"It Must Have Been Love" or "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You"

[kentot]

My mind was slowly stirring up from its slumber. Did I just imagine it or dreamt it? Or did my lips really get kissed?

I tried to force myself to wake up. It was a battle to open my sleepy eyes but with heavy, half-opened eyelids, I slowly turned my head and tried to look over my shoulder. From my lying position, on one of the two single beds in the hotel room, I saw her... S's silhouette. She stood silently near the edge of my bed, unmistakably in my red Man Utd jersey, the hem falling just below her hips, showing off her fair meaty legs. Her hands were clasp together in front, her doe eyes looking apologetically at me.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up...” were the words that escaped her pinkish lips.

I just froze in that position. Dumbstruck...

================================================== ==========================================

“Passengers of Garuda Airlines flight GAxxx to Jakarta, please proceed to Gate....” the announcer’s voice boomed over the PA system of Changi Airport Terminal 3. I gulped down the remaining Starbuck’s latte, slung my laptop bag over my shoulder and proceeded to the gate to board my flight.

I just started this sales job close to 2 months ago. Since my coverage was Indonesia, I needed to go to Jakarta at least 2 weeks in a month. My OC was not really thrilled with the idea that I was going to be away 50% of the time in a month but hey, work was work.

Prior to this, I’ve only been to Jakarta twice - both on short 2 or 3 days business trips – and that was like more than 3 years ago. Have never really thought of spending a holiday in the Indonesian capital as I don’t really find anything that could be of interest other than Jakarta’s famous jams. Now, within a month, I’ve been there twice, staying up to 4/5 days at a go.

While I’ve always enjoyed business trips for some strange reasons - the flights, the airports, the airline food (yeah I know – what’s so great about airline food? Weird right?), the hotel stays - but staying in the same country, in the same hotel, having dinner every night by yourself and sleeping without a warm body by your side for 4 nights straight can get pretty damn boring and lonely.

I didn’t know why it took me so long to come up with the idea but for this 3rd trip up there, I was a little more prepared to kill some of the boredom. Getting into one of the social networking sites, out of the many Indonesian ladies I tried to befriend, 2 of them actually replied. And when I messaged both of them asking if they could accompany me for dinner since I was going over there, one of them, a 33 year old, surprisingly agreed. Her name was S.

What I didn’t anticipate, was how things would unravel....

[kentot]

As I exited the plane door, my foot making contact with the familiar reddish-brown tiles and the tired looking ambience of what was Soekarno Hatta airport, my mind was already beginning to envisage how the ‘date’ would be.

Would S really turn up? What if she gets cold feet and decides to chicken out? What if she runs away the moment she sees how ugly and fat I am?

Wait... why am I thinking so much about this? My boss’ boss is already pressuring her for my numbers and she in turn is pressurising me. I should be focusing more on making sure I meet up my partners and getting them to bring in the numbers rather than whether a stupid dinner with some stupid Indon chick that I haven’t even met before, materializes!

I collected my 1 week’s supply of luggage from the conveyer belt, stepped out and made my way to the Bluebird taxi stand outside.

Great... just great, I thought to myself. There was literally a freaking crowd gathering there. I asked for a queue number from one of the guys wearing the familiar blue batik-like shirt imprinted with the bluebird logo.

“Ini nomor bapak (this is your queue number),” he shoved a grey piece of paper at me. Number 86.

“Antrian nye saat ini brapa mas (what’s the queue number now)?” I asked him.

“Nomor 44 pak” was his reply.

Goodness! I’m not going to wait for 40 over others before my turn. Throwing all caution to the wind (and possible questioning from the company’s Finance side), I walked over to the Silverbird queue. (Quick note to readers not familiar with Indonesian taxi scene:
Blubird group is the largest, and supposedly most trusted, taxi operator - similar to Comfort taxi in Singapore. Bluebird taxis are the 'budget' type i.e. toyota vios, whereas silverbird is the 'higher class' type i.e. mercedes and camry. Of course the tariffs will be higher for the silverbird)

I went through the same process with the only difference being there were only 4 other people in the queue in front of me. Top in line was an elderly couple, followed by a sexily dressed lady in a 1-piece red dress, face heavily caked with make-up, lipstick and the works, 2 guys who seemed to be friends or business partners, an ang moh, with me following in tow behind him.

For some unknown reason, even the silverbird taxis were taking some time to arrive. I was getting rather restless and sweaty in the Jakarta morning heat. It was then I noticed that the sexily dressed lady kept looking backwards and at times, stood sideways so that she could again, look at what’s behind her without having to turn her head 180˚.

