up with on a rebound following the breakup.

 

Odd thing is that during those 2-3 years when I dated JC Ex, we never had sex-- we did engage in some really heavy petting sessions ("she let me finger her pussy!"), but my first sexual encounter wasn't with her, but with an older woman, an adjunct lecturer in school 5 years older than I was, and we had sex in one of the squash courts one evening when she was supposed to tutor me for the A level exams. I suppose that's where I started getting interested in married and available MILFs.

 

Anyway, I bumped into JC Ex one time some years back, and seriously, I was surprised to see the pretty prom queen so many guys tried to date had become chubby over the years, and nothing much to say about her grooming. Not trying to be nasty, but there you have it. She's married to an equally porky dude who kept eyeballing me from head to toe in that brief encounter, and for a second or two, an evil thought had crossed my mind and I wondered if I should say something along the lines of "Don't worry dude, she's all yours."

 

But I left it at that; say hello, did the how-are-yous, and left. So much for Eternal Flame.

 

***

La Femme is back from her trip, and after I'd picked her from the airport, and while she was in the shower, I texted Liz to tell her there might be some changes to our schedule; I get the feeling Liz wasn't really pleased, but she said no problems, cause she would be dating the other guy as well. Not sure if it was jealousy, but I did feel a tinge of uneasiness when she texted that.

 

La Femme had been packed off to London for almost a month by her company, and I was amused by how she'd run up to me (literally) soon as she saw me at the airport and again, literally jumped on me for a big hug and kisses like a small girl. When she started unpacking at home, I saw she'd been busy shopping much as she was working: a new Hermes Birkin that many women would envy, 2 new pairs of Manolo Blahniks, a dress from Red Valentino, and as usual, presents for me: a scarf from Burberry (not that I really needed one in this stupid tropical heat), and some shirts from Ted Baker. She's an expensive woman, really, but whatever rocks her world.

 

...which leads me to wonder why is it that women go all the way halfway across the globe to get stuff they could easily get back home in Singapore; I mean, the price differences aren't really that fantastic, and you factor in the marginal costs involved in the travelling and such, you may as well be patient and wait for another season then walk into the boutique at MBS or ION; and seeing how the shops here probably know her, she could probably get them to order and bring in particular pieces she fancied off the website-- and she's done it before too, so she would know.

 

With La Femme, it's almost like a totally different world we live in: rich daddy's girl who went to the top schools, have the looks and the brains, and is on the fast track career-wise, and in a hurry to get ahead of the pack; in terms of personality, she's a little like me, only I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. In her mind, she is the sort who despises women like Paris Hilton, but probably thinks she's a Carrie Bradshaw; needless to say, she's expecting her man to be like a Big, and it's no wonder her relationship track record is so similar to Carrie's.

 

Lifestyle-wise, with her, it's all about material comfort and indulgence; and honestly, I see nothing wrong in the way we live our lives-- we're both indulging in things we can afford to, even though to some, it may come across as extravagant.

 

Over the years, I've come to appreciate the relationship we've had over the years, and it's always nice to have a woman who can give a good debate on things especially in a business sense, though I have to admit there are times when I wish I'd gone for a simpler woman who would shut up to let her man win his side of the argument.

 

I sometimes find it hard to define the kind of relationship I'm in with her, and honestly, I've given up explaining to my parents and hers about just what sort of "arrangement" we're in: to both sets of parents, they're wondering why the hell we don't just get married and have kids in the way people normally do, especially given we've been living together for so long. La Femme lists her status on Facebook as "married", but in actual fact, we're not: we've broken up on and off, she's moved in and moved out a couple of times, we're in love, then we're not; and in the end we just agreed she should stop watching Sex and the City because she's becoming too much of a Carrie.

 

But at least in the past 5 years, we've reached some sort of stability, probably because of her frequent work trips to Europe and New York. Which is probably just as well, because I realize relationships-wise, I don't like to be too tied down and suffocated with her being around me all the time.

 

And of course, the sex is great between us. I guess that's one thing people fail to realize, that a healthy sexual relationship is what cements two people together, and when all's said and done, we're just that primal. Some people ask if she's aware of me sleeping with other women, and if I think she's sleeping with other guys; I think it's come to a stage where, gauging from both our sex drives, the answers are clear, even though I suspect I'm probably more guilty of doing it more often than she does.

