I had spent most of my Thursday at home, blogging.

I woke up at an obscene 9 am, only to find that it was impossible for me to fall back to sleep again.

I became darn hyperactive and was in a mood chirpy enough to want to blog non-stop, chat on MSN non stop too.

I blogged, and blogged, and blogged.

I think I blogged till I was out of my mind.

I ended up giving one of my church mates my URL for this blog after he asked for it.

Seriously, I don’t know if it’s a good move or not. *bites lip nervously*

When I finally gave up blogging and went to sleep, I didn’t quite want to do so.

But I had to, since I have to wake up early today.

I finally managed to finish blogging about 1 and 3/4 of the 3 days I spent in Sepang.

I saw the word count and fainted.

I don’t really want to traumastise you guys before the post comes up, you know.

Imagine the horror when I finally post the entire post, with the race day included.

*Shudders at thought*

I spent Wednesday going nowhere but staying home. Woke up too early too, and didn’t have the right amount of sleep I should be having.

I took a nap in the afternoon, and finally met up with Kenneth in the evening for the rehearsals for tonight.

It went well till 10 plus, though the jitters is now settling in.

I am tired.

I have not woke up after 12 noon for a week already, you know?

Best part?

Tonight’s the big night…. and the big day of Cat.

Congratulations Ben and Cat, you guys came a long way!

But you know what?

I am now puking and having a bad dose of sore throat.

Alright. Well done.

You know how rare it is for me to be down with sore throat?

I shall now try to hide those fatigue and drink lotsa honey water and take chunks of lozenges.

Or else, how to ask for higher ang pow money when the groom picked up the bride?

Or else, how am I going to be the emcee for tonight?

Or else, how am I going to finish the blog post which is already….. XXXX words long?

Okay.

Now I wonder…

Can I actually don’t wear makeup for the morning?

But gee, got to take picture you know?

Fine.

I am going.

Bye.

Great. I just realise, I have a stiff left neck as well.

I am so sure it’s gonna be a great day.

Wheeeeeee!

Yes, you.

Heh. Short one here.

Just a post to let you know…

I am grateful for your immense patience as you sat through my laments when I returned on Sunday.

I am thankful for the endless assuring cuddles.

I am overwhelmed by the ceaseless soothing kisses.

I am touched by the 3 hours phone call last night till this early morning.

Despite my distracted mind, it was one of the most enjoyable calls I ever had.

I am appreciative of your efforts to cheer me up.

I am relieved by your constant concern though you didn’t have to.

I am soothed by your tightening grasps.

I am really grateful for your presence.

A friend who was there. And everything more.

The pair of hands that dipped me deeper into your embrace when it was cold and uncertain.

The lips that pecked my forehead.

For your insistence to stay up just to cheer me up.

That baby voice that cracked me up when you chirped, ‘Hello sweetie!’ or gave a petty ‘Hmphf!’.

Those lame jokes that didn’t make sense, but were said just to take my minds off the loads.

For making the headache go away.

That tranquilizing, comforting intimacy.

For holding my hand tight and close to your chest.

I didn’t have to say much and you would somehow understand(or pretend to, muahaha).

You didn’t understand why females are so emotional, but you accepted it that way.

Your patience is admirable, you know?

That tender, sweet, babyish side. How cool.

For everything.

You were tired, but you dragged your arse out just because I was hungry, and had a harsh, emotional day.

Such a sweetie.

Now, stop your ego from inflating a tad too much, will ya? Before you spontaneously combusted from that.

And no, I ain’t gonna thank you for all the kinky stuffs. Not in this post, anyway.

*Hug*

*Muack*

Gee. So mushy.

Oh, just in case you are too much a himbo to realise…

Yes, it’s you, Mr SBB.

(Edited parts in red)

Seriously, this post isn’t supposed to come in first.

I didn’t even intend to get myself into such a meme. But after reading Vamptress and Jane Doe’s version of ‘I am that blogger..’ meme, I was somehow stirred.

I started with my post for the MotoGP, but the grim and grey in my mind clouded me a tad too much.

The post lost its lustrous, as I typed, half-heartedly.

It wouldn’t do the experience justice, I thought.

And suddenly, I am in a flood of tears, again.

And, maybe, just maybe, this post is supposed to come in first.

***

I am the baby who was the fruit of that forbidden affair.

I am the baby who was borned in a clinic, where they were asked if they would want to give me up for a sum. They didn’t.

I am the baby who was borned with a neck defect, whose dad refused to acknowledge at birth. Or so she said.

I am the baby she held dearly in her arms, (darn, I am already sobbing here. Ha!) brought door to door, as she begged relatives to chip in for my physiotherapy cos he had heartlessly refused to help.

I am the baby whom he grew to love and adore.

I am the baby who should be a Singaporean, not a Malaysian. If only, yes, if only, he had given her a status.

I am the baby, I was the girl, I am the lady, who is still, illegitimate.

I am the baby, she said, that should have never been born.

I am the baby, she said, that ruined her life.

I am the baby, to the other family, who is denied.

I am the baby, her only hope, her only fear, her only dependence, her only control, her only fight for dignity..

I am the girl whom she slapped across the face as a reminder that she was a mistake.

I am the girl whom she kicked as a reminder that she was ugly.

I am the girl whom she caned mercilessly because she didn’t get first in class.

I am the girl whom she used a hot iron on.

I am the girl whom she used anything she could grab hold of on.

I am the girl whom she used a knife to cut.

I am the girl who was afraid. Very afraid.

I am the girl who missed him whenever he wasn’t around.

I am the girl she was jealous of, cos I managed to get the attention she couldn’t get.

I am the girl whose mind was poisoned, cos she wanted me to hate him as much as she did.

I am the girl she hated seeing. I looked too much like him.

I am the girl who sat at the side of the bed, clinging on to her, as he poured kerosene onto the mattresses…

I am the girl who stood between them, as they jostled each other. I stood there, crying, yelling for them to stop.

I am the girl who crept up in the middle of the night, to slide my 5 year-old fingers underneath her pillow, to get the knife/scissors away from her.

I am the girl who saw him beating her, raining punches on her.

I am the girl who was constantly alone. He was busy with other women. She was busy with mahjong.

I am the girl, who was called Tingting on good days, but chao chee bye on most other.

I became the girl who abhorred that 3 words, refused myself the rights to use them, only because, I didn’t, and don’t want to be like her.

But, I did. That day, couple of years ago, when I could stand her no more, and shouted that 3 words, in full angst. My guilt stayed.

I am the girl, who endured humiliating slaps in public, just because, she couldn’t stand the sight of me.

I am the girl, she brought to the shop he owned, so I could witness him and her together, that I would hate him more.

I am the girl, who always loved him more, because he never beared to lay a finger on me.

