Shall we play?

Cliff was here for almost an entire month this time. I got to spend three whole weekends in a row with him. He leaves for home tomorrow and I can't stop thinking of that kiss he gave me on Monday morning as we said our goodbyes.

We'd taken a cab and I'd suggested that he take the front seat. Off the bat, I just thought that it would be easier for him to get out, as I didn't like sitting behind the driver when in the backseat. It wouldn'thave been such a big deal but I made the suggestion, he took it with a mild look of surprise on his face, and I got in the cab feeling a bit confused. It was only later that I realized that I was preparing myself for goodbye.

When I dropped him off, he got out and very deliberately opened the rear passenger door. He gave me a small kiss on the mouth and I surprised myself by just offering my face up to him for another kiss, which he gave. We said our goodbyes in voices pinched with pain.

I want to believe that I love this man, although there is very little romance in him. He's not very romantic -- unlike Freddie.

And that's where the problem lies. The first time Freddie and I laid eyes on one another, we just wanted to fuck each other. The sexual tension was that strong. Reminds me of Alanis Morissette's line:

"It's finding the love of your life/And meeting his beautfiul wife."

She did change "wife" to "husband" in a later album, though, for a more ironic twist, which she delivered after a wonderful pregnant pause. In any case, Freddie is just plain romantic. And what a flirt. He loves to flirt. But not with everyone. He picks the people he flirts with.

Freddie knows how to make a woman feel special. Cliff doesn't make me feel as special as Freddie does. So now, everytime Cliff and I make love, I can't help but imagine how it must feel having Freddie groaning and thrusting away at me instead. It gets me really excited thinking of Freddie, although it also gets me excited hearing Cliff moaning and groaning while I rock my pelvis back and forth, squeezing his cock tight in my pussy. I love the feel of cock sliding in and out of me like that and the more I do it with Cliff, the more I want to do it to Freddie.

I just want to straddle Freddie and ride on his cock long and hard. Myles thinks that the first time Freddie and I fuck, he'll explode within seconds of penetration. That's right. I haven't had Freddie. I don't think I ever will. He's just so damn religious, he's trapped in this paradigm of love everlasting, of eternal union between husband and wife. I don't want him as a husband; I just want to play.

I guess he's never heard of friends with benefits.

So do I love Cliff? I do. It's the kind of love that grows with time. And outlasts time. I don't want to trust this attraction to Freddie. It's so superficial. And the more I get to know stuff about Freddie (which isn't a big body of knowledge, really), the less I trust the attraction. I get this sneaky feeling that, once again, I'm falling for an image that I've drawn up in my head about the man, not the man himself.

For all of Freddie's charm and sex appeal, he's still the conservative, traditionalist Pinoy guy who wants his women just the way mom pictured it for him. And that is definitely not me. At least, with Cliff, I have the freedom to re-invent myself as often as I want.

It is, however, so thrilling that Freddie knows I'm not mom's ideal girl and he himself is thrilled by the fact that I am precisely that! He wants to be a bad boy and go for the bad girl. Oooh! That is soooo hot!

Like I said, I just want to play.