 

Somehow when La Femme's around, I devote more of my time for her, and she becomes a priority. Hence, Liz, Yam, the MILF and any other women I'd taken a fancy to would have to wait. It's sort of like a rule I'd set and gotten used to.

 

And it sure was nice to snuggle up next to her naked body last night after all this while.

 

Race day.

It was the F1 Singapore Grand Prix weekend, and yes, it was work for me throughout, and it certainly had been a long drag over the past four days. It did help when Liz popped by  to bring treats to the team, but otherwise, no opportunities for a good one with her even though we'd set up shop in a room at the Swissotel Singapore-- I couldn't possibly pull her into the bathroom, rip her clothes off and fuck her on the spot, much as I wanted to because of all the other people in the room.

 

Anyway, it was beginning to look like things were super boring until last night, the final night of the race. I'd gone down to get a pack of cigarettes and took a smoke at the area next to the taxi stand at the lobby, and there was this rather delicious-looking Thai lady (she'd been speaking to her 2 other lady friends in Thai) standing next to me, and we made small talk about the F1 GP. Her name was Yam, and as we spoke, her 3 friends looked on, amused, but being polite, I tried to include them in our conversation in between the smokes. They were probably high from the alcohol from wherever they were watching the race (the Equinox, maybe?), and that probably explained why they were already making naughty talk during our conversation.

 

We headed into the elevator together with some other guests at the hotel. Yam stood behind me in the crowded elevator car, and as I pressed the button for her floor, I felt her hand pressing on my butt, squeezing gently, and she moved closer to me so much so I could feel the light pressure of her breasts on my back. She whispered "I'd love to have you in my room", and as the elevator stopped on all the irrelevant floors, I noticed her friends were giggling as they continued watching on.

 

When we reached her level, she pulled my hand and led me out. By now her friends were laughing and teasing in Thai, and me being me, I allowed myself to be led to the door of her room. To my disappointment, the girl who was sharing her room went into the other room with the 2 other girls, so if anything happened, it was just going to be between Yam and myself.

 

I admit, I was still somewhat skeptical then, because for all you know, Yam might turn out to be one of those notorious Thai ladyboy prostitutes who had come into town for business. But the moment the door was closed, she unzipped and stepped out of her mini-dress, and it was clear looking on she had a pussy and not a dick -- bulge behind that thong she was wearing.

 

She continued to strip, then walked over to the bed and laid down. She beckoned me over, and I complied, and as soon as I was there, for some reason I went straight to kneel down, parted her pussy lips and started to lick away. It was inspection pass, she was a bona fide femme, and that was a genuine vagina getting wet and yummy in my face.

 

"So fast", she giggled, and sighed as I continued to lick away at her pussy, her juices wetting my nose and lips.

 

Satisfied, I took my clothes off, then kissed her on her lips as I moulded her breasts and fingered her. Very very nice-- Yam was yummy, no doubt.

 

I laid on the bed, she got on top of me, her hand teasing the head of my cock, and she gingerly kissed me on my neck, sucking on my nipples as she stroked and teased my cock with her fingers. Then she proceeded to put my already-throbbing cock into her mouth. She came back up and kissed me fully on the lips then said, "you're a big boy for a Chinese."

 

Right, so she was probably one of those who exclusively wanted Caucasians-- until now. I simply smiled and said nothing as she returned to her blow-job.

 

It was delightful as I watched her lick and suck away, and I felt I could just come in her mouth. I positioned her around so I could return the oral favour as we 69'd, and I could hear her muffled sighs as she sucked on my cock.

 

Yam smelt good, and as I thrust my cock into her, she let out a long sigh and said "that's good, baby". Yummy Yam was a moaner, and I loved the resonating sounds of her moans in the room as we fucked...

 

***

I had no idea time passed by so quickly, and by the time we were done, I realized it would have made it look like it was 2 hours past my supposed smoke break. I dressed up, and told her I had to get back to work, and she laughed, "you didn't like fucking me?"