I am the girl, he carried on his back to the hospital, when I was down with high fever one night.

I am the girl, who was raised like a boy, cos his own boy still refused to acknowledge him till this very day.

I am the girl, who loved remote control cars, transformers, and fire engines.

I am the girl, who wanted to be a teacher because the only person who was ever nice to her, is Mrs Leng.

I am the girl, who chipped my front teeth when playing hide and seek with him, and was fearful to death to tell her the truth.

I am the girl, she never hugged.

I am the girl, he would carry and piggyback, even though I was a 1.65m 12 year-old.

I am the baby, the girl, the apple of his eyes.

I am the girl who loved to perform and sing for my relatives.

I am the girl, who started school without understanding a single word of English.

I am the girl whom she starved to memorise the 1 x 1 to 10 x 10 table. I knelt for hours until I was able to memorise it.

I am the girl, who was 4th in class, the 3 guys who excelled before her, became the competition, for the rest of her life.

I am the girl, who asked for her bridal photographs ignorantly when I was a kid.

I am the girl, who was queer. I was talkative in class, yet refused to mouth a word to her when I got home.

I am the girl, who grew up knowing something was wrong, when a cousin’s friend in his 20s came to play with her, lifting her up into the air, and slid down his body as he put her down back onto the ground. As a 4 year-old, she remembered something was hard.

I am the girl, who refused to be the last to be sent home by school bus, cos I saw, the bus driver’s flashing at me. She would say it was my fault, I had believed, thus, I lived in constant shame, until when I was 18, before I finally told anyone. For rest of the couple of years of my primary school days, I didn’t change the bus driver.

I am the girl, who saw her nursing his wounds after he was bashed up by his lover’s new lover.

I am the girl who nearly lost him, when he came down with a near-fatal heart attack when I was 12.

I am the girl who nearly lost her, when she found a large lump in her womb when I was, 12, too.

I am the girl, who had attention disorder, who was constantly depressed, yet, everyone could only deem her weird.

I am the girl, whom she kicked across the face for no reason. The dislocated jaw never healed.

I am the girl, who was drove to the brink of insanity because of her mother’s thirst for results.

I am the girl, who could never see light. The cousins pushed my head down to hide at the back of the car, when they saw the woman who was supposed to be my father’s wife.

I am the girl, who would look on to the neighbours having their share of fun, but was an outcast cos I was ugly and she would scream at them for playing with me.

I am the girl, they pointed fingers at, to laugh, to mock, to make sure I heard them.

I am the girl, they ostracised, cos I was ugly.

I am the girl, they used to ‘traumatise’ the guys, by linking me to them, was an embarrassment enough to make them cringe.

I am the girl, who wanted the companionship of other kids, but never gotten any.

I am the girl, who saw them fought, threatening to kill each other, each holding a knife.

I am the girl, who saw her wailing for her dead parents, and she said she would bring me together with her to meet them.

I am the girl, who swallowed lotsa pain killers with Tiger beer when she threatened to kill herself. Yet, she forced it out of me.

I am the girl, who sat on the window sills, hoping God would take me home.

I am the girl, who saw blood on the floor when I came home one day. I shouted for them, no one answered. I heaved a sigh of relief when I realised no one was at home, cos they most probably would be on the floor if they were.

I am the girl, who lived in constant fear that I would one day walk into a house filled with 2 bloody corpses on the floor.

I am the girl who screamt at the police when they called back, after I slammed down the phone when she called for them.

I am the girl, who smirked at the policemen when they dropped by, refusing to give my statements. I laughed in their faces, telling them they might as well stick around till they kill each other so I wouldn’t have to call them.

I am the girl, who laughed, when it was painful.

I am the girl, who sneered at him, when he begged her not to go away, just because, in his words, ‘to give him face’ when the police were around.

I am the girl, who was doubted in school, cos the story was too absurd for them to believe.

I am the girl, who had emotional issues, too much for people in school to deal with.

I am the girl, who cut her hair off in a fit of anger.

I am the girl, that friend molested when I had trusted him so.

I am the girl, who was hurt again, when he had yet another affair.

I am the girl, who planned to leave the country, after finding out the other woman sabotaged my mother’s stay in Singapore.

I am the girl who was their weapons to hurt each other.

I am the girl who refused to cry in front of her anymore. Yet, the tears will come freely whenever she’s not around.

I am the girl, who is no longer fearful of pain. The only respond was that of a cold, icy stare. Without a hint of emotion.

I am the girl, who could only be broken by words. And yes, that she knew, and that she did. Ugly, useless, your friends will all leave you cos you are stupid.

I am the girl, who ended up believing in every word she said.

I am the girl, who yearned for his protection, but he was never around.

I am the girl, shrimped up in a corner, hugging my knees to my chest, with a book in front of me, tears flowing freely, feeling afraid, cos the pressure was just too great.

I am the girl who tore up all my books, page by page, cos of the stress.

I am the girl, who found her dark side when she flipped the school desk when fighting with a male classmate.

I am the girl, who ran away from home, because I didn’t want to be the one witnessing their deaths.

I am the girl, who she bruised severely, so I could be the butt of all jokes as a teenager.

I am the girl, who yearned for acceptance.

I am the girl, who loved, yet hated everyone.

I am the girl, who was hurt by her words one day, that I grabbed her by her wrist, threatening to hit her back.

I am also the girl, who would wrapped my young body around her, so that the blows he rained would not hurt her.

I am the girl, who cried, when I knew she could no longer stay in Singapore. She was banned.

I am the girl, who realised, I had never really hated her.

I am the girl, who healed from my wounds and injuries. No physical scars are visible.

But, all the emotional scars are obvious.

I am the young lady who yearned for love.

I am the young lady who fell for him at a chalet 10 years ago, only to sleep with him 10 years later(no, we didn’t have sex) to feel more hurt than ever.

I am the woman who slept with him, who kissed him, knowing he has a 5-year old relationship. Yes, Mr KG and I, has a history of a decade.

I am the slut, he thought was too complicated for him.

I am the other woman, who tainted your relationship.

I am the young lady who believed in everyone, only to realise the harshness of reality.

I am the young lady who dreamed to change the world to a better place.

I am the young lady who believed in ideals, who believed in people, who believed in integrity, and then lost them all along the way.

I am the woman who hurt, and was hurt, along the way.

I am the lady who lacked self-esteem.

I am the lady who looked into the mirror and wished she had a penknife to slice into that hideous flesh.

I am the lady who fulfilled my dream as a teacher, but realised my hands are tied to change the system.

I am the lady who has an ugly heart.

I am the lady who was never your threat.

I am the woman who went deep into depression, that I started cutting myself.

I am the woman who no longer cry.

