The Ark

Author's note: These chapters are NOT stand-alones...The story starts here.

Birthday thoughts...3

I want to go back to sleep. My brain is not cooperating.

I had planned on getting myself a pretty, and pretty accommodating, wife to bring back to the states. A wife to live with me much like what my friend has done.

I have no plans to pick up stakes and live in the tropics. This concept of telling a girl that she can either join a group or get left in the dust makes no fucking sense. Of course, I’m about to meet at least five more gals. So, if I don’t do what Princess says, I am, in the end, going to leave five out of six (or nine out of ten if I see the last four) in the dust. And so… that gets me thinking.

If, in the end, one really stands out, then OK, maybe I should say, you’re the one. But what if I’m wrong and make a poor choice? What if, once I get her to the States, it all falls apart?

Which is the smarter and safer way to go? Maybe, just maybe, if Princess is right, then maybe that is the more decent way to go. In any case, I’m sure, some of these gals will tell me to blow it out my ass. So no matter what, there will not be six or ten of them. If Princess is wrong, then I’m back to my original plan and I choose one to bring back to the States with me.

Damn, my head hurts.

Huh?

Ira, get up. We go for breakfast!

She seems happy and at ease. How can that be? There’s no talk of what transpired in the middle of the night. It’s not that it didn’t happen. It’s more like things are stable now. I’m not sure I’m explaining it right. Maybe I have it completely wrong.

It seems like I have been wrong, far more than I have been right, ever since I got here.

Breakfast is much like it was yesterday. Nothing startling and, if my world was to be defined by the amenities of the hotel and not by the nature and patterns of Filipino behavior, I would assume this place was an exotic version of the USA.

But this land is anything but that. Leave the hotel and go out into the city, and you know you are far from the USA. Even here, within the hotel, the behavior of the staff, and of Princess, makes it clear that I’m far from home.

It’s jarring. There are signs in English all over, but people don’t speak English with each other. Yes, here in the hotel, they speak English to me, but not to each other. And when out in the city, many have no meaningful English, though all the road signs are in English, as are many business signs.

It’s truly confusing. It seems that most can read some English but many are unable to use it themselves. I make a comment about this to Princess but I’m not sure she understands what I’m trying to say.

As we ride back up to our room via the elevator, I decide to ask her where she wants to go today. I get a few moments of silence and a look on her face I cannot decipher.

Who you see next?

I’m a little irritated. She really has no business asking.

Why do you want to know? I told you that you aren’t going to control what I do.

I not controlling! I will help you! You will see.

I’m far from satisfied. The rest of the way to the room is done in silence. But once we are in the room and the door is closed, she turns, puts her arms around my neck and kisses me hard on the lips. Pulling back, she smiles and says, OK, show me, Ira. You will see. It truly OK.

For a second, I consider arguing with her, and then I think, what the fuck. If she wants to knock herself out of the running, why stop her. Let her show me her true colors. I might as well see them now, rather than later.

There’s WiFi here in the hotel. I pull out the tablet and connect to it. Before long I’m able to log into the website. I haven’t looked at it since I left the states.

There are far more first time messages waiting for me, but there are a number of replies as well.

I open up the reply from that gal I’ll meet tomorrow. She is excited. She says she understands that I’ll see others, but is sure I’ll choose her. She has given me her cellphone number in the message. Princess is reading along with me. She has taken note of the number. That pisses me off but I don’t say anything.

Ira, show me her page. I want to see.

Yeh, let Princess dig her own grave. I open up the page for the gal who has messaged me and hand her the tablet. Princess looks at all the parts and pieces of it. She isn’t saying anything as the investigation continues. And then she is done. She hands the tablet back to me. There’s a frown on her face. Clearly she is bothered by something she saw. Good! Maybe she is learning that it isn’t going to go the way she thought!

She is no good.

Well, that is for me to decide, not you. I know you have her phone number. Do not contact her!

Yes, yes. I know this! I not call her. But she will argue with you. You will see. This one is difficult. I not think you will be with her more than one day. Then you will send her away. What you do then? Who next?

The next one is on another island.

Oh? So what you do when you send the next one away? You here alone for two more days, or you ask me to come back, maybe?

Just because you think I’ll send her away does not mean I will! You are not the one who decides!

Ira, I know! Please, who next?

