It is a game of patience and control coupled by a trickled reward system – an sms here, small peck on the cheek, followed by a stern comment about their poor posture or bad hair – a neg for good measure – then maybe a round of snowballs. They eventually open up, and you can find yourself an actual date. From there, we can see how the tumblers fit.
It was Saturday morning at 5:30am. Sitting in the cab crossing the harbor tunnel with her head in my lap and the rest of her stretched across the backseat, I slipped my hand between her thighs with the meat of my thumb just touching her panties and her miniskirt slightly hiked up to the hips. I didn’t stroke her though, didn’t move my fingers, letting only the car’s vibration create a small friction that would undoubtedly make her wet over the 15-minute ride.
She pretended to sleep, but she moaned just loud enough for me to hear but not enough for the cab driver to take notice. It was an invitation to explore further, but I consciously ignored it. I’d have her beg for it later and suffer regret after, rather than have me impose myself forcefully now - only to be shot down with my cock half drawn before the main event.
I felt Mandy’s hand creep up my thigh. I swept it away with my right hand without moving my left – which was still secured snug at the Y. Hush. None of that. Foreplay is where you stake your dominance, but it does not begin at the bra strap. It begins hours before, in the club, across the bar. I remembered this suddenly, and I turned to look out the window deep in thought.
Watching the harbor tunnel lights flash by in rhythm I reflected on how my team differs in each their own style. The hardest part is breaking through the barrier that makes us all strangers without baring so much that we become ordinary.
Hulk is good at this. He has a no-nonsense in his approach, penetration, and command of the game. As I explained in an earlier entry, it is in his carnal nature.
Saks is slightly different. He is ambivalent and nonchalant, often misinterpreted as controlled and cool. His dorky history as a Street Fighter 2 champion and unhealthy obsession with manga soap comic books would suggest otherwise. A manager at a respectable financial firm, his specialty is the junior office girl; the young and ambitious. They draw from his terse, even callous, tone – feel abused by his dismissive comments whilst secretly yearning for his approval.
Kal is naturally good looking and a brilliant speaker, but he grew into his looks and so he’s inexperienced. Furthermore, his new found Eurasian powers are shackled by a serious 1-year relationship. Women are drawn to his superman features and captured by his unique ability to remember small details about them. He was born the most powerful of us all, but the life of fighting crime, the cape and shield, these were the opportunity costs. In 2008, he chased the girl of his dreams and so he had not time to play. He knows this.
We often talk about what life would have been like if he had chosen our path, imagined glorious battles with phalanxes of 3-sets, 4-sets, and perfect 10s. Maggie Q, Athena, Jessica Alba, and the girl who works the door at M1NT – they would have all fallen naked before the Son of Krypton. But we respect his wishes, and we are committed to the disco wars in his absence.
Johnson, on the other hand, is the quiet and fearless one. He’s a surgeon, so his credentials put him heads and shoulders above the ‘i-wankers’ and ‘senators’ that flood Lan Kwai. Add back the fact that most doctors in Hong Kong don’t party or even have time to go out, he becomes a genuine rarity. We suspect Johnson draws his confidence from a particular physical talent. You see, Johnson has a black man’s cock. He is an Asian man with a black man’s cock. We once proposed that he change the first letter in his name to an exclamation mark - like in Africa. It would be spelled kinda like, "!ohnson."
We once shared a room in Cebu while on vacation, and he was tapping the girl he picked up from the club in the bed next to me; she was devouring him with a voracious appetite, but after their 2-hour marathon, she turned over and whimpered, ‘it feels like you’re pressing up against my chest. I can’t breathe. It feels like you’re puncturing a lung!’ The monster giggled before entering her again. I heard her take a deep breath in anticipation. I chuckled into my pillow. The man is a monster. Sometimes we introduce him as Obama’s 3rd half-brother, but few seem to appreciate the joke.
‘All the different colors of the rainbow,’ I thought to myself. Coming out of a fantastic run over Xmas holidays and CNY, I felt rejuvenated and ready to take on 2009. I had a full team at my disposal and a long laundry list of targets. Rebirth, I thought to myself.
