Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer
A pussy binge and new beginnings.
By this time I was almost feeling like a Philippine veteran. I had experienced multiple sexual partners I had experienced death, I had experienced the genuine friendship of Filipina’s, I had done the province experience, I had been accused of murder and of course I had traveled the turbulent and drama laden path, that typifies any relationship with a Filipina.
So now what, that was the big question. With the departure of Rosie I realized I was at some sort of crossroads in my Philippine adventures. On the one hand, I had come here as a sex tourist with the objective of having as many sexual partners as I possibly could, but on the other hand, I had also experienced two turbulent relationships, and at this point I really wasn’t sure which way to go.
I managed a further two weeks in Ermita which incorporated daily bar hops and different women just about every night. Occasionally I would take a night off and these nights were spent sitting around the Mayfair’s outside courtyard, drinking a few beers, and having a general chit chat with other patrons of the hotel. The Mayfair was decidedly Australian in ambience and in the patrons it attracted which of course was fine by me since it was nice to get a taste of home occasionally. Having said that, I would find myself chatting with these blokes but there was always a small barrier there. It was almost as if I had made some sort of mental decision that Australia was no longer a place I still called home. It wasn’t until many years later when I sat back and analyzed it, that I realized I was almost a vagabond, and I didn’t really fit in anywhere. I knew I would always be a foreigner in the Philippines and yet somehow Australia held no interest for me and neither did New Zealand or England.
After about two weeks of partying and going through money like there was no tomorrow I decided to take a couple of days off and it was then I remembered my mates advice back in Australia. He had gone to great pains to make sure I visit Angeles and even written out a list of what he thought the best bars for me to visit would be for me to visit. I sitting enjoying a cup of tea and reviewing my list when David approached me with another guy who was Mauritian/Australian who went by the name of Wally.
After a brief introduction Wally sat down and joined me drinking a few beers. In those days there was no such thing as SML and the San Miguel Pale Ale was going down a treat. Over the years I have developed a distinct aversion to San Miguel Light as it gives me horrible headaches but the San Miguel Pale Ale still does the trick quite nicely. In fact San Miguel is the only beer in the world I have tasted that actually tastes better out of a can than a bottle. Now I know you beer aficionados reading this will be guffawing and shaking your head in disagreement, but I solemnly swear, the San Miguel Pale Pilsner tastes better in the gold can than it does in the brown bottle. I have discussed this with many people and some have said the reason is because the beer in the gold can is their export beer and therefore a better quality. How much credence there is in this theory I have no idea, but it sounded good to me at the time, so for the want of any other reasonable explanation, I have stuck with it, and will always use it when other people notice the weird phenomenon, of a beer tasting better in a can than a bottle.
Wally and I seemed to hit it off pretty well and it wasn’t long before I found myself discussing the possibility of going up to Angeles sometime in the near future. When he heard me mention Angeles he burst out in a big smile and replied, “mate I love Angeles, that’s my town much more than Manila. Tell you what mate, I was planning on heading up there tomorrow so how about we travel together”. I responded positively stating this would be a great idea, to which Wally replied, “that’s grouse mate, let’s meet at the Mayfair reception at 9”. Without a moments hesitation I agreed and then Wally proceeded to regale me with stories of his adventures in Angeles.
When Wally and I were sitting together enjoying a good chin wag, the time just seemed to fly, and before either of us knew what happened it was 1 AM and Mario was closing up the bar at the Mayfair. Mario announced last call but Wally said, “not for me mate I got to go. I got a bird up in my room and she’ll probably be all pissed off coz I’ve been away so long. Cop you later Marty and I’ll see you at 9”. With that said, Wally stood up, swayed a little, then proceeded to make his way upstairs to his room.
Feeling a little bit let down I looked around and realized I was the only person left and I wondered what the heck I was going to do now. It was to early to go to bed so I decided a little walk to Rosie’s diner, a local pickup joint, might be in order.
Back in day when Ermita was in full swing Rosie’s Diner was literally a license to print money. It still exists to this day but is now called the Manila Café and with the demise of the bars has become even more of a pick up joint than it was when all the bars were operating.
Back in the day it was a brightly lit establishment capable of holding 30 to 40 people and it incorporated a theme based around an American 50’s diner. Rosies Diner was always popular but no matter what the owners would say, the popularity had nothing to do with the food or the ambience. This was a renowned pick up joint and 80% of the customers were there to meet someone rather than indulge in a good meal. Having said that, Rosies food was always decent, it seemed to be open 24/7 and the location was nothing if not convenient.
Normally Rosie’s was at its best as the various shifts in the bars finished but no matter what time of day or night if you hung out there long enough with an expectant look and lowered your standards, it was always easy to pick up a girl there. Filipinas being smaller boned and normally having dazzlingly clear brown skin, make for perfect clothes horses and Rosie’s was deceptive because a mediocre girl could look stunning and I was to often find a girl who looked so promising initially, could often be a disappointment later on.
