Sunday, December 19, 2010


I could not keep my hands to myself.

I was walking her back to her apartment and it has been 10 minutes since she subtly hinted that she is horny.

No, her hint did not come in the form of "I'm wet" or "I need you now".

She merely told me that licking a part of her body will turn her on, and when I guessed breasts, she smiled and looked away meekly.

Then I noticed that her bosoms looked seductively curvy.

She was wearing a pair of push-up bra.

I almost jumped her there and then, desperately wanting to rip her blouse off. But I kept my composure and gentlemanly hugged her closer.

"Let's see if anyone's at home," she whispered.

The flat was empty.

She went ahead to take a shower while I quietly (and excitedly) sat in her living room.

After awhile, I heard her turn the shower off.

I looked towards her bedroom with eager anticipation, hoping to catch a glimpse of her wrapped in a small towel. Then, as if in a horror movie, she appeared by her bedroom doorway, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

I was sure I jumped, but I kept my cool.

"You want to come into my bedroom? It's cooler in here."

Cooler? I doubt so. If it plays out like I presume it to be, it is going to get hot. Like Mount Vesuvius. Or any volcanoes. When erupting.

I calmly followed her into her room and sat beside her on her bed.

"Now, what do you want to do?" she asked.

I was about to reply something decent, when I happened to peer into her T-shirt and sighted her braless breasts.

I could not wait any longer.

I leaned in and kissed her, with one hand reaching into her top to cup her breast. We alternated between french kissing and necking, as we gasped with heightened joy.

When we pulled away for a breather, we were already topless.

She laid on her bed, looking back at me with a sheepish grin.

Then I dived into her bosoms like a schoolboy who has seen a pair of womanly breasts for the first time.

I kissed her breasts happily, leaving a couple of hickies along the way. She arched her back and moaned aloud as I slurped on her nipples.

I then led my tongue southwards across her tummy and removed her shorts, letting her thighs bounced open gently in front of me.

"Has anyone licked you here before?" I teased.

She blushed and shook her head lightly.

"Want me to?" I teased again.

Knowing our answer, she giggled and looked away shyly.

I snuggled close to her pussy and started to lap on it. She instinctively tried to close her legs but I held her thighs wide open. Seconds later, she began to experience new waves of thrill. She gasped and sighed as she bit into her pillow, as if trying to hide her satisfaction.

Her body told a different story.

She would squirm away for awhile and return to grind her pussy against my tongue and mouth with irregular rhythm. I held onto her waist tightly as I relished every bit of her nectar.

Suddenly, her waist gave a sharp upward push and she let out a cry.

She came.

Not resting for a bit, I climbed atop her and pushed myself inside.

I thrusted hard, wanting to go as deep as possible. She looked at me with her half-closed eyes, but would bite her lips and look away from time to time, as if unable to bear the scorching heat that our bodies are producing.

Soon enough, I could no longer hold back and spewed onto her tummy as we both heaved with pleasure.

Thursday, December 09, 2010

I Can Almost Taste It

I must admit girls these days really know how to dress up.

And I’m not only referring to nubile girls dressed in clothes (if that’s what we still call them) that are of no difference to a running singlet, a party-bra and a pair of FBT shorts.

Just a month back, I spotted this young lady in stiletto heels, wearing a tight-fitting toga. Not many ladies can look that good in a tight-fitting toga, and she’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.

Then, a man hugged her from behind and said, “Why did you dress up like a sex pot for a wedding dinner?” That man turned out to be her husband.

That was when I, together with the bulge in my pants, heaved a sigh of envy.

Then, just last night, I met up with a female ex-colleague.

She used to be a Plain Jane, but turns out that she has picked up some good fashion sense as well.

The tube dress and the push-up bra that she wore exuded the sensuality in her and the pervert in me.

Many times, our arms and thighs would touch, and she would lean in close enough for me to smell her hair and to visibly feast on her scarcely visible cleavage.

So close, I could almost taste her.

Friday, December 03, 2010


This is the third time I'm leaving a it's-been-a-privilege-working-with-you note on my boss's desk.