I am the woman, after one day of intense partying, got home to feel extremely empty, and there I sat, cutting myself, to make myself ‘feel’ again.

I am the woman, who finally could cry, after seeing the blood ran.

I am the woman, who is supposed to go for a checkup every half a year to make sure the cancer cells doesn’t come back, but is too fearful to do so.

I am the woman, who wanted to mellow the angry man I met.

I am the woman, who wanted to sooth his bruised ego with gentle ways.

I am the woman, who was taken granted for.

I am the woman, he grew to love.

I am the woman, he grew to hate.

I am the woman, who slapped him, because I didn’t want to cry in front of him.

I am the woman, he hurt with his self-righteous lies.

I am the woman, who he refused to touch nor stay around with, cos I was upsetting his faith.

I am the woman, whom he denied, cos he deemed I was the root of his sins.

I am the woman, who he said wasn’t good enough, and that he deserved better.

I am the woman, he refused to listen to.

I am the woman, who loved him, deeply.

I am the woman, whom he was fearful of.

I am the woman, who slapped him, umpteen times, when he deemed her possessed by demons, and he shouted tongues and prayers into her face ferociously in a bid to exorcise her.

I am the woman, who drove away the man I thought I would some day marry.

I am the woman, who was killed by my own insecurities.

I am the woman, whom he ignored, so that I could turn to nowhere but to Christ.

I am the woman, who cried to God to take her away so all the pain would end.

I am the woman, who owes God for her life. He had pulled her through the most excruciating time.

I am the woman, who constantly disappoint God, and is too ashamed to love Him.

I am the woman who couldn’t deal with the truth.

I am the woman, who found it painful to love him.

I am the woman, he finally left, when I had really wanted to put in everything to work it out.

I am the woman, who was afraid of the world.

I am the woman, who refused to face the world.

I am the woman, who clammed up in my own world.

I am the woman, who hated, and still hate, my looks.

I am the woman, who no longer believes in happiness.

I am the woman, who is fearful of happiness, cos everything, would one day slip away. Thus, I sabotage my own happiness, whenever possible.

I am his secret.

I am the woman, who laughs, when I actually do feel like crying.

I am the woman, who yearns for a home. A place to belong to.

I am the slut, who was once charmed by him, despite he is already married with kids.

I am the slut, who is remembered by him.

I am the slut, who was traumatised.

I am the woman who never believes anyone could ever love me.

I am the woman who make-believe to make days easier.

I am the woman who hid in my own fantasy world, so I could be detached from the reality. It is in my own world, do I feel safest.

I am the woman, who is trapped in a girl. I am also the girl, trapped in a woman.

I am the woman, who deny myself the rights to be a woman. It is too threatening and frightening to be one.

I am the woman, who has forgotten how is it like to be loved.

I am the woman, who just want to feel loved, even if it’s faked.

I am the woman, who just want to love, with returns, or not.

I am the woman, who lives with passion.

I am the woman, who is stuck because of some predicament people would never understand.

I am the woman who is sick of people asking why is she unemployed, when this is not what she wants at all.

I am the woman who would cry and laugh with you. Walking you through the darkest days.

I am the woman who wants to be heard, to be understood, to be accepted.

I am the woman, who is slowly trying to come to terms with herself.

I am the woman, who is constantly in a furious search for genuinity.

I am the woman, who wishes she doesn’t feel that much, doesn’t see that much, and doesn’t know that much. Being intelligent may not be a good thing.

Yes, you might not know. I am the woman who has higher intelligence than the normal mass. It’s not obvious I know.

I am the woman, who plays bimbo, cos it is less painful that way. Or so I thought.

I am the woman of extremes.

I am the woman, constantly waiting.

I am the woman, who wants to shave bald.

I am the woman, who still resides in darkness.

I am the woman, who still wants to abuse herself, cos I believe, this is what she deserves.

I am the woman, who has much more dramatic moments in her life, that it is almost impossible.

I am the woman, who is in constant denial.

I am the woman, who wants to believe, and I do. But no, I don’t want to, and I don’t.

I am the woman, who is quirky, who is different.

I am the woman, who is constantly drifting cos staying is too much a risk for her.

I am the woman, who misses her girl pal. Yes you, Clar.

I am the woman, who is afraid of people around her, that she pushes everyone around her away, so she would be the first to leave.

I am the woman, who is afraid to be the last to leave.

I am the angel who wants to be a demon.

I am the demon who wants to be an angel.

I am the woman, who feels you.

I am the woman who most love to hate, hate to love.

I am the woman who sought constant approval, yet could never stop doubting them.

I am the woman who adores compliments, but could never believe in them whole-heartedly.

I am the woman, easily broken by words.

I am the woman, who might never be a mother.

I am the woman, who is trapped in the webs of the past.

I am the woman, who is fragile, yet strong.

I am the woman, who cries, but will eventually smile.

I am the woman he slept with today.

I am the woman who had just wanted to be his friend.

I am the woman, who is comfortable with who I am around him.

I am the woman who enjoys his company.

I am the woman who sees a child in him.

I am the woman people complicated. I am just a simple girl with more intense emotions, that’s all.

I am the friend who cares, but stings.

I am the woman who will remember each and everyone of you.

I am the woman who was afraid to walk down Orchard, cos she deemed herself too ugly to be allowed in the public.

I am the woman they wanna shagged, but didn’t want to know.

I am the woman who wants to be kissed, cuddled, touched, desired, appreciated.

I am the woman who wants to be known for who she really is.

I am the bitch who judged.

I am the bitch who rants.

I am the woman who is either immensely shy, or overwhelming daring.

I am the woman who believes I am not a slut.

I am the woman who called her a slut when her words pricked. Useless and a whore, she said.

I am the woman who blamed him for not giving her a status for her unemployed predicament.

I am the woman who is too tired to go on.

I am the woman, who sometimes fear when he is sitting there motionless, sleeping. I would call for him, to make sure he is still breathing.

I am the woman, who fears for her sanity. She had gotten depression when she was banned from entering Singapore again recently.

I am the woman, who wants to think of her welfare, if one day he were to leave her.

I am the woman, with too much fear.

I am the woman who cried secretly, when he left the house to her name, just in case he were to be gone tomorrow.

I am the brat who got a Rolex for birthday, and a Gucci bag for present when I asked for.

I am the woman, who grew confused. Did they love her, or hate her?

I am the woman who hurt him, when I accused him for ruining his life, and MY life with his frivolous ways.

I am the woman who hurt her, when she called me a waste, I retaliated by calling her a cheap marriage-wrecker, who is nothing more than a mistress.

I am the woman who threatened to jump over the parapet, and someone called the police.

I am the woman who showed them that they failed as parents, when the police, SCDF, and CID came.

