Marisel One

Marisel awoke with a start. In the yard behind the house, the cock rooster was flapping its wings, preparing to announce the arrival of the dawn of a new day. Beside her, Rhida snored lightly. Marisel smiled. Rhida was her younger sister. She was sixteen and in year five of high school, where she was doing well. The family hoped she could win one of her school's few, much-prized scholarships and go to college. If she did, she would be the first in the family to achieve such a feat. Marisel loved her younger sister and would do anything for her. If Rhida had known of the sacrifice her older sister had made for her, she would have been horrified and sad.

Marisel glanced at the cheap, plastic clock on the cardboard box, which served as a makeshift table. It was 5.30 am, and the house was stirring to life. She could already hear the subdued mutterings and laughter from her brothers' room. Ben, Johnny and Joe Junior were dirt farmers, tending a small strip of land adjoining the house. Here, they grew a variety of crops for market and home consumption. They also rented another piece of land down by the river, where they grew rice, a precarious but essential crop, which in previous years had decided the fate of the family finances for the entire year.

They had a good crop in some years and grew sufficient rice to feed the family with enough left to sell at the market. Those were the fat years. In other years, the crop failed when the rains came early or were particularly heavy. Then, the family had to dig into precious peso resources to buy rice. Luxuries such as meat and fish were rarely seen in the kitchen at this time. During times of particular hardship, the family lived on camote tops. This common weed grew by the side of the road and, although bitter and inedible when raw, if boiled for an hour and mixed with rice and, if available, a can of sardines or corned beef, made a cheap and nutritious, if not a particularly tasty meal.

That was until Marisel became the chief breadwinner. Now, they had meat or fish almost every day. And, more importantly, they could afford the school fees for Rhida.

Marisel rose quietly and let herself out of the back door into the yard, which was the preserve of the cock, who was now busily competing with other local chickens to decide which could make the most noise. The cock was the pride and joy of Ben, the oldest of the brothers. Marisel had given him the money to buy the bird he trained as a fighter and took down to the local cockpit every Sunday. The bird had proved a good fighter and won all its five fights, earning Ben and the family good money in prize money purses and betting winnings. When, as was inevitable, the cock met a rival who was the more robust, luckier, or a better fighter, then the family would have lost a good earner but gained a chicken for the pot that night.

Marisel entered the small outhouse as a combined toilet and ablution area. She lifted the shift that she slept in and squatted to urinate into the open drain that ran through the privy and out to a slurry pit behind the house. She wiped herself with a square of old newspaper, which she dropped into the plastic bucket beside her.

She thought about her busy upcoming day. Today, she was meeting with Jonathan, the money man. He knew little of her real life and the struggles she endured and no doubt cared even less. Life, for him, was a universe away from the complex realities of survival that she and millions of others faced daily to get by, such as where the next meal was coming from. Jonathan had money and had become an essential cog in the machinery of her life.

She would soon have to get ready for her trip into the city. She had arranged to meet Jonathan at 1 pm, and he got angry if she was late. Although Manila was only about fifty kilometres from her home, the traffic was unpredictable but usually very heavy. Sometimes, it could take her up to four hours to travel the relatively short distance, so to ensure she wasn't late for her meeting with Jonathan, she would leave at 8 am. This would allow her six hours to reach her destination, which was a short-time motel close to Jonathan's home. Jonathan hated Manila traffic jams and rarely travelled more than a mile or two from his home. So everything and everyone had to come to him. Being rich had its benefits.

Returning to the house to get her towel, Marisel met her Mama, newly awake from bed, hair tousled and looking much older than her forty two years. She'd had a hard life. Widowed at thirty and bringing up five children virtually alone had taken a heavy toll on her body. Marisel loved and respected her mother and wouldn't dare to tell her where the new money came from. As far as her Mama knew, Marisol was engaged in occasional modelling work in Manila. Mama had a difficult enough life, and Marisel did not want to add further to her many burdens. Marisel kissed her mother on the cheek and then busied herself, getting ready for her trip into the city.

Jonathan One

Jonathan raised the cup to his lips and sipped the strong black brew within. He had found the coffee shop a few weeks before and enjoyed their excellent Americano. The cafe was set back slightly from the busy road and had an outside veranda. Here, he could sit and observe the world go by. That was one of his more innocent pleasures. It was also only a short 'moto-tricy' ride from his rented room, which was also a plus.

He had lived in Manila for nearly a year. He had a distinct love/hate thing going with the place. He thoroughly detested the dirt, smog-filled air and crazy traffic, which made even the shortest trip an ordeal. But he loved the warm, welcoming Filipino people with their incredible resilience and positive attitude to life. But what kept him here, like a moth irresistibly drawn to light and unable to break free, were the Filipina girls and one in particular.

