Orgy Porgy

So this is the third(?) time I joined this group of guys (two of them are the organisers and the venue sponsors) who are into “group fun”. These guys are, to merely simplify descriptions, in their 30s and 40s, can easily be lumped into the gay category of “daddies,” and are mostly top. That’s why they try to invite younger, more fit, and very game bottoms to the group fun. The rules are simple. No drugs. Bring your own condoms and lube. No cameras (photos or videos are not allowed). What happens in the room stays in the room (since several of them have wives, as in, actual wives—you know, the female variety—with matching children).

This latest group fun, compared to others I’ve been to, was one of the better orgies. The versa-bottoms who joined that night were four in total, which was a good number because the tops, who numbered around 6-10 guys (some left early, some came late, some preferred to just be sucked) had a variety of guys to fuck—from the slim and twinkish to the short but muscle-packed. One was absolutely talented with his mouth—let me call him Magic Mouth—and he gave blow jobs like his mouth had a life of its own. One wore porn-ready underwear (the open-at-the-back kind of t-back) which was sexy and inviting. All were very willing and able in their roles. All were able to take in the varying cock sizes of the tops, and everyone made sure they cleaned up nicely before going to the hotel room. And there were a lot of condoms and lube available. Guys could easily protect themselves while having fun.

When I hook up, I normally just get off once and that’s it, because my recovery period in between ejaculations takes a lot longer, given my age. With group fun, I can pace myself better because I just enjoy watching the others while I recover. I was able to cum three times that night.

But while it was quite a fun night, I couldn’t help but turn introspective afterwards. Attending such activities has triggered some of my insecurities, which I thought I had overcome already, to come back. I worry that my “average Pinoy-size” penis isn’t enough for cock-hungry bottoms, that I am not be able to satisfy them because I may not hit their G-spot, that my girth and length will not fill them to their satisfaction. I worry that because I cannot recover as quickly as the others, I end up missing out on the other guys. I worry that I tend to ejaculate prematurely, especially if there’s a long time gap in-between hook-ups—I get excited easily, and reach climax much faster than usual.

I know these thoughts are neither healthy nor helpful to my sense of well-being and self-confidence. I do hope I can shake them off before they fester and balloon into inconvenient insecurities.

Maybe I should take my cues from some of the participants in the group fun. They didn’t pressure themselves with pleasuring others; they just watched and enjoyed themselves. But I find it a little bit selfish, though.

I will find a middle ground and make peace with my insecurities.

OMG at BGC

Remember my “Lumandi Ka, Papa” post? I got to hook up with that boy again, now that I am working in BGC.

One evening I got a message on Grindr—it was from him. He had moved to McKinley Hills (his parents got him a studio to rent) because he now works in BGC too. He had the whole place to himself, so I could come on over. He said he was about to go to the gym, but then he saw my profile on Grindr. So instead of a workout in some 24/7 gym, he decided to have a personal trainer come over—namely, moi—and give him a work out.

And yes, I did get to fuck and cum inside him—wearing a condom, of course.

Cuts Like A

I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.

I must have gotten my masochistic streak when I was still in my teens, a student always on the unrequited end of several one-way streets. After falling for straight guys one after the other, I adapted the attitude of, "Better I know things early than be led on. Better just tell it to me straight."

* * * * *

I've always had the hots for him for the longest time, but he was in a long-term relationship. Even so, he always took time to like almost each and every one of my Facebook posts, no matter how mundane they were to me. So I mistook that for interest; can you blame li'l old me? And for the past few years he's been working out regularly, so now he's even yummier.

Last night, lo and behold, I saw him in the mall with a different guy, not his partner. That got me curious, so I messaged him, and we got to chatting online. I found that he broke up with his partner of 11 years last January, and he was "just out on a date."

I thought, this is really is it! Maybe at the very least, we can hook up, and I'd get to live my fantasy of doing it with someone of that borta-level. But if it can lead to more, well, why not?

On hindsight the "date" part should have tipped me off, but he said it so nonchalantly, I didn't think it was anything serious, like it was their first date together. Also at the start of the chat he kept calling me "sir" which, to be honest, isn't an issue with me. But that should also have triggered warning bells.

After talking about why they broke up, I segued into my spiel. After he told me he was always in a hurry while his ex's pace was too slow for him, I joked, "Naku, dapat siguro pumila na ako sa iyo, bago ka pa magka-jowa na bago."

His reply? "Hahahaha," then changed the topic.

I wasn't going to let him get away that easily. "Noon pa ako attracted sa iyo," I messaged back.

Silence.

I was getting the hint. My better I know things early than be led on, better just tell it to me straight attitude kicked in. I offered him a way out: "Pero kung hindi mo naman feel, okey lang to just say so."

He replied: "I really like the guy na ka-date ko kanina, sir."