I am the woman who still screams at her whenever she calls to voice her suspicion that he is seeing other women. For Christ’s sake, he is already 64.

I am the woman, who is in fact, just a little girl, looking for her lost childhood.

I am the woman, who finally hugged her, on my 24th birthday.

I am the woman, who still wants that part of her innocence.

I am the woman, who gets fearful of competition.

I am the woman, who is such a failure.

I am the woman, who could never be who she wants me to be. A scholar.

I am the woman, who could never be who he wants me to be. A graduate.

I am the woman, perhaps, who doesn’t want to be who they want me to be. To rebel, to hurt them. To deprive them of things they want so they could feel the pain.

I am the woman, who owe them for who I am today.

I am the woman, who lost 2 friends along the way, and had never had the chance to make up for the regrets in life.

I am the woman, who missed a coffee session with Guangyang, when he was already waiting for me at a nearby coffeeshop,which would have been the last time I would see him alive.

I am the woman, who didn’t clear up the misunderstanding, to tell Shubin he is a friend I had always adore.

I am the brat, who lost a friend in Junlong, cos I maxed out his tolerance level with my stubborn way, just because, as O levels neared, she told me, none of my friends are true to me, and would despise me. I sabotaged the friendship.

I am the woman, who loves a lot of my friends, but am too afraid to keep in contact, fearing I am more of a burden than anything else.

I am the woman, who is just like many people out there, with issues, which on retrospect, is nothing too major.

I seriously think so. Everyone has issues, some much bigger than I have, just that they are too embarrassed, or feel it’s too personal to be sharing. I believe everyone of us goes through all of the above once in a while.

I am the woman, who loves her mother.

I am the woman, who loves her dad.

I am the woman, who is ugly.

Freaking ugly.

I am a woman, who deserves nothing.

All I am, is a daughter, who wants to tell them, I do love them.

Very much.

And yes, I am that woman you saw right next to Max Biaggi the other day. -cough-

Muahahaha.

Sorry, more should be included, but I am just too drained to go on.

And I am the woman, who loves the women around me, cos they had made me come to terms with who I am, and giving me the support to deal with whatever thrown my way these days.

I have the habit of loading my pictures to blogger before cutting and pasting them into my blog.

80 pictures for the next post, which I selected from 150 that I took on the trip.

Am I out of my mind or what?

It has been an emotional morning.

Spent a good half of it crying after reading this from VampTreSS.

It finally released the pent up emotions after reading Jane Doe’s late last night.

The mind replayed many past images, and strangely, some are more vivid than the others.

I then wonder if those are the things that hurt the most, and should be included in the meme, if I ever plucked the courage to do it.

I thought of someone, and I sobbed. Some friend I adore lots, but never met.

I don’t know if she is still reading me, but yeah, I thought of her, and it pretty much stung.

I don’t like to feel all jello-mellow again.

As I laid on the bed, with the heavy breathing of SBB as he was deep in slumber, I snuggled up close and could feel the assuring tightening grip.

He sensed my sudden need for a cuddle, and his arms wrapped a tad more snugly.

I could feel an arm sliding up and down my back, stroking it.

Despite his unconsciousness and his unawaring comfort, it was great relief, and soothed.

I just hugged him, and cried.

And cried.

And some of visual snippets from their blogs haunt me.

And then, coupled by the visual snippets from the past.

Even those deep in recessions, from tender ages.

Suddenly, they became real and vivid again.

Ouch.

Who cares.

I shall still bask in the delight of my trip.

And indulge in the cuddles of SBB for the time being.

Ciao.

Having a splitting headache since I reached home around 2am last night.

It didn’t go away.

Slept at 5 plus and it was bad.

Woke up at 11 plus and it was still bad.

Now, it’s still bad.

Not sure if 20, 000 words would be enough to illustrate my trip this time.

But, hopefully, the pictures(shit loads of them) would be helpful with the account.

Till then, catch the repeat telecast of MotoGP at 5pm, Channel 24 on SCV, StarSports today.

Monday, 26 September 2005.

(Parental Guidance advised. Anal individuals need not bother.)

It’s a riot out there. Storm and everything.

Took one to rouse me awake at 12.45pm.

Am afraid.

***

What did I lament about McDonald’s the last time round?

I hereby declare they have the best service in the world(until they screw up their service again, that is), after my incredibly pleasant transaction with the fastfood giant yesterday morning.

I called in at 9.48am, and hung up at 9.50am, right after the conclusion to my previous yawn-inducing entry.

45 minutes, I was told to wait.

I had a quick shower, and was contemplating of leaving the house to run a tiny errand(well, was thinking of picking up something as a lame surprise to perk someone up) when I heard the door bell rang.

I skipped to the door and was surprised to see a fair, fresh, chiselled-face chap grinning cheerfully at me, brightening my day.

Young chap, looking surprised that I was at the door before he got to the unit.

I greeted him with my usual wide-eyed bimbotic grin, and immediately regretted the decision.

I hadn’t taken my retainers off.

*Silently pounding my heart in anguish*

He innocently grinned back and wore this cartoonish, animated look on his smooth, flawless face.

A tad geeky, a tad blur.

He clumsily juggled the orders after removing them from the heat-protector cautiously, as he stretched them out to me.

I balanced everything skillfully, before passing him 17 bucks for the 16.50 purchase.

He was so darn cute(like a kid) that I told him to keep the change.

That sunshine smile that litted his good-boy face prompted me to chuckle.

I am such a paedophile.

I shall have McBreakfast, everyday, from this day forth.

I mean, they don’t even require any minimal purchase, ya know?

Twenty-four-seven.

What could beat that?

Take this.

The delivery reached my doorstep at 9.05am.

Holy molly moo moo cow. 15 minutes!

***

I hurried up the overhead bridge. It was just 5 minutes after I had settled the breakfast on the table.

Bought it, hurried home.

***

10 minutes later, the screaming house phone was silenced with a quick lift of the speaker.

‘I’m here already sweetie,’ he announced.

I placed down the receiver to its slot, threw on a pair of slippers, and skipped down to the lift lobby in glee.

***

He had a hard day, and was evidently preoccupied with his fast and furious train of thoughts.

The almost 6 hours of phone call was fine to start with as we meddled with the webcam.

The hilarious part was when he asked me to call him back at 4.30am and the doofus fumbled with the phone and his sleepy mom got to the phone first instead.

We both had a gasp of horror over MSN, and I cringed not knowing if I should speak or not.

I did anyway.

The call was almost excruciating to start with as his cluttered mind made him a pretty distracted and unwilling conversationalist.

But I suppose, he didn’t quite want to go off the line either.

Somehow, conversations went on, and I would attempt to break the silence and asking what was on his mind.

Not much success. Hurhurhur.