Jonathan had changed much since his arrival in South East Asia. It was hard to believe that it was a little over a year since he had first stepped off the plane in steamy Suvarnabhumi Airport, Bangkok and jumped into a taxi to go to Pattaya

Pattaya, with its many girls, had come as an immense culture shock to Jonathan, who had only had one real sex partner in his life: his ex-wife. He had married her when he was eighteen, and she was sixteen-their wedding night had been a hilarious wash-out, with neither quite being sure of what went where! Their sex life, since that abortive start, had been far from perfect, and in the last ten years, as they drifted apart, non-existent. They had, however, somehow managed to have two children, both of whom were now married and settled with their own kids.

Pattaya, with its twenty-four-seven, in-your-face sex industry, had been an enormously exciting novelty for a man who had led such a sheltered life up to that point. That first night, he had entered one of the many girly bars close to the hotel where he was staying. He was immediately mobbed by a group of near-naked young ladies who guided him through the crowded bar to a seat where he could survey the entire bar. He was astonished to see naked girls frolicking in what appeared to be a jacuzzi. Naked or near-naked girls were everywhere, and one attractive-looking girl approached him and, without being asked, sat down next to him and grabbed his penis and testicles none too gently. He nearly spewed the Singha beer he was drinking all over her!

After this unconventional introduction, Jonathan never looked back. He bar-fined the girl, meaning that he had paid the bar to take the girl from the bar and back to his hotel room. Jonathan had made a separate financial arrangement with the girl named Jip. Sex with Jip was not particularly good as he was unfit and out of practice, but he couldn't believe that here he was, a man of fifty-eight, having sex with a twenty-year-old girl. Amazing. He was hooked.

Jip insisted on leaving the hotel immediately after Jonathan had finished, which was fine. He had a lot to think about, and there were thousands more girls outside; should he get lonely?

Since that inauspicious beginning, Jonathan had fucked at least a hundred different girls ranging in age from 18 to 40 and a couple of ladyboys too. If he had known ten years ago what his older self would be doing a few years later, he would have been astonished and unbelieving.

But now that most of the money had gone, he was not too bothered. He had enjoyed the time of his life, doing things that beggared belief and loved every minute. He had memories that would sustain him through the, no doubt, hard days to come when he returned home to the stark realities that he would find there.

His only regret was Marisel. He had met her at LA Cafe in Ermita, a notorious twenty-four-seven freelancer pick-up joint where young and not-so-young ladies congregated to meet local and foreign guys. She said it was her first time in the place which a friend had told her about. Although Jonathan would usually take such pronouncements with a healthy pinch of salt, for some reason, he believed her.

She was a beauty indeed, and he was lucky to have been sat by the door when she had first entered the bar, blinking to regain her focus after stepping from the bright glare of a Manila day to the gloom of the bar. He knew that a girl of this quality would be snatched up quickly by one of the bar's long-timers, who was always on the lookout for fresh meat to fuck. So he had to move fast.

Jonathan said 'Hello', and the girl, momentarily startled, tripped and put out her hand to stop a fall. Her hand landed in his crotch. Surprised, he fell back and nearly knocked over the drinks on an adjoining table.

Marisel snatched her hand away, horrified, and to save her face, he said

'You know, in the UK, my country, UK, we usually introduce ourselves by shaking hands'.

Jonathan smiled at the memory. He had taken Marisel from the bar that afternoon and got a taxi to a nearby hot sheeter motel where he had fucked her three times in as many hours, which was a virtual miracle for him. Previously, he had struggled to manage two rounds, even with real hotties. But this girl was red hot, and his sex metabolism must have geared into overdrive, driven by this beautiful woman. At that moment, he became determined to hold on to her as long as he could.

When Jonathan had broached the matter with Marisel, she had been enthusiastic about being his long-term girlfriend and meeting twice a week for the foreseeable future.

Maricel Two

Marisel was in the mall, almost opposite the motel where they always met. She had made good time today with the traffic not as bad as it can be. She was pleased to have a little downtime when she could window shop without distractions. And she could get her favourite Jollibee meal of fried chicken with a side of Jollibee's famous spaghetti. She didn't mind its pink colour. Some said it glowed in the dark, but she loved it, and it was a rare treat as she seldom spent money on herself. All she earned went to Mama to buy food and essentials and pay Rhida's school fees. There was rarely any left after all the bills were paid, but as she left this morning, Mama had slipped an extra two-hundred pesos into her hand with the bus money.