What the fuck. I’m going to fly to Iloilo on the island of Panay to meet the next gal. She lives in Tigbauan on Pinay, but there’s no airport there. She also has left a message. I open it up. What she says is nice, and presents no problem for me. She asks where she will find me and if I have a cellphone number so she can message me.

I grab the card my SIM came attached to. I had put the card in my wallet. The number is on that card. I send her the number but not the expected date of my arrival nor where I’ll stay. That all depends on what happens with the next gal.

As Princess did the last time, she is watching all of this. Once I send the message, before she even asks, I open up this gal’s webpage on the site and hand the tablet to this gal sitting next to me who is clearly making it very easy to say goodbye to later.

The scrutiny of these pages takes a bit longer before I’m handed the tablet?

Well, are you going to tell me that I’ll have problems with this one?

No. Why I do that. I like Lorie. I think she will be good. We will be happy with her.

Oh? “We” will? Why is that?

She will not argue. I think there not be a problem with this one. Yes, it true that all want to be the one and only. It true that she want marriage. But, I think, if she learn you are good but marriage not possible, there not be a problem. Maybe I wrong, but this is what I think. …Who next?

What the fuck? OK, so I go back to the messages. There’s a message from the gal I expect to see after Lorie. I open it up. I’m not sure I like what I’m reading. There’s too much religious crap and thanking Jesus for my arrival. I don’t send any message back before clicking over to the gal’s pages and handing over the tablet.

Princess doesn’t even spend a minute looking at the pages before handing it back to me with a question. You really going to see this one?

I guess I’m smiling. Why? What is wrong?

You love Jesus like she do? Really? I not think you do.

Oh, well, maybe she is expressing her happiness in a way that seems nice. Maybe she really is not all that religious. Regardless of my own cautions and concerns after reading the gal’s message, I’m not going to give Princess any room to operate.

Ha, you will see. You will waste your time with this one!

Maybe, I will. But it’s my time, not yours. You don’t get to make decisions for me.

Yes, OK. I am wrong, but I just trying to help you. You not understand us!

Maybe you are right about the gal, but it’s for me to find out.

You angry with me?

I’m not happy. Maybe not angry, but it isn’t good. I warned you about this before.

I think she wants to cry, but instead she seems to gather herself up emotionally and says, Next, my love?

We go through all those I have answered at least once. Not all know I’m coming, but all know that I would be seeing more than them when I came. Four had reacted badly to this and I had removed them, but these are all seemingly OK, based on the responses that sit in my inbox.

In each case, Princess has given me her opinion as to whether the gal is a potential keeper. Are the ones she warns me about really problems for me? Or are they more a case of a problem for her, as they might be the ultimate keeper?

I suspect the former as I look at them now. I’m beginning to see what Princess might be seeing. Only time will tell, I guess. I’ll see each, regardless of Princess’s score card.

We have spent all morning at this and a bit of the afternoon. I have a clear need for a bite to eat and, while the hotel restaurant is the closest answer, I saw a McDonald’s down the street. I need a burger and fries.

On the way there I learn that Princess has never been to MickeyD’s. She tells me she likes a place that is called Jollibee. I see one close by our destination. It’s obviously the competition, but my choice is the golden arches.

I thought I was completely familiar with the MickeyD menu, but this one has fried chicken and rice listed. There’s also a lot of signage that says McDo. That is strange. Once again I’m getting a strong message I’m not in the USofA. But the Big Mac still tastes like a Big Mac and the fries still taste like they are supposed to. So, different or not, I’m OK.

As Princess and I walk back to the hotel, she shares a little of what her life is like. I’m not sure that it’s making a lot of sense to me. One thing that freaks me out is that she has had to quit her job to spend time with me. On top of that, I gather that getting a job is not all that easy. Is this a con? How can I know?

If it’s true, I can see how it may have ramped up the urgency I feel from her. It’s also setting off alarm bells inside my head as to what I’ll be doing to the others. If she is being truthful, then each might have to quit a job to be with me… and I’ll leave all but one in the dust. My decision to meet so many gals may be truly unfair to all and damned sure evil, all because I don’t know their world.

Of course, if each is OK with joining as a group, then those who join will be OK. Is that the reason why Princess thinks it’ll work out OK that way?

It sure isn’t what I was planning, but I just don’t understand this place. That I don’t have a clue is becoming ever clearer as the hours pass.