It came to a part when it was awkward and evolved into a grumpy talk.

The conversation rubbed him off the wrong way and he quite frankly admitted he was slightly pissed off, in the same soothing way, without a hint of anger, but just a slight hue of annoyance with was almost unnoticeable.

I stayed silent.

He asked if I was offended.

I then honestly admitted that I wasn’t really wanting to get myself into more trouble by saying the wrong things just in case what I say is wrong, and would rather remain quiet.

One thing about me I let known. I would totally avoid a situation altogether even though it might be a factor of the situation that contributes to an unpleasant moment, rather than the situation itself.

So, I would rather not talk, not because I was offended, but because I simply clammed up and find it hard to.

I can be quite insensitive at times to overlook my lack of tact.

I replied without an ounce of hurt, matter-of-factly.

How brutally honest.

Somehow, I was rather amused, and taken aback(in a good way) by that upfrontness of both parties, but yet, was totally appreciative of it.

Quaint, but I like.

I mean hey, it’s cool I can say what I feel, no?

I think I am a tad SM-ish.

Muahahaha.

Somehow, it smoothed the edges and we went on to have a much more interactive and fruitful talk as he finally let rip what was on his thoughts.

***

It was late 9 in the morning when he suggested we met up for breakfast with a friend’s of his, who unfortunately, wasn’t up yet.

After not knowing where we wanted to head for a meal, he suggested the golden arch, but it would take him a while to get ready, and we might miss the breakfast time when he finally reached.

Thus, he would meet me at mine’s instead, and we would call for delivery.

Wheee.

Hot cakes! Big Breakfast! McMuffin!

I had been craving for these for the longest time.

But er, hot cakes or big breakfast?

***

Gave the grumpy one an assuring cuddle and the customary greeting peck on the lips when I was at the lift lobby to get him at the door.

The restless me paced around the room and passed him his treat.

Ironically, as I was sitting right before the monitor, he placed a bottle of citrus right before me, knowing I am about to finish my bottle soon.

I sniggered at the irony of it.

***

‘That’s mine!‘ I exclaimed excitedly as he removed the yellow-top styrofoam box from the package.

As I glanced at the next box with the white top with even greater anticipation(I wasn’t sure if I was grinning or salivating), I was sheepish enough to suppress an eager ‘That’s mine TOO!‘.

‘Why? This is yours also, right?‘ he raised his brow, gave me a mocking look, as he exposed my ploy.

I smiled triumphantly like a contended little girl as I indulged in my big breakfast AND hotcakes amidst the daze I was experiencing due to the lack of sleep.

I shall not mention how I stole bites from his McMuffin with egg, too.

The sky suddenly shaded down as we heard low, soft rambles outside.

The hall toned down as we sat on the floor for breakfast, and I felt my concentration slipping away with each increasing bite.

Except when he leaned in to smooch me on my greasy mouth, that is.

As he placed his head on my shoulder as he waited for me to finish my 2 portions of breakfast, the inclination to rest my head on his and doze off right there was almost too great.

Until I felt the tickling sensation sending chills down my spine when he traced his fingers over my earlobes, sliding and skimming down the sides of my neck…

Honestly, the signals sent to my nervous system, felt darn good.

Anyway, I am not surprised with my weight gain.

Eat, sleep, eat, sleep.

How healthy.

And no sweetie, I wasn’t grumpy. I was really, in a sleepy daze.

The weather, the food, and a giant pillow. How could I not be drowsy? Hurhurhur.

***

I simply adore it when there is someone to snuggle upclose to when the weather is threatening, like that of today, and yesterday.

Pure bliss, I tell you.

So, it was no surprise that right after breakfast, we jumped into the bed immediately for… a nap.

Had been a long day.

We finally fell asleep in a tight embrace, after some smooching, pecking, cuddling, and picking on which side I wanna sleep on.

I burrowed into his neck, rested my head on his right shoulder, threw an arm round his midriff, and cross one leg onto his as if he was a giant bolster as he planted a firm kiss on my lips.

The weather rustled on.

Mmm.. nice.

I didn’t care if I snore or something.. cos.. I.. was.. simply.. snoozing.. off inrecordseconds.

***

When I woke up the next time round, I was covered in sweat and felt his bare body sticking to mine.

Blackout.

@^#&#&%#$#!

I think I mentioned somewhere before that no matter how hot the weather is, and even if there’s a blackout, I would still need to be covered by my blanket.

So I was sweating bucket, yet sleeping on at the same time cos I was just too tired.

I could vaguely remember I was partly embarrassed to be a sticky mess to be hugged, but I was in too much a trance to mind that fact to pull myself away.

Until later. When he got too warm and sticky too.

Muahahaha.

When the power was resumed, I could hear him stir and reaching out for the remote control.

Alas, the stubborn air-conditioner refused to work well and was working meekly, and we continued to be baked.

Somehow, we managed to sleep on till late 3pm, before we finally succumbed to the heat and the fact that we had to get ready to head out.

Blardy hot.

He got up for a shower, whilst I lazed in bed, covered in sweat, for a little while more.

Finally, I dragged myself out of the bed and he offered me a lift to town since I would be meeting up with the girlies for the evening.

Raf called to ask about the trip, as well as details for the meetup.

SBB got his revenge when he suddenly pinned me down whilst I was on the phone, impaled his tongue into my mouth forcefully, with the intention to distract me from my call, and thus, I would be unable to respond to Raf.

Raf wondered why I was muffled and “Mmm”-ing down the phone.

Then, he suddenly charged for my feet, grabbed me by the ankle, and tickled the sole of my foot violently.

Yesh, that’s something I am fearful of, most.

I screamt down my phone, and I could almost hear Raf raising her brow over the phone.

Darling, it really wasn’t what you thought it was.

Fretting over what to wear has been my main concern these days.

***

I was frustrated over the silly air-conditioner which wasn’t warming the room enough.

I thought it was spoilt and gave it a tongue-lashing.

I lifted my head, gave it an annoyed stare, and started reprimanding it.

‘How could you do this to me?! You can’t be spoilt! This is so not right…!’

Little did I realise, someone was standing right at the door, looking at me incredulously, and burst out into laughters of disbelief.

Puzzled, I asked, ‘What’s so funny?!‘

‘Sweetie, this is unbelievable, you’re talking to the darn air-con!‘

‘What’s wrong? Everyone does that! Especially girls, no? Didn’t you watch Ally Mcbeal?‘

He looked at me as if I was the world’s largest weirdo and replied, ‘Sweetie, with my vast experience with ladies, I have never seen one who’s like that. And Ally McBeal is a exaggerated TV show.‘

‘Hmph. They tried too hard to please you and kept that side hidden in the dark just because they would expect such reaction from you,’ I justified, though secretly cringing that I shouldn’t have let rip that kooky side of me.