 

No Yummy Yam, I certainly love fucking your brains out, but I really have work to do. I left her my name card, as if to prove a point of my presence at this whole event being based on work; and there came the awkward moment when I had my hand on my wallet and wondering if she was one of those opportunistic "working ladies" cashing in on the F1 season.

Turns out she wasn't, and as if she could read my mind, she went "I'm a PR in Singapore and I'm working as a marketing manager at XXX...maybe we could do lunch this week when you're done with your assignment?"

 

And that was that: lunch with Yummy Yam at Raffles Place on Tuesday.

 

When I got back to my room, the team was giving me updates on the events that happened while I was gone, and while I know they were wondering where in hell their boss had gone the past 2 hours or so, no one could say anything. I was back at work for about 15 minutes or so when Liz popped by again with supper for the guys.

 

Post-race, everyone was too bloody busy to note anything as Liz and I stepped on to the balcony of the room and she started taking photos of the lights around the Marina Bay area. She asked for a cigarette, and we admired the view as we smoked. At one point, I felt her running her hand along my back and moved close to me. I stroke her arm resting on the railing of the balcony and I said "I miss you these past few days."

 

She smiled, and gave me a peck on the cheek-- that kinda broke the moment as I turned around to look, concerned that the team probably just witnessed their boss being kissed by his recently-divorced deputy; but no, they all had their backs turned, busy with watching screens and updating information. No one seemed to give a fuck, in other words.

 

I kept my back to the railing, watching cautiously as I moved one had along Liz's back and right down to her butt. I gave her a squeeze, then cautiously moved my hand under the back of her skirt, feeling my way along her butt, along the channel of space between her legs. She leaned closer onto me, giving me a better angle to maneuver, my fingers moving into her panties and feeling the opening of her pussy. She was getting wet from all these, and I slided my finger along her slit.

 

I didn't keep that up for long as one guy got up from his seat, and I quickly moved my hand out from under her skirt. She looked hard at me, then whispered "I want more."

 

Honestly I would have loved to fuck her on that balcony, but obviously that was not to pass.

 

***

We finally called it a night at about 3.30 a.m. in the morning, and that's where I congratulated everyone on the team for a job well done and gave them all an off day today.

 

I was also silently congratulating myself for an eventful end to my otherwise long-drawn and mundane assignment, and I'm now booked for a lunch on Tuesday and a fuck-date with Liz that same night.

 

Gotta get my rest today then.

The (much) younger woman.

I met up with my close friend Mike this afternoon while we were checking out the Corals at Keppel Bay show units, and he shared he was dating a woman who's 18 years his junior-- that's "dating", as in trying to develop a serious long-term relationship-- and four months in, he's starting to wonder if it'd ever work out.

See, the difference is that with Izzy and me, regardless of the fact I'm a lot older than she is, the whole basis of the relationship is purely sexual, and we both know it wouldn't lead to anything more, even though we do have a lot of fun together. We both know I'm not going to replace her yuppie boyfriend, and she knows end of the day, I'd go back to J...some day, all this is going to end, in other words.

In Mike's case, however, he's hoping to find better luck and another shot at love again that could lead to a second marriage (he got divorced two years earlier), but I do have to admit I was wondering if he'd set himself up for failure with his new muse. Yes, he did seem happy, and I'm pretty sure he could make her very happy too with all the material comforts he'd be able to provide as the older and more established half in the relationship-- thing is, I found his attempt at trying to look young in the way he dressed a little pathetic. 

Then he went on to talk about the things she got him to do just for thrills and fun, like going camping with her friends and "ghost-hunting" at the deserted old Changi Hospital, among other less outrageous things e.g. paint-ball, ultimate frisbee at Sentosa beach every weekend, clubbing (again)

It's not that he minded doing these things with her, and I don't see anything wrong either: but what really got to him was hanging out with her friends and trying to get involved in their conversations, and expecting to know what the hell's going on. On his part, Mike couldn't find anything in common to talk about to them, and sure, they could learn a couple of financial tips from the guy, but he didn't think they'd be interested to talk about the market the way he and his "grown up" pals did.

And of late, they'd been fighting a bit too, especially when she said she felt they'd been hanging around with each other too often, and that she needed time away from him with her friends. He got really pissed when she took off for Bangkok three weekends ago without informing him until she'd landed-- and even more pissed to know she was in the Thai capital with two other guy friends. 

