"Life is too short to waste any opportunity for happiness." - Sitting Pretty in Cebu City
I entered the cybercafe. I needed to check my e-mail. What if he had responded? I thought. Maybe we could finally go on a date. I had been careful to go to a cybercafe away from my neighborhood so as to avoid any unintended surveillance. I gave the guy my pesos and sat down. The cybercafe was empty but for me.
I began interacting with the computer to get to my e-mail. Nothing. What a waste of money?!? Then, however, the cybercafe guy came up to me and starting chatting with me. Where am I from? Do I go on the computer often? Do I chat? Where do I chat? As he peppered me with these questions, he also got closer and closer to me until his knee was lightly brushing against my side.
Impulsively, I asked: Do you want me to show you? He responded: Okay. I won't name it but he was a spitting image of a relatively famous artista and it seems that he understood that in the way he took care of himself. I didn't fully appreciate the whole thing until he was brushing up against me in my cubicle. I logged onto a particular chat site.
At that point, he practically was sitting in my lap. Not that I minded. In fact, I had shut off my higher faculties by this point and was communing with thinly veiled risk. He said he needed to excuse himself for a moment and disappeared.
I started to worry a little but I stayed where I was. He returned and said he had washed up. Why? I naively thought. Then, he unbuttoned his jeans and all became clear. I looked to the door of the cybercafe and noticed that upon his return he had closed and locked it. I returned to the matter at hand. He stripped completely. He apparently lacked the slightest inkling of shame or had an excessive appreciation for what God had given him. He began coaxing me to remove my clothes. However, overcome with shame and self-loathing, I at first resisted. He only got me down to my briefs.
We made out, went down on each other and finally, he rode me to climax. All along, however, I felt like there was secret camera or something -- as though this artista was posing for someone off screen. Then, after we climaxed and cleaned up, a transmutation. His excessive pride in his appearance had become my own excessive pride in my achievement. The desperation that brought me here only to open my inbox was not wasted opportunity, but happiness.
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