Over dinner with the ladies, I asked all of them, and they all agreed they are all like that.

Sigh. What can I say? All my pals are aliens.

But, I am sure you have spoke to your handphone/computer/gadgets and scolded it or coaxed it with sweet-nothings just to get it work, no?

Tell me I am not weird.

***

I am bored of my wardrobe and I don’t seem to look right in anything I don.

Especially when my clothes are all strewn across this spare room of mine, which is an outright mess.

SBB came into the messy room as I brainstormed over the choice of garments.

He slid his arms round my waist from behind, turned me over and pulled me in closer. A kiss slowly ignited, picking up its pace as it progressed.

Hands started roaming with all the fondling and touching.

His phone suddenly rang, and disrupted the moment.

I was kneeling on the floor when he was on the phone… to pick out a top from the basket full of clothes.

If I were to write in the trashy novel fashion in which some of you guys are looking forward to, am I supposed to write something like:

His sudden emergence into the spare room was announced when I felt a pair of sturdy arms enveloping me from the back, with the soft touch of his fingers resting on my chest, running down into my top.

I turned around and his tongue greeted me, probing into my mouth, slowly and gently as the roaming and groping hands pick up their paces.

One of his hands halted for a moment, as he reached down to his belt, unbuckling it.

It wasn’t long before his jeans came undone, and a pair of arms were placed on my shoulders as a guide to where he wanted me to be.

I slithered down his body onto my knees, kissing his toned abs, before stretching my tongue to gently lick the mass before me.

The lips wrapped round it, as I felt it slid down to the recesses of the back of my throat.

The phone rang, and he didn’t hesitate to pick it up, clearly wanting me to continue as he spoke to his buddy on the phone.

As he hung up with a thrilling smile to his friend’s unawareness, I glanced up with a cheeky stare as if sharing the private joke.

It didn’t take long before my gag reflexes was put to a test as I finished the job with a click of tongue, a lick of my lips, and a smirk intact.

*Cough*

Muahahaha.

***

As I took a while to get ready, he was slightly late and was rushing for time.

The bike picked up speed as it penetrated between snailing cars and trucks.

The ride to Bugis in the tight traffic was a horrendous one, I tell you.

5.30pm, peak hour, on AYE.

It finally came to a stop before Bugis junction as he dropped me off, and it was one last cuddle exchange with the sweetie at the roadside.

For the week, before I get to see him again after my trip.

***

Raf called last minute to inform me that she couldn’t make it to town.

She eventually called to say that she would still meet up with me.

Finicky Feline was down with a bout of laziness and would not be joining us.

VampTreSS said she would meet up at 7, which prompted me and Raf to do a quick calculation that it would mean around 8 instead.

Jane Doe said she would be joining us close to 9.

Eventually, I reached at 6pm.

Raf 6.45pm.

Vamp 7.55pm.

Jane Doe was held up and reached around 10 plus.

Raf and I shopped around and I just couldn’t seem to find anything to my liking.

We finally fell for a pair of Project Shop slippers which was on 10% sale.

When Vamp finally reached, we had planned to go for dinner, when we saw that some people were doing some survey for researches, and were giving out 15 bucks to whoever volunteers to do the survey.

Being the cheapos curious people we are, the 3 of us didn’t hesitate to offer our valuable insights to the survey.

Our dinner was thus, sponsored.

Yay.

***

I was mistaken for sulking throughout the night because of the leftover daze/sleepiness from the earlier part of the day.

Why are you sulking?

SBB asked that in the morning.

Raf asked when she met up with me.

Vamp asked that too over dinner.

I have a natural sulk, how about that?

Dinner with the ladies were fun as usual, especially with the sharing of informations on….. *cough* miniature manhood sizes, and how to go about testing the package in case you get unsatisfactory goods.

Guys, beware. I have learnt how a girl could *cough* test the package by pretending to arouse you guys with all the groping, when in actual fact, different strokes of gropes may mean they are either checking out the length/thickness/circumference(I have no idea if they could check circumcised or not though).

Evil, evil.

It was good to see Jane Doe all well after her accident couple of days ago.

The girls had the honour to see my ran-out patience with my mom when I raised my voice over the phone, which wasn’t exactly a nice sight I was proud of.

I would have kept it cold and silent if she hadn’t touched on THAT particular subject, which was triggered by her paranoia.

The previous time she did that was years ago.

I have no idea what’s with the love-hate relationship with her, cos I was all cool and remorseful when dad brought back a tub of birds’ nest brewed by her today.

She’s such an expert at emotional blackmail. Hmph.

But it works wonder, nonetheless.

***

Dad picked me up at 11, dropped me home to drop my helmet and stuffs, before making a quick trip to endorse my passport.

It was 12.30am when I finally got home, bushed and all.

Had one of my earliest night when I finally hit the sack at 2.30am.

***

Recently, I came to know about a friend whom I very recently blogged about being deemed frivolous and mistaken for cheating on his girlfriend just because of his antics.

All he did was kissing girls on their cheeks and giving them a tight embrace as a goodbye gesture.

Hmm, though I might not know the friend well, but then the names he was branded with, wasn’t too pleasant, and was a tad too harsh.

But, I could verify that such exchange of smooches on the cheeks and a friendly embrace is pretty common especially for someone who is bred overseas.

Unfortunately, his justification wasn’t well received, and an unfair picture was painted, accusing him having a ‘weak defense’.

The time when I was out with him for a quick catch up, with a huge entourage of people, he too, gave a swift, yet firm and solid smacker on my right cheek, before circling his arms round me for a sturdy goodbye embrace right in front of them, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

He too, offered one of the guys a tight, smothering hug as he bade him goodbye.

When we were moving into an eatery, his arm was placed slightly on my back to guide me along, or the time he would place his arm lightly behind to lean in to listen to what I say, all were done in a gentlemanly way.

It was all friendly, and something I was familiar with, with overseas pals.

So, I don’t see what’s the big deal with what everyone had been saying.

Just simply, unfair.

***

Though scheduled to leave for KL tomorrow morning, our accomodation is still not yet settled.

We might end up staying at the hotel my church went for church camp last year, where the MotoGP organisers(not the teams) are putting up at.

Paolo very nicely asked if we had our accomodation booked, which we gave a negative answer.

Guess what? He booked one room for us under the company’s name, and we managed to get a room of discounted rate, like what they are paying for!

Yay.

He thought we would be flying down and even offered to pick us up at the airport, to the track, and would drive us back to hotel in the evening once we reached KL tomorrow late noon.

Since the hotel would not be near to the track, we would be travelling to the track on the weekend together with the Italian staffs for MotoGP.