It's the same old story. She'll ask me why, and I'll say I'll take a break and am going to do something different.

Twice I've retracted and shredded that note.

This time, I left her office empty-handed, smiling.

Since that day, I've met with a number of pleasant surprises, which came in the form of girls, friends and proposals.

I am still smiling.

Friday, October 15, 2010


It dawned upon me that I'm nearing my thirties and I still do not have full control of my career, and my social and sex life.

As I used to hate National Service, it was ironic that a recent in-camp training provided insights into my foggy future.

I've learnt and re-learnt a few things since then.

However, most interestingly, I found out that flings and fuck buddies don't always come in the form of party-goers, social network users and sex bloggers.

Just this afternoon, a female friend of mine revealed that she's into flings and she likes men going down on her.

She's a devout Christian, by the way.

I feel like a new man already.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Sex (Time) Bomb

Last night marked the fourth time I've met Stephanie, who's the girlfriend of a long-time friend of mine.

Stephanie is a vibrant, smart and smart-looking girl in her mid 20s, and other than her elusive cleavage and long slender legs, there's nothing loud about her attire.

Ironically, we have always met to prepare for our friends' weddings. Last night was no different.

Now, she has been doing that since the second time we've met -- the cleavage and the long slender legs.

I can't help it but I have always undressed her mentally whenever I meet her.

I would imagine myself sliding her top off, stroking her oh-so delicate skin like how an antique valuer appreciates the works of Van Gogh.

I would imagine her gasping at my every teasing touch and speck.

Then my thoughts would come to a screeching halt whenever I imagine myself removing her panties. Some godly voice would boom inside my head, warning, "Ah! Ah! That's your buddy's girlfriend, Jack."

Anyway, I have also caught her stealing glances at me whenever the group's having a discussion or playing some boardgames. Occasionally, our eyes would meet and surprisingly, she would hold that level of contact for a couple of minutes. And mind you, it's not an angry glare or an empty stare. It's as if she's trying to read my mind or anticipating my next move.

"He has remained as close friends with these guys for, what, a decade? How does he do it? He did not even attend the same university as them."

"He's tanned. I wonder what kind of sports he does."

"Why is he still single? Is he gay?"

"Did he notice my cleavage? Is it obvious?"

Ok, that last thought was mine.

The point is, I did not make a move on her. I dare not.

Because it's not just a matter of is it the blue wire or the red wire. Because whichever wire I cut will blow me out of the waters.

Bedding an attached or married girl may be exhilarating and fun.

But making a suggestive move on a girl who's attached to your friend of 10 years is not going to be as simple as removing her panties in my mind.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Before Sunrise

As the neon lights dimmed,
as the last music played its final notes,
as I left the final sips of Black Russian sitting at the bottom of my glass,
after I've had my share of short skirts, low cuts & see-throughs,
after the heated conquest between the bedsheets,
with the lingering smell of her hair & perfume,
I wait for that split second when the sun takes the moon's place,
that empty moment,

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Angels & Demons

I met Aphrodite and Succubus today.

Aphrodite came in the form of a docile yet confident young lady, somewhat like morning sunshine.

She has the right curves and she flaunts them, but she does so subtly in her flowing pinafore.

Her looks grows on you. She made sure that she melted my heart with her puppy-dog eyes, but I was reduced to dust whenever she smiles and chuckles.

She isn’t someone who I’d fuck; I wouldn’t even dare to mentally undress her. She’s so delicate that if I’d stick my dick inside her, she’ll break into million pieces of starlight.

Succubus was a different story.

She grins, playing with her silky hair, baiting you to eternal hell.

Forget Pamela-esque breasts and Shakirian hips; that’s old-school. Her body-fitting dress and her never-ending legs can condemn crusades, let alone me.

I froze as she bent forward to discard some waste paper into my bin, but I was relieved that I was able to maintain my composure and the rigidity of my dick. She stood up, beaming, and walked away from my desk.

Then she had to drop her pen.

That was when I almost burst into flames, with thoughts of me compelling her with the power of my dick.