Damn, is she checking me out... I thought to myself? I took a quick, nonchalant glance downwards - nope, my zipper trousers is not undone. She can’t possibly be flirting with me can she?

Well, she wasn’t.

With a more calculative check, it was then that I noticed that she was actually trying to make eyes with the ang moh in front of me. The funny thing was, the ang moh was so oblivious (or maybe he chose to ignore) of her advances while the 2 guys in front of him had the same thought I had earlier i.e. that she was trying to flirt with them! One of the guys kept smiling at her and finally, I think he plucked the courage to try to talk to her. Unfortunately for him, she just curtly smiled at his advances, not answering a single question and continued unabatedly to get the ang moh’s attention.

Her taxi came, with the guy trying a last desperate attempt to get her number; she still ignoring him while trying to make a last desperate attempt to get the ang moh to notice her; and the ang moh still paying no heed to her. It was quite a comical sight and a wry smile broke on my face. Funny how those that have the chance (ang moh) don’t take it and those who can’t (the other guy) desperately trying till their last breath.

My cab finally pulled up to the taxi stand.

“Ke hotel P.... ya pak” I instructed the driver. I closed my eyes trying to get some quick shut eye. Somehow, images of me and S laughing over dinner filled my thoughts...

[kentot]

I was awakened by the typical honking of cars and bikes as we neared Jakarta Pusat or Central Jakarta. After stretching myself a little, I peered out of the taxi window, to the typical sight of bumper-to-bumper traffic, bikes weaving dangerously in between the motor cars and lorries.

(In the interest of time, I will just type out whatever possible Indonesian conversations I had directly in English for non-Indonesian understanding bros )

“Is the hotel still far away?” I asked the taxi driver.

“Should be reaching soon” was his reply.

I pulled out the company issued Blackberry and started checking for any new emails and replied to them.

Soon after, the taxi pulled up on hotel P’s driveway. The hotel doorman opened the taxi door and greeted me as I alighted. He then went round to help the taxi driver to unload my luggage from the boot. Thanking him as he passed me my luggage, I proceeded to step into the front desk to check-in.

“Good morning Mr Kentot. Can I confirm that you will be staying with us for 4 nights, checking-out on Friday, sir?” asked the guy behind the counter.

“Yes, that’s right” I replied, though my eyes was glancing at his female colleague at the next counter. She was rather sweet, fair and had a nice body to boot. Stupid couple, I cursed to myself. If they didn’t take so long to check-in, I would have been served by her instead of this somewhat, softie of a guy attending to me right now.

“Mr Kentot, this is your room number and these are your key cards. Hope you have a pleasant stay with us.” He handed me the typical rectangular cardboard holding the key cards and what nots, with an extra large smile on his face. Was he gay and trying to make a pass at me?

I shuddered at the thought, quickly collected my key cards and pulled my luggage along to the lift lobby, whilst taking in the hotel lobby’s decor and surrounding. This was my first time staying at P hotel and as it was rather new (only had a soft launch, yet to have an official launch), so everything was still nice and pristine. As the company I was working for didn’t have any corporate hotels associated, I was free to choose whichever hotel I deemed fit to stay as long as it was within company guidelines i.e. 4* below and within SGD150 per night – rather cheapskate if you were to ask me as Jakarta was not that a cheap city to stay in.

As luck would have had it, P hotel was having a promotion on its room rates at USD100 per night including breakfast, prior to its official launch in a few months time. And having seen the pictures of the hotel rooms and buffet breakfast spread on hotel P’s corporate website, I was hoping this would be a far better experience from hotel N that I have been staying for my past 2 earlier visits.

Not only was hotel N out of Jakarta Pusat area, where most of my partners were located, which made travelling for meetings a real pain in the ass; considering the infamous Jakarta traffic; the breakfast buffet was additional cost which, if included with the room tariff, will make it over the amount outlined in the company’s guidelines, wi-fi was available but for a charge, plus the lobby was small, cramp, hot and humid (I think they set the temperature to 27˚C or something ).

The only saving grace was the somewhat old shopping mall beside it that has numerous eating places such as Wendy’s, A&W, KFC, local eateries etc. The mall also housed a damn cheap foot reflexology and massage parlour - 1.5 hours of foot reflexology with back and head massage for under SGD7! The hotel pool was nice and fairly big, as was the room which was rather spacious. More importantly, the most significant thing that happened at hotel N was where I met A. (Hmmm... maybe I should share a bit more about her in the next part of my story, now that I think about it, since my experience with her is intertwined during the period I met S).