Yay yay.

At least we wouldn’t be so directionless like the previous time with accomodation and transport settled.

*Beams*

I am hoping nothing will go wrong.

Cos I shall not mention how on my first ever trip to MotoGP, I realised I had forgotten my wallet(with all my Ringgits and Singapore dollars in it) when I was in Johor.

Luckily back then, there’s a bank named POB. Philip Ong bank, who loaned me some to tide the trip over.

***

Dragged my booty out of the house at 5.30pm today and did some quick shopping by myself.

Looking my worst, swerving in and out of the human traffic in the after-work crowd.

Have you ever felt that you feel invisible when you are looking your worst as if no one would notice how bad you look but yet when you tend to feel the whole world is critical of you when you dress up and sashay down the streets?

Ah well.

I did major damages to my wallet though.

Sigh.

This so, shouldn’t happen especially I should save all my moolah for KL.

Then again, I feel like NOT spending at all in KL.

Perhaps it would be possible since we would just be shuttling between the track and the hotel for Saturday and Sunday.

Paolo did suggest having dinner with him and the other company staffs tomorrow after they return from track though.

We have yet to decide what to do tomorrow.

Option A: To reach KL town center, take a cab to Subang Villa Hotel, rest for a couple of hours or do a little shopping, before Paolo would return at 8pm for dinner.

Option B: Take express train from KL town center to KLIA, and Paolo would pick us up to go track till everything finishes, and drive us back to hotel.

I am too fickle-minded a person to make decision.

Shall see.

Finally did some packing after reaching home from Orchard at 10pm, though everything is so last minute.

I even managed to heat up the frying pan and cook dinner for myself in the midst of showering, shampooing, epilating my legs, plucking my armpit hair, slapping on moisturiser for face and body, packing my bag, charging battery, and even doing the laundry.

***

I gasped in absolute horror when I saw Kenny Sia’s post.

I was so shocked beyond words that I couldn’t even mutter a proper Nah-beh.

Such cheesy pose somemore! And is that a double chin I saw on me?

I refused to download the video, yet I did after I had finished my routine, and was on the phone with SBB.

Hand itchy, and pressed for download.

Halfway through the clip, I stopped to wail, whine and cringe.

I continued, and I couldn’t stop cringing, and hiding my head under the duvet.

IT WAS SO HORRENDOUS.

KENNY YOU… YOU… BASKET! @^#&#!#*%!@

I would have paid you any amount if you had blackmailed me.

I have no intention to let the world know what kind of crap and disgusting dancer I am.

Never did I know the Blog Con night would come back and haunt me.

*Shudders*

Now, can we negotiate about the nude pictures you took of me that night…. I will promise you a good price.

Muahahaha.

***

Told myself I would sleep at 1.30am, but it’s already 1.30am now.

Woops.

Anyway.

Was showing some pictures VampTreSS took of me to Kenny when he thought the pictures didn’t really capture dejection, but look sensual instead.

Joanne saw it and exclaimed that it is sexy and I refute it by saying it wasn’t meant to be so. I was supposed to look sad.

Kenny then said I would look the same even if you clad me in a suit.

Just so coincidental, I did don one for the suit too.

Darn.

I look so yummy in one.

With the pants clinging on to my butt. Whee, for once, I have a nice butt.

In fact, VampTreSS even suggested that I should be a lesbian.

Tsk tsk. Lock your girlfriends/mistresses/wives/flings at home, or I might be your greatest rival ever.

*Cough*

Besides that, I do know of some people who have fetishes for women who power-dress.

Not one, but majority of the people I had been with.

My ultimate aim is to be slim enough to wear a set of white, sleek suit, with thick-rimmed glasses.

Alas, I still have not much of a career to speak of to justify wearing a suit.

But wrap me up in one, no one would suspect I am a fake in Shenton Way.

See! Suit just gives people tons of confidence, like how it’s bursting mine.

Just to illustrate that I don’t look sensual but am darn smart and masculine in a power suit, *drum rolls*

We had wanted to do a theme, but alas, no inspiration, hence, there’s nothing quite interesting to show photography wise, but just for illustation purposes of Ting in suit.

Ivan and Chrissy, we might be able to do the power-dress theme some day soon!

The shoot, was supposed to be of contrast to these(did I say PG rating for this post?):

Ah well.

How brilliant is her photography, you tell me.

And you’re not supposed to look at me with sleaze, thank you.

***

With power dress fetish. Which prompted me to think.. what if I have to write an intimate story on it. How would it be like?

***

3 chapters into the book, the rare sexual scenerio took place, illustrating one of the female leads, a successfuly career woman, having an affair, with the author masterfully teased my imagination with her vivid description.

A quivering blaze of sensation transfused, and I crossed my legs instinctively to curb the urge.

I took a glance of the time, suddenly eager for his arrival.

He still have yet to call, I thought, and it gotta be another half an hour after he does, before he would reach.

I could hardly wait.

If desire is the key to telepathy, it must have worked darn well.

Just as the thought flickered, I was hardly onto the next sentence on the page when the house phone shrieked.

‘I’m here, sweetie. Would you come down to get me?‘

I was silently glad he couldn’t see me biting my lower lip hard, secretly in glee of his unexpected, advanced arrival.

The power game, thus started rolling.

I coolled myself a little, did a quick change, before meeting up with him at the basement carpark.

He leaned in for a kiss, and I instinctively dodged it.

I didn’t quite want to rip him apart right there and then.

I dove into the lift, with him following behind.

As I leaned on one side of the mirror, he closed in to greet me with the usual kiss with his hand wrapped around me.

It was as if I was intentionally hiding my anticipation. I observed his pace as he took a step forward, and was mentally replaying the visual in slow-motion.

No idea why, but that was incredibly sexy.

Must be the rousing effect from the darn book, I thought.

***

He sneaked in a cuddle along the corridor as we approached my room.

I turned instinctively and was locked in a passionate session of tongue fight as he cornered me to the wall.

I felt the touch of his bare hand up my back, reaching for the clasps.

Once, twice, thrice. Failed.

I leaned away from him, pretended to fold my arms, and gave a disdain shake of my head.

He caught my haughty smile and snapped, ‘Shut up, I know what you are thinking and what you’re gonna say.’

I burst out laughing and threw my arms round him, before offering, ‘Need any help, sweets?‘

***

I hovered around my prey the moment he stepped into my den, updating his day as he always does as he changed out of his jeans to shorts.

The evil glint in my eyes went unnoticed in the dimmed room.

As he turned to dip me into his embrace, he caught glimpse of the neat set of blazer and pants, hanging prominently on one side of the room.

‘Woooo.. Hmm, a suit,’ he exclaimed suggestively.

