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In 2008, Patrick King Pascual met with two guys – both at the same time. This made him ask: As sexual beings, do we all just want to keep trying things sexually so as not to bore ourselves?

It was 2008.

He was tall, white and handsome. He was manly, well-built and smooth. He was strong, hard and endowed. He was sweating, smiling and satisfied. I don’t remember his name, but his whiskey flavored breath still lingers.

It was 11:oo in the evening, I logged on to mIRC. A few minutes later, someone messaged me, asking for my stats and location. I replied with my photos.

“Do you want to have a threesome?” he replied.

I was hesitant, I wasn’t really in the mood to have a threesome that night. I didn’t answer his question; instead, I asked for his stats and photos.

It took him several minutes to reply.

Another chatter messaged, asking for my stats and location. I replied with the infos, and he said that he’s looking for a threesome.

Quite a coincidence, I thought.

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I still haven’t made up my mind whether to go through with the threesome offer of Chatter#1, but then I thought, “Oh what the heck, got to try something different every now and then!”

And so I messaged Chatter#1, “Tara! Want to have threesome with you. I’m also chatting with someone who’s also looking for a threesome, I’ll invite him.”

“Sure. What’s you mobile number and exact address? There’s space for parking in your area, right?” Chatter#1 asked.

“Yup!” I replied along with my other info.

After inviting and arranging the meet-up with Chatter#2, I went to the terrace and lit a Marlboro and got into thinking: “Are we gays like other individuals who are super sexually active, unconsciously answering the need to try something new every now and then when it comes to sex, so we won’t feel bored and monotonous in bed?”

After 30 minutes, my phone beeped. I went back inside and checked my phone, it was Chatter#1. “I’m already outside your house.”

I went out on the terrace again and looked. I saw a black Expedition parking in front of my house, while a black Honda parked on the other side, its door opened, and I saw Chatter#2 went down, as he fixed himself.

My heart was rushing, beating really hard. I went down to open the gate.

I was wearing my Nike boxer shorts and a white tank top, puffed a freshly lit Marlboro while I waited for Chatter#1 to get out of his car.

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As the black Expedition opened, I sucked hard on my cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out.

He was tall, white and handsome.

He approached me, Chatter#2 followed, introduced himself and reached for my hand.




We went inside my room.

He was wearing a white polo barong uniform, black slacks and leather shoes.

He pulled me closer, planted a kiss, an aggressive and passionate kiss. I tasted Whiskey on his lips and tongue. It was addicting.

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I removed his top, he removed the white shirt he was wearing underneath. I kissed him again. He held my head as he pushed me on the bed, as he slowly stripped his pants down.

Chatter#2, Mr. Wallflower, just sat across the room and watched Mr. Whiskey dominate me.

We were both naked. I was on top while kissing his thin red lips. He pushed my head lower and lower. I started on his hard pecs, caressed his nipples with my tongue.

I made a trail down to his abs, and before I reached his already hard manhood, I stopped. Positioned myself in between his legs, held him on my right hand and took a good look of it.

He was at least seven and half inches. Topped with a cherry-like head.

Mr. Whiskey reached for my head and lowered it. He rewarded my effort with strong moans.

I went faster; while my hands reached for his chest and taint. All the muscles on his body flexed.

After several deepthroats, moan after moan, he pulled me up, looked at my face and kissed me.

He was strong, hard and endowed.

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He signaled to Mr. Wallflower to come closer, he removed his shirt. And pulled him on top of the bed.

I reached for Mr. Wallflower’s manhood, he was average, nothing remarkable. Gave him head for a bit and returned to Mr. Whiskey.

I don’t know if it was Mr. Whiskey’s perfect face and body or the smell and taste of whiskey that pulled me closer and preferred him over Mr. Wallflower.




After several minutes of kissing, giving Mr. Whiskey head, and several failed attempts of Mr. Wallflower to join in, Mr. Whiskey stood up and asked me to lay flat on the bed.

He reached for his pants, took a condom and wore it.

He pulled my legs up, leaned towards me, kissed me and slowly went down to my ass.

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The smell and taste of whiskey was all over me.

Mr. Whiskey entered me.

He pulled Mr. Wallflower closer to my face, and asked me to give him head, I nodded but I just held it on my right hand and jerked it while I fully enjoy Mr. Whiskey’s pumping.

Seeing someone on top of you who is giving his best in every pump he makes, is priceless. I didn’t want it to end, I wanted it to go on forever.

He pumped faster and faster, placed my legs on his shoulders. I was signaling to him to go slow, because I’m close.

Mr. Whiskey ignored me and pumped harder. I came on my chest and on my chin.

I came without touching myself, it was that good. He played with my cum as he continued pumping.

And then, after a minute or two, I heard the loudest moan ever. I felt something hot inside, he was panting hard. He came. I felt his sweat dripping on my face. He slowly released my legs, and pulled himself out.

He was sweating, smiling and satisfied.

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We completely forgot Mr. Wallflower. I reached for him and jerked him off. He came on my hand. And he looked unsatisfied, but I didn’t mind.

Mr. Whiskey went to the bathroom, fixed himself and went back to the room.

We chatted a little. I learned that Mr. Wallflower was Mr. Whiskey’s friend. And that they’ve been planning to have a threesome with someone for a really long time, just to try it.

They left at around two in the morning.

I lit my third Marlboro of the the night, opened a bottle of beer, and went out of the terrace to get some fresh air…

He was tall, white and handsome. He was manly, well-built and smooth. He was strong, hard and endowed. He was sweating, smiling and satisfied. I don’t remember his name, but his whiskey flavored breath still lingers.

Living life a day at a time – and writing about it, is what Patrick King believes in. A media man, he does not only write (for print) and produce (for a credible show of a local giant network), but – on occasion – goes behind the camera for pride-worthy shots (hey, he helped make Bahaghari Center’s "I dare to care about equality" campaign happen!). He is the senior associate editor of OutrageMag, with his column, "Suspension of Disbelief", covering anything and everything. Whoever said business and pleasure couldn’t mix (that is, partying and working) has yet to meet Patrick King, that’s for sure!


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