NSFWDue to popular demand, I'm starting this new thread to share with you my first encounter with a blue\-collar worker. Please keep in mind that this happened nearly four months ago, so some of the details might not be so fresh. But more importantly, I wanted to emphasize that I started my AMA in the first place to hopefully help other women \(and men!\) have an honest reassessment of their own suppressed desires and generally about sexuality in the Philippines in general. Trying to understand if I should or shouldn't do what I ended up doing, and why I want to do it in the first place helped me really accept who I am and make peace with what I want. It's no secret that many of us women have grown up being told what to be and what not to be, and this has influenced the kind of decisions we've made especially when it comes to sex.
There is a LOT of slut shaming and judgement in our culture, and many of it is tied to rigid societal structures, personal issues, and preconceived biases, and it's a discussion that I think is important to have. I'm not doing this just to titillate or arouse, but really what I wish will happen is that people really embrace who they are and what they want. Initial post is here \(asking for advice\), and my AMA four months after the fact is here. :\) Huge thanks to the Redditors who have helped me accept that this is something I want, and that I choose to do. You guys are great! \-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\- So to start, I had been talking to a few Redditors for a while already to help me process what I was going through. TL;DR, I realized that it was something that was going to eventually make me explode if I kept it pent up for much longer, so I decided to go through with it. There's a social media site I go to which, for some reason, seems to be full of the kind of men I was looking for. That's where I met Juan \(not his real name\). We messaged for a a few days online. He was in his 40's, a taxi driver, and unmarried. He wasn't an attractive man. He was dark\-skinned, with a heavy build and a scraggly mustache. He said he was just on the site to meet new friends, and maybe to find someone who would love him. I told him I wasn't looking for anything serious, but I didn't mind making a new friend. He would call me Ms. Byutipul. He would tell me about his day and ask me what I was doing, but wasn't much of a conversationalist beyond that. He was always a polite, though. He never asked for more than I was willing to give, whether in terms of personal information or even photos. I sent him a few. He told me I was beautiful. At some point, we were messaging and he told me he had just finished up a shift and was going to head home from the garage. I asked him if he wanted to meet up. He asked me what we were going to do, and I told him I was game to do anything. I suggested we meet up and go somewhere private. We met up at a mall along Shaw Blvd. I arrived first and waited at a Starbucks until he messaged me that he was there and I made my way to where he was. It was the middle of the day then, on a weekday, so most people were at work or at school. I figured that was the time when I was least likely to run into anyone I knew. Not going to lie, I was nervous af. My heart was pounding and a million possibilities were going through my head. What if I was going to get kidnapped, robbed, or killed? What if he was a creepy psycho stalker? There were many times when I could have decided not to go through with it, but in the end I went to the agreed meetup spot, a convenience store along the side of the mall. I spotted him right away. He seemed nervous, too, but he greeted me and told me I was even more beautiful in person. We decided to grab a bite to eat first to get comfortable. I bought him lunch at the food court. As we talked, we got a bit more comfortable with each other. We made small talk. I was pleasantly surprised that despite his rough appearance, he was gentle and friendly and not at all touchy. We sat across from each other and kept a respectable distance while we walked. He told me he grew up in Surigao and moved to Manila to find work. He apologized that he was dressed as he was, in a sando and shorts, and he confessed that he wasn't actually sure if I was going to show up. I remember thinking that it was such a stereotype, he even had the bimpo slung around his shoulders. He told me he thought I was a poser, and asked me why I picked him. I told him it's because he looked like a decent guy. He told me not to worry, and na "mabait naman po ako, wag kayong magalala, hindi naman po ako masamang tao". He seemed it. After our meal finished, he waited for me to make the first move. I asked him if he wanted to go na, and he just nodded. My heart was pounding in my chest at this point, I thought it would explode. I gulped. My throat was dry, but I was also more excited than I have ever been in my life. I fidgeted uneasily because of the growing heat between my legs. Even up to now, the topic of sex had never come up, but I think we both knew what was on our minds. We took a cab to one of the motels along Shaw. I'm pretty sure the staff did a double take when I asked him for a room, but in a few minutes, I was closing the door and locking the latch. He sat on the bed and I stood in front of him, not really knowing what to do next. He asked me if I was sure about this. I nodded and suggested we watch a bit of TV first, so we did. We watched while we were reclining on either side of the bed. I looked him over. He was definitely not an attractive man, not at all similar to