Ayun. At may "sir" pa.

So I messaged back: "Okay, got it. Don't worry, I won't bring it up again."

He replied: "Okay lang sir. Katabi ko siya actually tonight. Tulog na kami. Hatid ko pa siya bukas ng maaga. Good night, sir."

NAMPUCHA. Nang-inggit pa. Stabbing me in front wasn't enough. He had to twist the knife too.

Oh well. I did ask.

What’s Going On?

So suddenly this blog shifted from call center to sex stories. And the header is now different, with a new subtitle, “Just Call Me Daddy.” What’s happening?

Long story short: At the start of my fifth week as a BPO agent, I received a call from a classmate of mine whom I’ve known since grade school. He was looking for someone to help him manage a new creative services team that he was setting up with a foreign partner, a creative agency based in England. Was I interested?

I received his call on a Friday. On Monday first thing in the morning, I walked into the HR Dept. and handed in my resignation letter and my headset. Before lunch time I was officially resigned from the BPO company. They said I needed to go to their head office in Makati towards the end of April to pick up my final pay check. Three months to process a minuscule fraction of what their company earns in $US?! Jeez.

Anyway.

No, I did not get to hook up with anyone from the other accounts in the BPO. (I came this close, though, with one guy. But our schedules couldn’t align, and we ended up ghosting one another.) To be honest, I did fantasise about it prior to joining the BPO. But in reality, it’s more difficult to just hook up with your fellow officemates.

So now I’m working in BGC. It’s quite a distance from Marikina, and I’ve learned the hard way that it’s best to leave home before 6am. I hope one of these days I can find a place of my own within walking distance our office. I saw a male dormitory near the office; if I decide to be a bedspacer there, I wonder what stories may come out of living with three other guys and sharing a common shower room?

Abangan.

Sex Therapy

I decided to check up on him after a week.

Me: “So when will you get the results of the confirmatory tests?”

Him: “End of the month.”

Me: “How are you now?”

He told me that the reality has sunk in with his boyfriend, and now it seems that his HIV status is stressing out his partner more than they expected. “He’s more preoccupied, and a bit stand-offish than usual. I understand that he’s coping, but it’s stressing me out, too. I don’t think I’ll be getting any action from him any time soon.”

Me: “Why do you say that?”

Him: “He’s not saying it outright, but he seems fully bothered by the news.”

Which seemed like my cue to offer my services as a sex therapist—sex as therapy.

Me: “Wanna meet this weekend?”

* * * * *

Him: “I’m nervous and excited for later.”

We met up again, and because I wanted to respect their space, I decided to check us into a motel this time.

Once we were inside the room, we immediately lunged at each other.

He was hungry for physical contact; I was hungry for his man-child body (yes, he’s in his early 20s, and because he’s more sedentary than most, his figure looks the same as when he was still in college). He said he liked how I “took command” of his body. So I showed him who his daddy is.

I went down on him. I licked not just his stiff shaft but also his balls and all around them. Then when my tongue touched the edge of his hole, he let out a moan so loud, I had to stop and shush him. But he couldn’t help himself moan again when I played with his nipples with my mouth and tongue. And the moans got even louder when I licked the undersides of his feet and sucked his big toe. This time I decided not to shush him.

When I spread his legs apart and asked him, “Want me inside?” he almost begged, “Yes, please, please fuck me.”

I pounded his hole as I mashed his breasts and squeezed his nipples. Then I leaned over to french-kiss him and to mask his moans.

I felt myself peaking. “Oh god I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

He said, “Shoot it, shoot it!” And he started jacking off frantically to match my thrusts.

I shot my load, and as I let out an ecstatic “Aaaaaaahhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhh!” he said, “Don’t take it out! I wanna cum with you inside me!” And he furiously pounded his cock. I stayed inside him, thrusting my pelvis to and fro so he can feel me inside while he jacked off. “Aaaaaaaahhhh! Aaaaaaahhhhh! I’m cumming, Joel!” And white, hot, sticky cum spewed forth and landed on his neck, his chest, his stomach.

* * * * *

After I dropped him off at his place, he sent me a message.

Him: “Thank you.”

Me: “For what?”

Him: “For everything. Honestly, this is helping me cope with my BF being stressed and all.”

Me: “Well, I’m glad to be of help in this way. And really, helping someone by having sex with him isn’t a task but a treat, hahaha!”

Him: “It was one of the most fun moments of sex I’ve had in a while.”

Me: “Next time I’ll bring mascots and we’ll have them dance.”

He’s already made up his mind that the results of the confirmatory test will be positive. I wonder how his boyfriend will cope with that news in the following weeks. I offered to talk to his BF and introduce him to my poz friends with non-poz partners (to form some sort of support system), but he nixed the idea.

I hope they get through this together.