I stepped into hotel P’s elevator as it slowly ascended to the 24th floor.

[kentot]

This next part will be a little background on how I met A, seeing how she will also come into the scene from the setting I shared earlier. Sorry if it causes some confusion to the reading sis & bros

================================================== ==================================================

I waited impatiently in line at the reception, waiting for my turn to be checked-in.

“Why is the place so bloody warm” I thought to myself, as I furiously wiped the sweat of my brow. I made a mental note to find another hotel if possible instead of this N hotel.

Incidentally, this was my 2nd business trip to Jakarta under this company. The 1st was with my predecessor, Nick, who was bringing me around to meet the existing partners, officially informing them of his impending resignation and that I will be the new sales manager taking over the reins. As Nick had been staying at N hotel throughout his 9 months tenure, I too followed suite during my 2nd trip, which was by myself since Nick has officially left the company by then, as I didn’t have much time to do some research on other, possibly, better hotels. I spent a big chunk of my time whilst in the Singapore office trying to find new potential partners, doing paperwork for the sales orders and learning and reading up to understand the products offering by the company better.

“Sorry for making you wait sir. Can I have your passport please ...“ apologised the receptionist behind the counter and the typical process of checking-in ensued.

As soon as I reached my room, I powered on the laptop and started making calls to confirm my meetings with the partners. I was already making mental calculations that if I played my cards right, I could steal half or possibly even a day, to have some free time for myself to explore Jakarta further – courtesy of Sammyboy’s International Field Reports section

That Monday after I checked in, only managed to meet up with 1 of the partners in the afternoon. Damn, if this keeps up, I can kiss the planned personal time goodbye. After a whole day of travelling for meetings on Tuesday, I was quite spent though it was more productive as I managed to meet 3 of the partners. I went for dinner at A&W in the shopping mall next to N hotel immediately after my last meeting as I was just too tired and lazy to change and go back out again.

It was about 8pm when I reached back to my hotel room. Took a shower, changed into my shorts, made the compulsory messaging to OC on MSN and excused myself to her saying that I had a long day and wanted to have an early night. While somewhat true on the tiring day part, I somehow found myself not being able to get into that deep slumber I was hoping for. Tried watching TV to sleep but that didn’t work. With every ticking minute, I begin to feel an uneasy stirring sensation inside me - I was actually feeling a little horny.

Sigh ... only one thing to do, I thought to myself as I grabbed my lappie. I started surfing some porn sites while masturbating myself. Hopefully, once I get my release, then I’ll be able to sleep easier. However, for some strange reason, I found myself not feeling the full sensation during the masturbation. Maybe cause I was sick of it? Or maybe it’s because of the damn freaking slow wi-fi connection, that makes streaming so slow that it’s causing the syiok feeling to dissipate when things was just about to get exciting? I dunno...

At that point in time, a piece of brochure lying on the bedside table caught my eye. The hotel had massage services, even offering to do it in-room so that guests don’t have to travel out to their spa centre. The price was rather steep, around SGD50 for an hour of body massage, compared to the SGD20 that’s being charge for a similar hour of body massage at the foot reflexology parlour in the mall next door where I had my dinner earlier. I begin to wonder if the massage also provided extra service .

Guess there’s only one way to find out as I reached for the hotel phone receiver.

“Hi, do you have any masseuse available now?” I inquired...

[Johnston]

Fuck me, 4 long ass posts of quality warm up and not one single saporker but another "story" with 4 broken sentences have saporker before this?..??


Goddamn. I'm in like flint on this here story

[kentot]

Originally Posted by Johnston

Fuck me, 4 long ass posts of quality warm up and not one single saporker but another "story" with 4 broken sentences have saporker before this?..??

Goddamn. I'm in like flint on this here story

it's ok bro johnston.

i'm not writing this to get supporters or recognition. just wanted to pen down what happened to me that became a part of my life (s)experience - to borrow the quote from Saw II, "yes, there will be sex"

i'm already heartened that u are reading my real life story and voicing out ur support. hope i will find the time to write the story out through till the end.

[kentot]

Apparently, all the masseuses were already booked

The next earliest available slot was 11pm, which was the last slot as the masseuses knock off by midnight. I glanced at my watch. It was only 9.40pm.

“Ok, 11pm then” I confirmed the appointment.

“It’s a lady that will be doing the massage right?” I quickly shot the question before the guy answering on the other line was about to put down the phone.