the kind of guys I had dated in the past. He had a big, rounded belly, dark, uneven skin, and was dressed in a worn sando and basketball shorts. He had a thick, heavy brow and a naturally scowling face, which was worn from a life that was probably much rougher than I could understand. He was a few inches shorter than I was and had a tribal tattoo winding up his arm. He must have felt me looking because he turned to face me. Our eyes met. I came in to kiss him. We quickly found ourselves a tangle of arms and legs as we made out. He was not a gentle kisser. His tongue slobbered noisily all over my lips and face. He tasted of cigarettes and the siomai and soy sauce he had earlier. I kissed him back with equal fervor, stopping only so we could strip down to our underwear, and then it was him in his briefs lying on top of me, my bra and panties the only thing hiding my most intimate parts from view. I reached inside his briefs and started stroking his cock. He was hard. And I was wet, oh so wet. I made my way down and pulled his briefs down his thighs. His cock was thick, justting from a tangled mass of thick pubic hair to curve to the side like a banana, a darker shade than the rest of his skin with angry veins running down its length. It was salty from sweat, and it smelled of his musk. I loved it. I took him into my mouth. He groaned as I did, one hand lightly on my head as I bobbed my head up and down. I wanted him to enjoy my mouth. I wanted to make him feel like he had died and gone to heaven. I wanted to give him the best fucking blowjob he had ever had in his life. He grunted and I could feel his hips tensing. I stopped. We stripped off the remainder of our clothing and I was naked. It hit me then that he was just the third guy who had ever seen me naked, and the first who was not my boyfriend. We kissed again. He ground his hardness against me. He reached between my legs and slid a finger inside me. I gasped. He felt how aroused I was, how bad I wanted him. He fingered me while we made out until I couldn't take it anymore. I stood to get a condom from my bag and slipped it on him. "Sigurado po kayo, ma'am?" he asked me. I didn't answer. This was it. I was going to let this man fuck me. I was scared, I was excited. I could stop now, but I didn't. I was going to take this stranger's penis into my vagina. I gripped him and guided him into my pussy. Fuck, he felt good inside me. We were moaning and gasping and grunting. I rode him hard, grinding my hips backwards and forwards, his hands on my waist, letting me take the lead. He was telling me how beautiful I was, how good I felt, how tight and wet and hot I was. I came. I rolled onto my back and he got on top of me and pumped into me, my arms and legs wrapped around him. I gasped, telling him to do me harder, faster. I begged him to cum for me. I remember seeing our reflection on the ceiling mirror, how incongrous we looked with his heavy bulk almost completely covering my slight frame. He groaned and I felt his cock throb inside me, and he emptied himself into the rubber. It lasted just a few minutes, but that was, without a doubt, the most intense sex I had ever had in my life. He pulled out of me. The sweetheart apologized for finishing so quickly, saying that I felt too good that he couldn't hold back, but assured me he could go again. I told him it was alright, that I loved it. We talked some more while he recovered. He told me that he never thought he would be able to have sex with someone like me. He asked me again why him, since I could had my pick of any guy more good looking, or with more money. I honestly didn't know what to answer, so I shrugged and said, "ayaw mo?" I was processing what happened myself. I definitely enjoyed it. The three orgasms I had proved it. He wasn't significantly bigger than my exes, and it wasn't the roughness of the sex that did it. I found myself wondering what my friends would say, what my parents would say if they could see me like this, right now, with him. We went one more time. I went down on him, getting him hard so we could go again. He went down on me, tasting me. We fucked. I'm a little bit embarassed by how loud I was. It was like a dam had burst inside me, and all of the dirty, obscene thoughts in my mind came flooding out my mouth. I told him to use me, to use my body, to use my pussy. He liked fucking me missionary or cowgirl, so he could watch me while I took my pleasure. I told him how big he felt inside me, how hard he was. I told him, loudly, as I was about to come, that he was making me come, and then, I came over and over again on his dick. After we had gone our separate ways, he sent me a message thanking him for a once in a lifetime experience. I told him that the pleasure was all mine. True to his word, he never messaged again. It took me several weeks to think about what I did. I'm not going to lie, I went through a period of shame which made me toss out the disposable SIM card I was using to message guys like him and delete my account on the site. In the end, I found myself realizing that there was absolutely nothing wrong with what I did \- we were both consenting adults, and nobody was going to be hurt. Why should I deny myself what I wanted? What makes him any different from any of the other guys I had been with before? Some people like abs and perfect teeth and white skin. I just happened to want something different. It was just sex, and it was good sex. In fact, he was even kinder and more decent than some of the other guys I knew from my circles. I realized that most of the dissonance I felt wasn't internal, but external. All of the judgement came from outside, when I myself was happy and content with what I did. It took me a few more weeks to get more comfortable with the fact that I wanted what I wanted, and I enjoyed it. But I was more content with the fact that the choice I made was one that I made for myself, without needing to worry about what anyone else thought or felt, and it was incredibly empowering for me.