The cab finally arrived at Mandy’s apartment complex. The lobby looked nice and new, and I imagined what it would have been like to go up with her in the elevator stripping her down to her heels. She got out of the cab, and she lingered by the door - her body language showing urgency and she expected me to follow. She fixed her skirt and pulled out her lip gloss. I got out briefly, gave her a kiss on the cheek goodnight, hopped back into the cab, closed the door and gave the man my address back to Central. In the side view mirror, I could make out her parted lips, mouth agape in surprise.
The cab driver turned to me in an uproar, ‘Yo, buddy. Why didn’t you go home with that girl? She was hot, man! And ready to go!’
I chuckled politely, ‘Aiya, thanks for the encouragement. But I’m not in the mood tonight. No point in raising expectations. Besides, I have tomorrow in mind.’
He nodded as though he understood, ‘Deem ar? What’s up? Too much booze tonight? Maybe you’re not trying hard enough! Next time don’t drink so much lar. It makes you slow!’
I smiled and nodded as I looked back out the window, rubbing the tip of my thumb and index fingers together, feeling the silky ooze glide in between.
We often talk about what life would have been like if he had chosen our path, imagined glorious battles with phalanxes of 3-sets, 4-sets, and perfect 10s. Maggie Q, Athena, Jessica Alba, and the girl who works the door at M1NT – they would have all fallen naked before the Son of Krypton. But we respect his wishes, and we are committed to the disco wars in his absence.
Johnson, on the other hand, is the quiet and fearless one. He’s a surgeon, so his credentials put him heads and shoulders above the ‘i-wankers’ and ‘senators’ that flood Lan Kwai. Add back the fact that most doctors in Hong Kong don’t party or even have time to go out, he becomes a genuine rarity. We suspect Johnson draws his confidence from a particular physical talent. You see, Johnson has a black man’s cock. He is an Asian man with a black man’s cock. We once proposed that he change the first letter in his name to an exclamation mark - like in Africa. It would be spelled kinda like, "!ohnson."
We once shared a room in Cebu while on vacation, and he was tapping the girl he picked up from the club in the bed next to me; she was devouring him with a voracious appetite, but after their 2-hour marathon, she turned over and whimpered, ‘it feels like you’re pressing up against my chest. I can’t breathe. It feels like you’re puncturing a lung!’ The monster giggled before entering her again. I heard her take a deep breath in anticipation. I chuckled into my pillow. The man is a monster. Sometimes we introduce him as Obama’s 3rd half-brother, but few seem to appreciate the joke.
‘All the different colors of the rainbow,’ I thought to myself. Coming out of a fantastic run over Xmas holidays and CNY, I felt rejuvenated and ready to take on 2009. I had a full team at my disposal and a long laundry list of targets. Rebirth, I thought to myself.
The cab finally arrived at Mandy’s apartment complex. The lobby looked nice and new, and I imagined what it would have been like to go up with her in the elevator stripping her down to her heels. She got out of the cab, and she lingered by the door - her body language showing urgency and she expected me to follow. She fixed her skirt and pulled out her lip gloss. I got out briefly, gave her a kiss on the cheek goodnight, hopped back into the cab, closed the door and gave the man my address back to Central. In the side view mirror, I could make out her parted lips, mouth agape in surprise.
The cab driver turned to me in an uproar, ‘Yo, buddy. Why didn’t you go home with that girl? She was hot, man! And ready to go!’
I chuckled politely, ‘Aiya, thanks for the encouragement. But I’m not in the mood tonight. No point in raising expectations. Besides, I have tomorrow in mind.’
He nodded as though he understood, ‘Deem ar? What’s up? Too much booze tonight? Maybe you’re not trying hard enough! Next time don’t drink so much lar. It makes you slow!’
I smiled and nodded as I looked back out the window, rubbing the tip of my thumb and index fingers together, feeling the silky ooze glide in between.
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