“Yes sir, all our masseuses are ladies” was his reassuring, somewhat sarcastic reply.

Ok, nothing wrong with just wanting to reaffirm things, right? I mean, the last thing I want happening is to get an ugly shock if the person that comes knocking on my door later turns out to be a guy; or worse still - a gay!!

To kill the time and take my thoughts off the horniness, I started clanking away on my keyboard playing my favourite computer game – FIFA 10. Being so engrossed in the game, I didn’t even notice the time flying by.

Ringggggg... the ringing hotel phone startled me. I got of my seat at the working table to answer the call.

“Sorry sir but there has been some misunderstanding. Apparently, there’s another guest with an 11pm appointment but he asking for double massage (i.e. 2 girls massaging at the same time)” came the familiar voice at the other end. It was the same guy who answered my call earlier on the massage inquiry.

Shit.

So that means the girl that was supposed to massage me at 11pm now has to join her other colleague in order to perform the double massage for that idiotic guest.

“(sighing) It’s ok then... never mind” I relented.

“Sir, if you can wait, I will send the masseuse over to your room at midnight” the guy tried to reason with me.

“But I thought your last timing is 11pm?”

“Don’t worry sir. We can make the arrangements since we made the oversight”

Hmmm... by the time she finishes, that’ll be like 1am!

“Ok then. But this time confirm ah” I answered against my better judgement. Slightly lack of sleep or trying to sleep with blue balls? The latter got my vote.

“Yes sir, confirm”

“Eh, can make sure she’s the slim and sweet type” I asked playfully.

“No problem sir” was the smiled replied.

I went back to playing my FIFA 10.

Ting Tong! The doorbell was followed by knocking on my door. I grabbed my watch. Damn! It’s already midnight without me realising it.

I quickly grabbed a shirt to put on while walking towards the door. Out of the sudden, stupid thoughts begin running through my mind. Midnight hour... the magical timing where ghosts supposedly strike and haunt their victims. What if it’s a ghost that’s actually knocking on my door? What if the guy pulled a fast one on me since the last timing was 11pm after all? What if it wasn't even a real person that called me just now??? On top of that, this is Indonesia, known for their black magic. The hairs on my neck begin to stand on ends and goosebumps appeared on my arms.

Knock! Knock! Knock!
Ting Tong!

A series of knocks and doorbell being pressed sounded again.

Summing up all my courage, I reached for the door knob, said a little prayer, twisted it and opened the door ever so slightly but slowly...

[ludwig19]

Niceee!

[eSSence06]

Originally Posted by ludwig19

Niceee!

powerful lah bro

[kentot]

Thanx to the bro who upped me. Please tell me who u are so that i can return the favour.

Thanx too to sis CruzerBaby who upped me as well. Will try to return the favour asap as i juz used my power to up another bro today

[kentot]

What greeted my sight was that of a guy, grinning from ear-to-ear, standing at the front of my room door. My immediate thought was - WTF? Didn’t I specify for a lady? A woman? A girl? The gender with boobs and a pussy? Was that so difficult to comprehend?

“Pak kentot, your masseuse is here” he spoke before I could say anything, as if he could read what was on my mind.

As he side footed a little to his left, I scarcely made out what was a figure of a woman, dressed in a white blouse and brownish, batik-motif pants, with a little basket carried on her left hand. She was shyly trying to hide behind the guy whilst at the same time trying to take little peeks from behind him.

“Please come in” I invited. Hope the guy understood that I meant the lady and not him.

As if on cue, he promptly stepped completely aside, bowed a little, with his left hand raised perpendicularly to the ground, signalling to the masseuse of the open path into my room. She gingerly walked in, carefully sashaying her way round to the sofa at the end of my room. Meanwhile, the guy thanked me again, pulling the door together with him as he made his leave. Did he just gave me a sly smile and a wink before the door completely closed? I half shrugged it off as my mind tried to focus back on the lady that just stepped in.

After ensuring the door was locked, I turned around to face my masseuse. Well, there’s not much that I can actually ‘face’ - as she had her back to me. What I did notice was her nice, cute round ass as she was bending over, no doubt, prepping the things for the massage. Her frame was rather petite; just how I like them to be . I just stood there, pretending to watch the tv while waiting for her to finish readying her stuff. She finally turned to face me, with towels in one hand and a bottle of lotion on the other.

“Ready pak?” she asked with a smile.

I nodded my head. Acting dumb, I asked her if I needed to do or remove anything.