There is a LOT of slut shaming and judgement in our culture, and many of it is tied to rigid societal structures, personal issues, and preconceived biases, and it's a discussion that I think is important to have. I'm not doing this just to titillate or arouse, but really what I wish will happen is that people really embrace who they are and what they want. Initial post is here \(asking for advice\), and my AMA four months after the fact is here. :\) Huge thanks to the Redditors who have helped me accept that this is something I want, and that I choose to do. You guys are great! \-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\- So to start, I had been talking to a few Redditors for a while already to help me process what I was going through. TL;DR, I realized that it was something that was going to eventually make me explode if I kept it pent up for much longer, so I decided to go through with it. There's a social media site I go to which, for some reason, seems to be full of the kind of men I was looking for. That's where I met Juan \(not his real name\). We messaged for a a few days online. He was in his 40's, a taxi driver, and unmarried. He wasn't an attractive man. He was dark\-skinned, with a heavy build and a scraggly mustache. He said he was just on the site to meet new friends, and maybe to find someone who would love him. I told him I wasn't looking for anything serious, but I didn't mind making a new friend. He would call me Ms. Byutipul. He would tell me about his day and ask me what I was doing, but wasn't much of a conversationalist beyond that. He was always a polite, though. He never asked for more than I was willing to give, whether in terms of personal information or even photos. I sent him a few. He told me I was beautiful. At some point, we were messaging and he told me he had just finished up a shift and was going to head home from the garage. I asked him if he wanted to meet up. He asked me what we were going to do, and I told him I was game to do anything. I suggested we meet up and go somewhere private. We met up at a mall along Shaw Blvd. I arrived first and waited at a Starbucks until he messaged me that he was there and I made my way to where he was. It was the middle of the day then, on a weekday, so most people were at work or at school. I figured that was the time when I was least likely to run into anyone I knew. Not going to lie, I was nervous af. My heart was pounding and a million possibilities were going through my head. What if I was going to get kidnapped, robbed, or killed? What if he was a creepy psycho stalker? There were many times when I could have decided not to go through with it, but in the end I went to the agreed meetup spot, a convenience store along the side of the mall. I spotted him right away. He seemed nervous, too, but he greeted me and told me I was even more beautiful in person. We decided to grab a bite to eat first to get comfortable. I bought him lunch at the food court. As we talked, we got a bit more comfortable with each other. We made small talk. I was pleasantly surprised that despite his rough appearance, he was gentle and friendly and not at all touchy. We sat across from each other and kept a respectable distance while we walked. He told me he grew up in Surigao and moved to Manila to find work. He apologized that he was dressed as he was, in a sando and shorts, and he confessed that he wasn't actually sure if I was going to show up. I remember thinking that it was such a stereotype, he even had the bimpo slung around his shoulders. He told me he thought I was a poser, and asked me why I picked him. I told him it's because he looked like a decent guy. He told me not to worry, and na "mabait naman po ako, wag kayong magalala, hindi naman po ako masamang tao". He seemed it. After our meal finished, he waited for me to make the first move. I asked him if he wanted to go na, and he just nodded. My heart was pounding in my chest at this point, I thought it would explode. I gulped. My throat was dry, but I was also more excited than I have ever been in my life. I fidgeted uneasily because of the growing heat between my legs. Even up to now, the topic of sex had never come up, but I think we both knew what was on our minds. We took a cab to one of the motels along Shaw. I'm pretty sure the staff did a double take when I asked him for a room, but in a few minutes, I was closing the door and locking the latch. He sat on the bed and I stood in front of him, not really knowing what to do next. He asked me if I was sure about this. I nodded and suggested we watch a bit of TV first, so we did. We watched while we were reclining on either side of the bed. I looked him over. He was definitely not an attractive man, not at all similar to the kind of guys I had dated in the past. He had a big, rounded belly, dark, uneven skin, and was dressed in a worn sando and basketball shorts. He had a thick, heavy brow and a naturally scowling face, which was worn from a life that was probably much rougher than I could understand. He was a few inches shorter than I was and had a tribal tattoo winding up his arm. He must have felt me looking because he turned to face