Back in the hotel room, I decide I need a shower. The walk has left me sweaty.

I have never seen needing a shower as an invitation to have sex. But then, I have never been with a gal who has decided she needed to use every trick in the book to land her great white whale.

I’m in the shower no more than a minute before I have company. If this was a small shower stall it probably would not have been possible, but this is not a shower in a tub like you see in hotels in the USA, nor is it a small enclosure. There’s ample room and Princess is making good on that feature to grab the soap, squat in front of me, wash my genitals, rinse them off and proceed with water streaming over her head to give me head.

How she can squat flat-footed as she can and not blow out her knees is an amazement to me, all on its own. That she can be sufficiently comfortable to give me head, in a completely leisurely manner at the same time, is worthy of some damn award.

I was completely limp when she starts. I’m not limp now. With her long black hair plastered to her head, she isn’t the prettiest she can be, but that just doesn’t matter.

What matters is that she has me rock hard as her head bobs up and down. Her hands are on each of my glutes, holding on firmly, to make sure that the performance will reach her desired end before I can disengage.

Why didn’t she wait until I was out of the shower? She could have done this on the bed. I sure wasn’t going to leave her once I dried off. That question, and dozens more, will not be asked.

I’m really done with the shower but do not want to turn it off as it’ll disturb what Princess is engaged in. So, I just stand upright with my cock in the gal’s mouth.

She is getting to me.

My hands cup the back of her wet hair and I fuck her head. It may not look different from an outsider’s view, but she is no longer controlling the process of giving me head. I’m controlling her as I fuck her head and push in harder and deeper than she was taking me before.

It doesn’t last long, I don’t pull out and I don’t warn her before cum enters her mouth.

She allows my less rigid cock to slide out of her mouth, cum dripping from the side of her lips, and tilts her head up showing me a big smile. How can this be real?

Five minutes later we are out of the shower, I’m lying on the bed, still naked. She is sitting on the bed with me, almost naked as she has a towel wrapped around her hair. It looks like a turban. Her small, pert breasts are firm against her trim diminutive frame.

Again, she asks?

I laugh. There’s no way I’m going to give her a ride now.

Why you laugh?

There’s no way I’ll get hard so soon.

OK, we see. I try!

Princess, there’s no way.

OK, so maybe you right. But I try anyway.

Why don’t we just kiss instead?

I think I have gotten her to agree. She does come to me, allows me to hold her and taste her lips. But as we are doing that, I feel her hands on my manhood, gently caressing it.

The kisses continue during this midafternoon siesta as does her manual attention to my lower regions.

Her lips are soft and playful. Her hands never stop, never give up. And, slowly, she gets her reward as there are signs of resurrection below. My kissing becomes more energetic as my cock regains structural integrity.

Princess’s breathing is becoming a bit ragged. She is using her teeth on my lips, on my neck, on my jawline.

I roll her onto her back and push in. She is hot and wet. I slide all the way down and in, on the first stroke.

There’s no talking. And this will be no short ride. Having cum in her mouth less than half an hour ago, I won’t be cumming anytime soon, this time.

The only things to be heard are the sounds of our breathing, the mattress and the air conditioner. There isn’t even the ticking of a clock. It has a digital display with glowing red numbers.

Can it be said that there are times fucking is an act without a path towards a completion? It seems an odd thing and yet, as our bodies pump and pump, it seems to be that there’s no goal here. It’s the act, in and of itself. It’s the act that matters right now, not a reward at the end. It’s without meaning other than being what it is. I’m not trying to prove anything.

I gave her cum in her cunt last night. She took cum by mouth just a bit ago. She isn’t begging for completion and I can’t give it to her. Still, she reaches up and pulls me in for a kiss, as we fuck through the late afternoon.

If I had just chosen her, if there was no competition, would things be like they are right now?

It’s one of hundreds of questions that I’ll never have an answer to. All I do know is that this has been one of the most remarkable two days I have ever had in my life. I’m hoping that these two days are not the end of my good fortune.

My cock feels… so good, so right, inside this gal. And now, for some reason I feel the swelling of passion announcing that completion will actually occur.

She knows it, too. She breaks off a kiss, looks up at me with an expression I cannot decipher and, at that very moment, cum enters her. She closes her eyes tight and smiles.

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Birthday thoughts...4