“Up to you. But my advice is that since you ask for the aromatherapy massage, it’s best not to wear underwear as the oil might stain it”

The ‘light-bulb-over-the-head', 'Aha!' moment quickly came to mind. Was she dropping a hint as to how the massage would go?

I tried to act cool. A wrinkle forming over my forehead, as if giving her suggestion due and proper thought.

“Ok” was my short response as I excused myself to go into the bathroom, took a towel to wrap around me and proceeded to slowly remove my t-shirt, before apprehensively removing my shorts and underwear. Hey, I have to play my part to retain some dignity rather than showing my desperation right?

“Please lie on the bed, face down” she instructed as I lumbered my way to the bed where she had drawn away the comforter and laid a big towel on it. I proceeded to position myself face down on the towel silently awaiting what was to come...

[starbuck]

Support Support. It is always fun for holidays

[GreatCockSuckrr]

Originally Posted by kentot

But my advice is that since you ask for the aromatherapy massage, it’s best not to wear underwear as the oil might stain it”

oil stain and your wife catch u

[kentot]

Originally Posted by starbuck

Support Support. It is always fun for holidays

thanx for the support bro

Originally Posted by GreatCockSuckrr

oil stain and your wife catch u

oil stain can always wash mah

[kentot]

The massage started innocently enough. I could hear her squeezing the lotion onto her hand before she started lathering it all over my left calf. With a little bit of pressure as she worked on it, it sure helped soothe some of the tight muscles from all my walking around meeting my partners this morning.

“Is the pressure ok pak?” she broke the silence.

“Yes, it’s ok” I mumbled under my breath.

I was thinking of a question to continue on the conversation but thought the better of it; wanted to play it steady and build a gradual crescendo.

In such a comfortable position, my eyes begin to slowly but surely get heavy. My mind was beginning to drift to dreamland. The only sounds heard was the sloshing of the aromatherapy oil being lathered onto my legs, along with commentary of a football match coming from the tv. A soft “hmmm...” broke out from my mouth, acknowledging the relief and soothing feel.

What was THAT? The serene sensation I was feeling previously was suddenly being jolted.

There it is again! I was sure this time round that the previous incident was no accident.

At that point, the masseuse was massaging my thighs, starting from the joint at the calf, all the way up. I mean ALL the way up. To my groin area!

The feel of her fingers cum hand brushing against my balls underneath the towel covering my modesty was unmistakeable. My lil bro was slowly being stirred into life from its slumber.

Damn, I’m only 20 mins into my massage and already she’s making a move? Is she trying to quickly get me aroused so that she can just cut short the whole session?

Need to take evasive action quickly or I’m not going to get my money’s worth of the SGD50 massage.

“What’s your name mba?” I initiated project slowdown – to slow down the erection that was beginning to form in my neither regions.

(Quick note again for readers not familiar with Indonesia:
'Mba' is the term used to address a woman in the service industry i.e. waitress etc, whereas ‘Mas’ is the equivalent for a guy)

“My name is A. What’s your name?”

“Just call me kentot”

A: Pak kentot come from where?

K: Singapore

A: Here for work or holiday?

K: Work

A: Are you Malay?”

K: No... I’m Dutch

My reply drew a small giggle from A. Bingo! Ice was breaking nicely.

K: Yes I’m Malay. Why?

A: Singaporeans who come here for work either Chinese or Indian. You are the first Malay.

K: Oh really? So do I get a discount for being your first Singaporean Malay customer?

She broke into a spontaneous laughter.

A: Not discount but maybe I can give you something else.

Shit! Not the answer I wanted to hear as it caused more blood to begin flowing to my lil bro, causing him to spurt to life a little more. Evasive action, evasive action!

K: So how long have you worked as a masseuse?

A: About 3 years.

K: Wow! That’s quite long. You must be an expert by now. Where did you learn to massage?

A: We have a few weeks of training after which it’s more OJT. Pak Kentot, can you please turn around?

Apparently, A has completed massaging my back and now needs to move on to the other side. I tried to turn slowly, careful to hold on to the towel so that my modesty is kept intact. Once I managed to turn completely over, I eased myself into a comfortable position, now getting a better view of A up front. No sooner had I taken up my lying face up position, A grabbed onto the towel that I had painstakingly taken all efforts to not let slip and expose myself, and literally flicked it 1 meter up in the air before letting the towel rest back down to its earlier position. So much for all my trouble trying to keep my modesty.

I wonder if she did that on purpose? Was she trying to check my lil bro out to see how much more effort she has to put in before going in for the kill? Or was she getting turned on?