me. Our eyes met. I came in to kiss him. We quickly found ourselves a tangle of arms and legs as we made out. He was not a gentle kisser. His tongue slobbered noisily all over my lips and face. He tasted of cigarettes and the siomai and soy sauce he had earlier. I kissed him back with equal fervor, stopping only so we could strip down to our underwear, and then it was him in his briefs lying on top of me, my bra and panties the only thing hiding my most intimate parts from view. I reached inside his briefs and started stroking his cock. He was hard. And I was wet, oh so wet. I made my way down and pulled his briefs down his thighs. His cock was thick, justting from a tangled mass of thick pubic hair to curve to the side like a banana, a darker shade than the rest of his skin with angry veins running down its length. It was salty from sweat, and it smelled of his musk. I loved it. I took him into my mouth. He groaned as I did, one hand lightly on my head as I bobbed my head up and down. I wanted him to enjoy my mouth. I wanted to make him feel like he had died and gone to heaven. I wanted to give him the best fucking blowjob he had ever had in his life. He grunted and I could feel his hips tensing. I stopped. We stripped off the remainder of our clothing and I was naked. It hit me then that he was just the third guy who had ever seen me naked, and the first who was not my boyfriend. We kissed again. He ground his hardness against me. He reached between my legs and slid a finger inside me. I gasped. He felt how aroused I was, how bad I wanted him. He fingered me while we made out until I couldn't take it anymore. I stood to get a condom from my bag and slipped it on him. "Sigurado po kayo, ma'am?" he asked me. I didn't answer. This was it. I was going to let this man fuck me. I was scared, I was excited. I could stop now, but I didn't. I was going to take this stranger's penis into my vagina. I gripped him and guided him into my pussy. Fuck, he felt good inside me. We were moaning and gasping and grunting. I rode him hard, grinding my hips backwards and forwards, his hands on my waist, letting me take the lead. He was telling me how beautiful I was, how good I felt, how tight and wet and hot I was. I came. I rolled onto my back and he got on top of me and pumped into me, my arms and legs wrapped around him. I gasped, telling him to do me harder, faster. I begged him to cum for me. I remember seeing our reflection on the ceiling mirror, how incongrous we looked with his heavy bulk almost completely covering my slight frame. He groaned and I felt his cock throb inside me, and he emptied himself into the rubber. It lasted just a few minutes, but that was, without a doubt, the most intense sex I had ever had in my life. He pulled out of me. The sweetheart apologized for finishing so quickly, saying that I felt too good that he couldn't hold back, but assured me he could go again. I told him it was alright, that I loved it. We talked some more while he recovered. He told me that he never thought he would be able to have sex with someone like me. He asked me again why him, since I could had my pick of any guy more good looking, or with more money. I honestly didn't know what to answer, so I shrugged and said, "ayaw mo?" I was processing what happened myself. I definitely enjoyed it. The three orgasms I had proved it. He wasn't significantly bigger than my exes, and it wasn't the roughness of the sex that did it. I found myself wondering what my friends would say, what my parents would say if they could see me like this, right now, with him. We went one more time. I went down on him, getting him hard so we could go again. He went down on me, tasting me. We fucked. I'm a little bit embarassed by how loud I was. It was like a dam had burst inside me, and all of the dirty, obscene thoughts in my mind came flooding out my mouth. I told him to use me, to use my body, to use my pussy. He liked fucking me missionary or cowgirl, so he could watch me while I took my pleasure. I told him how big he felt inside me, how hard he was. I told him, loudly, as I was about to come, that he was making me come, and then, I came over and over again on his dick. After we had gone our separate ways, he sent me a message thanking him for a once in a lifetime experience. I told him that the pleasure was all mine. True to his word, he never messaged again. It took me several weeks to think about what I did. I'm not going to lie, I went through a period of shame which made me toss out the disposable SIM card I was using to message guys like him and delete my account on the site. In the end, I found myself realizing that there was absolutely nothing wrong with what I did \- we were both consenting adults, and nobody was going to be hurt. Why should I deny myself what I wanted? What makes him any different from any of the other guys I had been with before? Some people like abs and perfect teeth and white skin. I just happened to want something different. It was just sex, and it was good sex. In fact, he was even kinder and more decent than some of the other guys I knew from my circles. I realized that most of the dissonance I felt wasn't internal, but external. All of the judgement came from outside, when I myself was happy and content with what I did. It took me a few more weeks to get more comfortable with the fact that I wanted what I wanted, and I enjoyed it. But I was more content with the fact that the choice I made was one that I made for myself, without needing to worry about what anyone else thought or felt, and it was incredibly empowering for me.