I told Mike he'd be a total jackass to be jealous about the Bangkok trip-- in my opinion, no need to get all worked up over the 2 guys: young poppycocks, and no, I didn't think she slept with either of them; even if she did, so what, Mike's old enough to understand these things.

But instead, my friend seemed to have dived in too deep with this young girl, and it seemed to drive him all edgy and such. I did suggest to him to do as she said, lay off a bit on the whole thing, and just go about with his own life, i.e. go meet other women as well; deep inside though, I get the feeling the whole relationship will just blow over soon enough.

Enough of that: neither of us were really interested in the Corals project, but me and J were really thinking of getting another property for investment. We'd be heading to Bangkok in 2 weeks to check out some properties there, and already J's done some pre-Bangkok trip shopping of her own getting new clothes for the trip.

Sometimes, I don't really understand the things women do myself. 

The Dorm Room Adventure

I was supposed to meet Brunetta for lunch today, but an hour before our date, she called to take a rain check-- something up with the kids apparently.

"Sorry for the let-down darling", she'd cooed. "I'll make it up to you, promise...next week perhaps?"

So next week it is then: next week, when the husband's not in town, when she could send the kids over to her sister's, and when J's off again on a flight.

And just when I thought I was facing a prospect of a horribly dull afternoon and having to lunch alone, Izzy called and "demanded" to know if I was going to pick her up after her classes. I'd decided initially on meeting up with Bru, and since that lunch date wasn't going to happen, I settled for Izzy, and "apologised" for being too busy to reply about meeting her.

We ended up at a Fragrance hotel room on the west side near the uni after a simple lunch at Vivocity, and she'd wanted to show off her new pair of crotchless panties that she had under her short skirt. Goodness, if that was what she'd been wearing, her undergraduate classmates probably had a good view of her lovely shaven pussy during tutorial classes or something.

We had sex while she kept the panties on. I was admiring her tan lines from the weekend she'd spent at Sentosa with her boyfriend, and the two toned glow seemed to accentuate her brown nipples more-- nice and perky to look at as we fucked. 

Izzy was particularly insatiable today, and she didn't seem to get enough even after I'd come twice and our two hours were up, so we did something that we hadn't done before: head to her room at the hostel, and went for more hard rocking action on that single bed in the room. 

I was getting concerned at some point about her loud moaning and sighs as we had sex in her room, and I was sure I wasn't imagining it when someone in the next door rooms (or probably the rooms above or below us) started blaring loud music. I'd forgotten what it was like to be doing it in a college dormitory, and it was nice to be reminded of the days and nights when I was having fun in my own dorm room in my undergraduate days.

The thing about an undergrad's room was that regardless of the gender, things would be in a perpetual mess, and in Izzy's case, she was careless about leaving her clothes and undergarments around.

"Geez, how do you know which are the clean ones from the soiled ones", I teased as I held up a pair of black panties she'd strewn carelessly on a nearby chair. She didn't want to answer that one, but instead took the panties, rubbed them on her pussy for a while as she continued to moan and sigh, then handed the pair of damp panties back to me.

"These are for you. Happy belated birthday, darling", she teased in return.

Which explains why I had a pair of black wet/soiled woman's panties in my trouser pocket after my little tryst with Izzy, and throughout dinner with J. I couldn't help reaching in to feel at them from time to time over dinner and think back to just how deliciously horny Izzy had been this afternoon, and I couldn't help but grin to myself at the recollection of how she had to peek out from behind the door of her room bare-bottomed and clad only in a tiny t-shirt to "check if the coast was clear" when it was time for me to go. 

Izzy texted me halfway through dinner. "Had fun at the dorm", her first message read; "Be careful she doesn't find them!" read her second message, referring to her panties.

Well find them J won't, for they're now in the pocket of my coat which in turn is hanging in the car...and I'm pretty sure I'd be still thinking about the afternoon's adventure while at work tomorrow-- fingering and playing with Izzy's panties, no doubt. ;)

"Come join our swingers' party"

A friend of mine was scammed recently on a social networking site that's rather popular here, and he basically hooked up with a "gorgeous woman" (we can't really be too sure, can we?)   who chatted him up, and then "invited" him to an exclusive swingers' party in Singapore. He got curious, and she managed to convince him to check out a website where he was asked to "book" his intention in advance-- and he did; he forked out SGD 250 for a special invitation to the swingers' party that was supposed to take place on Christmas Eve, and they'd even sent him a address at the private suites of a certain six-star hotel.

