NSFW
gambit30
Contributor
Disclaimer: These are fictionalized versions of some of the adventures I embarked on. It's up to you, readers to decipher which are true and fiction. I may or may not post some pictures with these stories. If I do, please refrain from asking for videos; I do have them, and if I want to, I will post them in the video section of this forum. Comments are very much appreciated. Thanks, and enjoy!
January 2020 – Quezon City
It was one of those Friday nights when the city buzzed with an electric kind of restlessness. I was heading home from Manila, bone-tired but not quite ready to call it a night. My phone vibrated—group chat lighting up. A couple of friends were already at Inumart along Morato. Cheap drinks. Loud laughter. Just the kind of chaos to end a long week.
I figured I'd pass by. What harm could a couple of beers do?
The place was packed. Neon lights cut across cigarette smoke and chatter. Our table was tucked somewhere between the sound system and the back door, and before long, the usual round of dares started flowing with the Red Horse. One friend, already red in the face, challenged everyone to strike up a convo with a stranger.
Most of us laughed it off. We weren’t in our early twenties anymore. But maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe I just wanted to feel something different that night. So I turned around and caught the eye of the girl seated behind me.
She had a look—half curious, half guarded. Mid-length hair, soft eyes with that unmistakable chinita pull, slim frame, maybe 5’4” or so. Not so pretty, but appealing in a low-key, quietly dangerous way. Nineteen, she said later. Said she was drinking to forget someone, an ex she was trying to erase one shot at a time.
We started talking—slow at first, then flirtier. She smiled at my sarcasm. I grinned at her stubbornness. Before the night ended, I slipped her my number and tapped her shoulder as we left, motioning toward her phone.
"Text mo ko, punta na ko sa oto, sunod ka palabas."
A gamble. But minutes later, I heard the car door open. She slid in beside me, still smelling of gin and uncertainty.
"First time ko 'to," she said, not meeting my gaze. “Sumama sa lalaking hindi ko kilala.”
I didn’t press. Just turned the engine on and let the silence hum. Somewhere between banter and bullshit, her body language softened. A leg brushed mine. A glance lingered. Her skirt had crept just enough up her thighs to catch the moonlight.
By the time we reached the nearest motel, the air inside the car was already thick with something unspoken.
Inside the room, she asked to shower first. I nodded, trying to distract myself by pretending to flip through the TV channels. But the sound of the water hitting tile was driving me crazy. I knocked, half-jokingly.
“Pwede bang maki-shower?”
She opened the door, eyes playful. "Sige… pero huwag kang manyak."
Steam wrapped around her like a veil, but it couldn't hide her figure—slim but curvy in the right places. My eyes trailed from the curve of her hips to the unexpected fullness of her chest. Her skin was warm and soft beneath my fingers as I stepped in.
Water beading down her collarbone.
My hands tracing the lines of her waist.
Lips finding each other like we’d done this dance before.
She dropped to her knees, bold but unsure, her mouth exploring me with a mix of curiosity and hunger. I gasped softly, the sensation electric—but I gently lifted her, turned her around, and pressed against her slick back. Her breath caught when I entered her, slow and deliberate. She was tight, warm, responsive. A soft moan escaped her lips, echoing off the walls.
“Let’s move to the bed,” I whispered, almost against her ear. “I want to take my time.”
Laid out on the sheets, she looked at me through half-lidded eyes—like she was daring me to worship her. And I did.
I kissed her neck, slow and deliberate, tasting the salt of her skin. Her breath trembled every time my lips moved lower. I spent long minutes at her chest, teasing her nipples with my tongue while my hand roamed lower, cupping her, teasing her folds until she squirmed beneath my fingers.
When I finally slipped inside her again, her back arched. I moved slowly at first—watching, listening, feeling every reaction. Her moans were soft but unfiltered, a soundtrack that spurred me on until I was holding back everything just to not finish too soon.
“On top?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
That was my mistake.
The moment she straddled me, her confidence bloomed. She rode me like she’d done it a thousand times, grinding in rhythm, one hand on my chest, the other in her hair. Her moans grew louder, deeper, until she came—once, then again, shuddering, gasping. I barely held on, pulling her off just in time before I exploded onto my stomach, chest rising and falling like I’d run a marathon.
She laughed afterward—playful, glowing. “Halata bang favorite ko ‘yung ganon?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy memorizing the way she looked in the dim light.
We curled into each other after. She draped one leg over mine, tracing idle shapes on my chest. We didn’t say much—just the occasional whisper, soft kiss, shared silence. She sucked me off again, slower this time, more deliberate. I returned the favor with long kisses down her spine, holding back when she tried to guide away someplace she wasn’t comfortable with.
“No,” she said, firm but smiling. “Not there.”
“Alright,” I said. “But I’m not done with you.”
The next morning, the sunlight bled through the curtains. Her hair was a mess, her voice hoarse. I kissed her shoulder before sliding back inside her, spooning her as she moaned into the sheets.