It was always an interesting experience walking the streets of Manila after sunset and I use the word interesting because even though the area was mainly frequented by seedy lowlife’s and Filipino’s under the grinding heel of absolute poverty, I never once felt threatened. Yes I would often get the impression I was viewed as a walking ATM machine but never once did I feel threatened or in danger.
It took me about twenty minutes to get to Rosie’s just gently strolling yet still when I got there I had worked up a little sweat. I entered the restaurant sat down on a fifties style stool ordered a glass of water and of course a chocolate shake which was somewhat of a specialty at Rosie’s. The shake came within 5 minutes and as I sipped it I sat back perused the scenery and spotted a girl on the other side of the restaurant who looked super hot and was obviously there on the hunt.
Now the thing about places like Rosie’s Diner that alienates me is that there is no protocol. For some people this is exactly why they liked Rosie’s, finding it easier to operate in this environment but for me the bar scene was always so much more comfortable. I was never quite sure what approach to take when placed in a pick up joint but in the bar the total opposite was true. I was just contemplating my shake, looking at the girl out of the corner of my eye, trying to decide how to approach her, when she looked directly at me and leveled me with a beautiful smile that literally floored me.
At first I was kind of shocked and I couldn’t believe this ravishing beauty was looking at me. I turned around to see if maybe there was someone behind me only to see an empty diner, and straight away I knew I was looking good when it came to picking up this girl.
I am admittedly not always the fastest on the uptake but when a woman like this smiles across the room at a guy like me there was only one option, and that option was to make my move. I rose out of the seat and trying my best to appear nonchalant strolled over and sat down beside her. “Hello beautiful”, I said, “my name is Martin, and it sure is a pleasure to meet you”. Having said a cheezy line like that, I felt myself mentally cringe but this beauty didn’t seem to notice and she replied with that dazzling smile, “Hi I am Lisa”.
Lisa was fairly tall as far as Filipinas go standing 5 foot 6 in heels, she had shoulder length hair, long shapely legs and small pert little boobs. I took one look at her drinking this visage in with my eyes and found myself thinking, ‘I love the Philippines’. Even when on the hunt I realized just how lucky I was being in the Philippines. I was fully aware that a woman such as Lisa would not have given me a second look, back in my own country, but here in the Philippines I was on pretty much equal footing with any guy and those odds were certainly more appealing than those at home.
Lisa and I engaged in small talk for about an hour with her suggesting we retire to the Hula Hut next door and get something more substantial to eat. The Hula Hut was situated just behind Rosie’s Diner and although owned by the same people as Rosie’s it certainly had a different feel to it. Rosie’s was a brightly lit diner with basic food stuffs and an emphasis on what I call semi fast food dining. The Hula Hut on the other hand was more like a restaurant and usually didn’t really take off until after midnight. The Hula Hut was the perfect place to get a meal and enjoy some truly scintillating eye candy. After midnight there was nearly always some glamour’s cruising the scene and for some reason when in the Hula Hut they always seemed better presented and exuded an air of quasi sophistication. I am sure once back in the bed the Hula Hut girls were much the same as any other bar girl, but even though I knew this, I was invariably turned on by the fact that these women had taken the time to present themselves in an elegant and slightly classy way, and in so doing distinguish themselves from the run of the mill bar girl.
Lisa and I enjoyed a nice little snack in the Hula Hut and spent another hour just getting to know each other. During our conversation I discovered that she was 22 years old, which for this environment was positively ancient, her province was Samar and she had 3 year old baby boy. Okay, given the baggage that came with her Lisa was hardly the perfect catch but it was getting late, I was not feeling particularly enthused or energetic and most importantly Lisa had those shapely long legs which seemed to go all the way to heaven. So with visions of those long legs stretched back to the point where her feet were behind her ears, and me with my cock pounding her sweet little pussy like a jackhammer, I popped the question and without hesitation she accepted and next thing I knew we were in a taxi heading towards the Mayfair.
Lisa and I enjoyed two torrid rounds of sex and I have to admit she was a loud vocal performer who would have multiple orgasms during the sex act and any reservations she may have had were thrown to the wind as she abandoned herself to the waves of sexual ecstasy that coursed through her body. Lisa loved all styles and could even cum when being fucked from behind. Lisa was not a wild cat that scratched and clawed but instead was a delightfully feminine woman and her orgasms reflected this.
After two rounds Lisa and I were both spend and I estimate I had been contently sleeping for about 3 hours when I was woken up by a solid and persistent knocking on the hotel door. It took a few moments for my situation to sink in and as I alighted from the bed and stumbled round for a bathrobe or some suitable covering, I thought to myself , what have I done now.