And when he arrived, surprise, surprise, there wasn't any party, and subsequent attempts to contact the hottie who hooked up with him proved futile. He then asked me for my opinion if he could file a police report regarding the matter, and I told him that while he did have a case, would he want to risk the potentially embarrassing exposure in the local media, given how anything that proves to be a spicy sex scandal always seems to gather the attention of the newspapers?

I am, however, surprised that a relatively well-educated guy like him holding a senior management post at a global multi-national would fall for a simple scam like this. I mean, surely he'd know better than to give his credit card details to some unknown website, and god knows what other damage they could dish out with the information he'd voluntarily (and stupidly) given up during the "payment". 

I wouldn't be surprised if there were other dudes out there who fell for the scam. The modus operandi seemed simple enough: set up an account on some social networking site, put up fake photos of a gorgeous girl, bait guys to chat, and then make the invitation to a swinger's party that will never take place.

Look, you wanna have your fun, go out there and meet real people. Alright, so maybe there could be real swinger parties going around out there, but why would you have to make an online payment before you even met your "host/organiser" in real life?

The kind of things men do to get their taste of forbidden fruit. Tsk tsk.

"It's complicated..."

What men should know: when her Facebook social network status says "It's complicated", it means just that-- she's probably in a relationship, but equally it's one of the following:

a. She's still exploring her options, having fun,  and doesn't want to get tied down;

b. She's in a relationship with a guy who doesn't want to get tied down (he's having all the fun); or

c. She's in a relationship that is potentially breaking up, and most probably a third party is involved.

But do take note: she didn't say she'd go out there and fuck every other guy that comes her way, so don't be mistaken this necessarily makes her an easy target for flirting or seduction-- it could well be the other way where she's just too tired of making things even more complicated than it already is by introducing yet another character into the picture.

It's quite amazing how we've come from straight-forward relationship status where you're either single, married, or divorced. Then there's the "open relationship"-- another misnomer because while it conjures up the idea that she's open to meeting new people, again it doesn't necessarily mean she's a promiscuous one out looking for sex.

I suppose it's all part of how we've evolved from being a somewhat sexually-repressed society into one that's more cosmopolitan and liberal. We're all free to pursue whatever relationship arrangements we could possibly think of, and that's the beauty of things, in my opinion.

Come to think of it, why bother with relationship statuses anyway? Can't we just make do with "companionship" and get on with whatever makes you both happy, from romantic coupling to casual friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddy arrangements?

***

I am feeling a little sorry I'd chosen to walk away from a rather promising open friends-with-benefits option recently, but at the same time, I am a little apprehensive of a potentially sticky relationship where she starts to get a little too emotionally dependent and attached apart from the physicality of things.

Oh well. 

...

So this marked my n-th return to the blogosphere, hopefully without the "sex blogger" reputation that plagued me since I started my first blog in 2002. I get it: I'm always fond of starting and deleting blogs, but you can't really blame me for it-- I don't want to be known as just another anonymous sex blogger-- not that anonymity doesn't work for me, it does; only I don't want to be just one of those blokes who gains readership by recounting the number of women I've shagged and such. I mean, really, much as this is a online little black book of sorts, I seriously hope that's not all there is to me. I do hope you realise there's more to me than just my online persona.

I'll share my stories, yes, but equally, I'd like to be known as someone who's more than a walking fucking dildo. 

I've given some thought to how I'd go about with this new blog: as usual, I'm not intending this to be a substitute for locker-room boasts of all the women I've had/am seeing; I don't profess to be the world's greatest lover, and neither is it my intention to shout out to the women out there that they should really try to sleep with me.

I do, however, like a space where, in addition to all the little escapades and rendezvous, I'd share more about my thoughts on other things pertaining to relationships and such...it's my way of saying yes, I do have a brain, and I'm not just a dick that wants to fuck around.

***

All else said, it's nice to be back blogging. This time, I don't intend to go anywhere. :)