This time was slower, more intimate—less about lust, more about sensation.
Afterward, we lay in silence for a while. No expectations. No promises. Just two strangers who had somehow found each other at the right time, in the right kind of night.
January 2020 – Quezon City
It was one of those Friday nights when the city buzzed with an electric kind of restlessness. I was heading home from Manila, bone-tired but not quite ready to call it a night. My phone vibrated—group chat lighting up. A couple of friends were already at Inumart along Morato. Cheap drinks. Loud laughter. Just the kind of chaos to end a long week.
I figured I'd pass by. What harm could a couple of beers do?
The place was packed. Neon lights cut across cigarette smoke and chatter. Our table was tucked somewhere between the sound system and the back door, and before long, the usual round of dares started flowing with the Red Horse. One friend, already red in the face, challenged everyone to strike up a convo with a stranger.
Most of us laughed it off. We weren’t in our early twenties anymore. But maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe I just wanted to feel something different that night. So I turned around and caught the eye of the girl seated behind me.
She had a look—half curious, half guarded. Mid-length hair, soft eyes with that unmistakable chinita pull, slim frame, maybe 5’4” or so. Not so pretty, but appealing in a low-key, quietly dangerous way. Nineteen, she said later. Said she was drinking to forget someone, an ex she was trying to erase one shot at a time.
We started talking—slow at first, then flirtier. She smiled at my sarcasm. I grinned at her stubbornness. Before the night ended, I slipped her my number and tapped her shoulder as we left, motioning toward her phone.
"Text mo ko, punta na ko sa oto, sunod ka palabas."
A gamble. But minutes later, I heard the car door open. She slid in beside me, still smelling of gin and uncertainty.
"First time ko 'to," she said, not meeting my gaze. “Sumama sa lalaking hindi ko kilala.”
I didn’t press. Just turned the engine on and let the silence hum. Somewhere between banter and bullshit, her body language softened. A leg brushed mine. A glance lingered. Her skirt had crept just enough up her thighs to catch the moonlight.
By the time we reached the nearest motel, the air inside the car was already thick with something unspoken.
Inside the room, she asked to shower first. I nodded, trying to distract myself by pretending to flip through the TV channels. But the sound of the water hitting tile was driving me crazy. I knocked, half-jokingly.
“Pwede bang maki-shower?”
She opened the door, eyes playful. "Sige… pero huwag kang manyak."
Steam wrapped around her like a veil, but it couldn't hide her figure—slim but curvy in the right places. My eyes trailed from the curve of her hips to the unexpected fullness of her chest. Her skin was warm and soft beneath my fingers as I stepped in.
Water beading down her collarbone.
My hands tracing the lines of her waist.
Lips finding each other like we’d done this dance before.
She dropped to her knees, bold but unsure, her mouth exploring me with a mix of curiosity and hunger. I gasped softly, the sensation electric—but I gently lifted her, turned her around, and pressed against her slick back. Her breath caught when I entered her, slow and deliberate. She was tight, warm, responsive. A soft moan escaped her lips, echoing off the walls.
“Let’s move to the bed,” I whispered, almost against her ear. “I want to take my time.”
Laid out on the sheets, she looked at me through half-lidded eyes—like she was daring me to worship her. And I did.
I kissed her neck, slow and deliberate, tasting the salt of her skin. Her breath trembled every time my lips moved lower. I spent long minutes at her chest, teasing her nipples with my tongue while my hand roamed lower, cupping her, teasing her folds until she squirmed beneath my fingers.
When I finally slipped inside her again, her back arched. I moved slowly at first—watching, listening, feeling every reaction. Her moans were soft but unfiltered, a soundtrack that spurred me on until I was holding back everything just to not finish too soon.
“On top?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
That was my mistake.
The moment she straddled me, her confidence bloomed. She rode me like she’d done it a thousand times, grinding in rhythm, one hand on my chest, the other in her hair. Her moans grew louder, deeper, until she came—once, then again, shuddering, gasping. I barely held on, pulling her off just in time before I exploded onto my stomach, chest rising and falling like I’d run a marathon.
She laughed afterward—playful, glowing. “Halata bang favorite ko ‘yung ganon?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy memorizing the way she looked in the dim light.
We curled into each other after. She draped one leg over mine, tracing idle shapes on my chest. We didn’t say much—just the occasional whisper, soft kiss, shared silence. She sucked me off again, slower this time, more deliberate. I returned the favor with long kisses down her spine, holding back when she tried to guide away someplace she wasn’t comfortable with.
“No,” she said, firm but smiling. “Not there.”
“Alright,” I said. “But I’m not done with you.”
The next morning, the sunlight bled through the curtains. Her hair was a mess, her voice hoarse. I kissed her shoulder before sliding back inside her, spooning her as she moaned into the sheets.
This time was slower, more intimate—less about lust, more about sensation.
Afterward, we lay in silence for a while. No expectations. No promises. Just two strangers who had somehow found each other at the right time, in the right kind of night.
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