‘Yeap, just got it last night, I wonder how cool I would look in it,’ I responded nonchalantly.

‘Can I see you in it?‘ he tried his luck.

‘No, you can’t. For what? I don’t think I look nice in it, like wrapped dumpling like that(bao ba zhang)‘ I rejected him flatly.

I grabbed him by the waist and drew him in for yet another deep, lingering kiss.

I landed on my back onto the bed, with my arms clinging to him by his neck.

I felt his lips slithering down to my neck, and the flash of desire spreaded through my senses when he finally came to a halt on my chest.

I reached downwards, with my chilled fingers groping him through his shorts.

He suddenly darted upright(yes him, not part of him), and took a deep breath, suppressing his smile, and said, ‘Hmm, let me take a shower first.’

I smirked and decided not to make it easy for him, before sitting up and pulled him down by his neck again, just wanting to tease him a little bit more.

I smiled slyly that I might not allow him to have a shower anytime soon.

He took the cue, and simpered, announcing, ‘Now, I think I really do need a shower first.‘

‘A cold one, perhaps,’ I suggested with a sardonic laugh.

***

I stared into the mirror, and inspected the sleek one staring back at me.

A camisole, or a proper white shirt, I pondered over.

A camisole, I started with.

The ceasation of running water was the indication.

A brief moment later, the door swung open.

I turned, and smiled cryptically, and a tad alluringly at the freshly showered one.

‘Hey, so how do I look in this,’ I asked slyly.

He lips stretched to a grin and went, ‘Woooo.. Hmmm…‘

The room was a tad too cold. I stood in the room for a few excessive seconds, out of reach from him.

‘Hurhurhur,‘ I laughed triumphantly.

‘Come here,‘ he commanded, standing at the corridor outside the door.

‘Don’t want,’ I replied cheekily.

‘Come here!‘ he commanded again, with a tad more force.

And I smugly sashayed towards him.

I didn’t need to be fully out of the door for him to pull me towards him, his gaze poring the suit on me.

He had a problem keeping his hands to himself.

When he was warmed up enough with the cuddles and kisses, we came into the room again, and thought how would the suit look with a shirt instead.

It took a while longer than usual, before I was allowed to change into the shirt, and the fact that he helped me to button up didn’t speed up the process either.

A shirt certainly complement a blazer well.

I didn’t have much time to stare into the mirror, cos my prey, had turned predator.

He insisted on helping me to change out of my gear, which my attempts to resist, were futile.

I closed my eyes, feeling his kisses increasing its intensity, and his embrace tightening.

The metal clips to the pants came undone, followed by the zip as I felt his body sliding downwards, gliding past the crisp ensemble.

I indulged in the moment with my eyes closed, as I felt his lips licentiously nibbling mine, and tongue provocatively probing me.

I felt empowered, somehow.

The sparkle of lust lasciviously consumed me as I stood there, treading between the grounds of vulnerability and authority, fuelling me on further.

As he rose to his feet to greet me with yet another kiss again, the shirt and the jacket didn’t manage to stay on long.

I whimpered a groan of delirium when the game of tease and power advanced on, and I could feel him, close.

***

I was almost short of breath when I pushed him out of me, and stopped abruptly.

Power and control, I shall have.

I climbed onto of him and leaned down for an intense kiss as I held him by the jaw.

In his coollest possible voice, he spoke calmly as if we were chatting about work in the office, ‘You know I’m reaching there soon, don’t you?‘

With a smirk, and an obvious tinge of mock ignorance, ‘Oh really?‘, I upped the pace.

***

As we laid there, entwined and spent, I was adamant about exercising my authority again.

Within half an hour, I demanded to be served, and finally gotten what I wanted.

Finally.

***

I felt a smooch on my forehead, one of the first things when I was roused to consciousness.

Moments later, I lazed on the bed, and pulled the one who was standing by the window-side down.

My tongue registered a taste of bitter tobacco, enjoying the roasted aroma leftover in his mouth.

Rise and shine, it was.

Or was it?

As his arousing touch roamed round my body, it wasn’t long before we were all hyped up again.

I have no idea why, but the low, sexy whisper of his, is filled with sensuality to the brim.

I reached my hand behind me to grab for his thigh, as I felt the unmistakenable sensation, and I heard his whispers again, right at the precise moment.

I turned my head back to demand for the intense kiss to round the episode.

‘Interesting timing,‘ he concluded, as I was still trying to get my breath sorted.

Indeed, indeed.

***

Sigh. I wish..

Hurhurhur. Suit is evil.

Fact or fiction?

Once again, your call.

Anyway, what really did happen was:

Once again, his shoulder was my haven, whilst he found a comfortable position to doze off with the pillow piling high.

I have no idea how we ended up snoozing, but when I woke up intermittently throughout the sleep, I realised we were always in the most awkward positions.

Once, I woke up to find myself all shrimped up, occupying the lower half of the bed. When I looked up, I saw him lying peacefully on the pillow, and I was staring right into his abdomen.

How the hell did I end up sleeping that way, I wonder.

The next time when I woke up, I found myself at the edge of my bed, my toes touching and supported by the desk right next to my bed, as my feet were wedged in between the space between the mattress and the desk.

My feet were forced off the bed, or maybe, kicked off, by the one beside me. His feet and legs were resting at the comfortable edge of the bed.

He was still inching close during that brief moment when I was awake.

I think he secretly plotted to inch me off the bed, totally.

As I tossed and turned and felt his occasional pecks in the midst of our sleep, I realised I was sleeping around his chest area this time round.

So the first thing I caught a glimpse of, was his armpit hair.

And in the midst of it, I remember catching sight one of his worst sleeping pattern, which was rather hideous. The most hideous I had ever seen of him. But surprisingly, I smiled contendedly and continued on.

One of the hilarious moment was when I drifted back to sleep after a brief moment of consciousness where we woke to cuddle a little while and kissy here and there.

Suddenly, I heard myself snoring, pretty loudly I might add.

Knowing full well that he must have caught that, I was jolted awake and immediately placed my palm onto my mouth, and yawped in shock and perfect soberness, ‘Oh my God! I just snored and I heard it!‘

He laughed.

How embarrassing.

We finally woke up around noon, before he left at 5 plus, whilst I waited for Vamp’s arrival.

Did I mention I finally managed to lift him off the ground?

I used to be able to do so for a much bigger mass, ya know?

But I was panting like hell when I finally put him back to the ground and he lift me up easily with just minute efforts.

Argh.

***

Well, well, I don’t see myself updating till Monday.

And I am so gonna regret tomorrow when my eyes are all puffy since I had forsaken quite a bit of my rest.

So, pictures to see, erotic details to read, lengthy words to pore through for this entry.

I have done my part.

Curious. With almost 1200 page views, why is there not even one