I Need Near Friends

Working for a French company gives me a huge amount of brooding time. My shift starts at twelve noon and ends at nine in the evening, which means , I can catch up with late night parties and still get a good dose of sleep before another day starts.

But that is not my case.

Although I have a flexible, almost always abused work  schedule, the parties aren't exactly trailing behind. You see, I am one geographically isolated queer guy. All my good, close, and best friends are -- in an estimate -- two hours drive away from where I am, traffic thrown.  They are all cramped up in the busy high-rise buildings of Makati, while I am lazily lagging, eyes droopy, in this quaint city of South Manila. They breathe parties while I breathe air with the smell of chicken dung.

So it is safe to say that my social life is as doomed as Chuck Bass in Gossip Girl's Princesses and the Frog episode.

Now if you are from the south, help me. I need a new near friend.

Sweet Innuendo

I can feel the throbbing sensation exciting me. A slight touch, and I squirm. I don't know how to keep myself from ever touching you again, because to me, it feels like you're calling, wanting, deliberately pleading for my warm finger tips.

As I look around to check for prying eyes, I slowly caressed you in front of the mirror. I see you're swollen red now and I couldn't be more excited. But I worry that maybe If I get too aggressive, I might induce an overflow of gooey liquid. So I whimper in soft moans, slowly massaging the sides of what appears like an enormous mass of circumferential entity.

Oh my dear swollen, bumpy zit, when will you be ripe enough for a harvest?