Monday, July 05, 2010

Could Have, Should Have

I was reading Serena's post about a missed opportunity and I recalled a few blunders of my own.

On one occasion, during a good friend's wedding, I met up with a former classmate. I could have used a pseudonym, but let's call her Diana.

Diana is rather chubby who has come across as a cute girl. No one will think of her as sexy or sensual.

Anyway, back to the wedding. I was one of the groomsmen, by the way, and it's just so that Diana was seated beside me.

Now, as a groomsman, it was my job to leave the table from time to time to either attend to the wedding guests or to rescue the groom and his bride from any potential saboteurs. And Diana will always ensure that I'd never miss a dish.

Very sweet, that girl.

Then, I noticed that she would stroke my thighs everytime I was seated. She would slide her fingers along my inner thigh and appear nonchalant about it.

It was a huge turn-on for me. Had she touched my crotch, I would have jumped her there and then.

The problem was, I did not reciprocate; I was afraid she might take offense.

At the end of the night, I followed up with an sms, teasing her that I would love another thigh massage from her. She was amused and added that our former tutor, who was seated beside her, had his hands all over her the whole night.

Then it hit me.

If I had made a move on her, the night would have ended differently. I could be savoring every patch of her skin and her, every thrust of mine. And everytime I thought of this, I would sigh,

"Stupid, stupid Jack!"

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The Animal In Me

We were already kissing at the top of the stairs.

I had wanted to be the gentleman, sending her home after the movies and all, but her being in her tiny shorts has roused the animal in me.

Her supple lips and playful tongue did not succeed in taming me, as I was soon attracted to her slender neck. I chewed gently, feeling for her pulse with my lips, constantly reminding myself that tearing at her jugular vein simply do not work.

She had one palm on my shoulders and the other on my hips, not knowing whether she should stop me in my tracks or lure me to the feasting site.

We heaved against the still air and knew what was going to happen next.

She grabbed my wrists as I tore through her top like how a leopard would tear through the African plains with dinner in its sight. I was sure I was careful with her bra though.

Within seconds, she was topless. The sight of her breasts further incited the primitive passions within me. She pushed her palm against my forehead as I wrapped one arm around her waist, preventing her escape. She reluctantly grabbed my other arm as it tugged at her shorts. Bite marks, wet trails, swollen nipples and a lone pair of tiny shorts laid in the wake of this frenzy, the result of my hard sucking and soft gnawing.

I viciously pulled at her panties while she put up a futile struggle. Predictably, she quickly gave in and I peeled her panties away like a savage.

I gorged on her pussy, indulging in that raw, sweet scent of hers. Then, I stood up, lifted her left leg as she limped on her other foot, still yet to recover from my oral rampage.

And I pushed my length into her.

She gasped and shuddered, surprised by how willing her pussy was. She hung onto me and unleashed a vocal mix of hisses, purrs and growls into my ear as I grinded and pumped.

Within minutes, a tinge in my gut quickly evolved into a lust for release. I grabbed her butt closer to me and gave a final thrust, sealing her fate with a stinging gush of crème de la crème.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Think Different

Working in a company where 95% of its workforce is made up of women is not fun and not funny. It’s like getting into a relationship with each and everyone of them when most of them are already attached or married.

(Don’t tell me that there are attached girls who fuck around. What are the chances of that? The odds of hitting on a Victoria Secret fan out of the Orchard crowd are even higher.)

But amidst all the low cuts and short skirts, I’ve made a couple of good friends. So, we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, last year, after being inspired by The Bucket List, Yes Man and the Apple Computer slogan, I decided that I should engage in a new activity once in a while.

I’ve taken up diving, gone on a solo trip to Vietnam, quitted my 4-year job (not the current one), got drunk in one of the Fullerton Suites, became a groomsman, participated in marathons, jogged in the vicinity of the Institute of Mental Health, ambushed a Peeping Tom.

What’s next?

Skydiving? Gate-crash a party?

Bed a MILF?

Wednesday, March 31, 2010


I need to update this blog.