She wondered what games Jonathan had planned for this meeting. He had soon tired of just regular sex and liked to 'spice up the fun', as he put it. So Marisel never knew what to expect each time they met. He brought various toys and uniforms which she had to use or wear. One week he had got a large eggplant which Marisel was expected to vigourishly fuck herself with whilst sucking his cock as he videoed the event. From the first meeting, he always insisted on filming or taking photographs of everything they did together. Marisel had no choice but to smile and go along with it. Her Mama and sister needed the money. He said they were for his private viewing, but she worried he was selling them or putting them on the internet where someone who knew her might see them. This fear was her worst nightmare because Filipinos were inveterate gossip, and such a thing was not a secret for very long. But what could she do?

He had also, very soon after they first met, coerced her into having anal sex. She had never done this before, but Jonathan said all the girls did it now, and he would use plenty of lubrication to make it easy. But Jonathan's cock was huge, and for the first time, it had been very hard for her. It felt like she had been split in two and hurt horribly, but that didn't stop Jonathan, who seemed to be whipped into a greater frenzy by her obvious discomfort, driving his cock harder and deeper until, with one mighty thrust which had her biting her hand to hold back a scream, he orgasmed inside her. Going home that afternoon on the bus, she cried quietly to herself as the act of sitting on the poorly upholstered seats caused her much pain. He did it now at nearly every meeting, and she had gotten used to it, but it still hurt like hell.

She checked her watch. It was a quarter to one, and she guessed it was time to make her way to the motel. Jonathan would text her soon to give the room number. He was very rarely late. She sighed and started walking out of the mall and into the hot, humid, fume-filled, barely breathable Manila air. She headed towards the walkway bridge, which crossed the busy road to the motel on the other side.

Jonathan Two

Jonathan had arrived by taxi five minutes earlier. He was well known at the motel, tipped well, and was quickly checked in for his customary three-hour stay. Jonathan was pleased that he had been given one of the themed rooms. He liked this motel. The staff were reasonably discrete and did not giggle and make jokes about him as had happened in other motels. He failed to understand the joke. Almost every guest in the place was here for sex, so what was the novelty? He supposed it was because he was a foreigner, but Manila was full of foreigners here to fuck themselves silly with Filipina girls. Maybe it was his age, but he had me guys in their seventies and even eighties still active and shagging girls. He would never understand the Piinoy psyche. It was beyond his comprehension.

He let himself into the themed room. The theme in this one appeared to be based around a fantasy alien world, with the central theme being women with big guns and no knickers. At least, that is what it looked like to him. The guy who designed this room must have eaten too many magic mushrooms or smoked some strong wacky baccy.

He had no sooner visited the bathroom and set out the objects and toys he would use on Marisel today when there was a faint knocking at the door. Thinking it was the boy with fresh towels, he flung open the door, but it wasn't the boy. It was his fucktoy. He always thought of Marisel as such and even called her this sometimes to her face. She always smiled at this, so obviously, she didn't mind. He never really thought of her as a real person at all. She was a mere sex doll to be fucked in all holes and then put back into the cupboard afterwards. Only this fucktoy did not have to be cleaned after a long, sweaty session. She was self-cleaning.

Jonathan liked to begin activities in the shower. Here under the lukewarm stream, he ran his hands up and down Marisel's shapely brown body, squeezing those firm breasts and sliding his fingers into her tight cunt, whilst he kissed her lips passionately. He couldn't get enough of this girl. No other had made him as horny as Marisel. He wanted to kiss, lick or nibble every square inch of her.

When they finished showering, he quickly towelled himself dry, jumped onto the enormous bed, and bade Marisel to join him.

Above them, on the ceiling above the bed, a large, full-length mirror reflected the large, older man as he crouched between the much smaller brown girl's wide open legs. During their previous meeting, Jonathan had almost managed to fist Marisel; this time, he hoped to achieve this seemingly impossible task.

Using a combination of lube, fingers and cucumber, he was able to stretch her tight cunt a little more each time. Marisel moaned as Jonathan inserted the object deep into her pussy. As the mixture of saliva, lubricant and her vaginal secretions opened it up, he was able to increase the pace and depth of insertion until he was ramming hard and deep into her twat.

Jonathan loved how Marisol submitted to these indignities without complaint. She was just so very submissive; she let him do just about anything he wanted. His excitement mounted as he withdrew the cucumber and inserted first fingers and then gradually his entire hand into her vaginal passage. He could hardly believe that such a tiny pussy was able to stretch so much as to take his whole, rather large hand, but he supposed that this was its primary function to accommodate a baby's head coming from the other direction. He fisted her for a little while, enjoying the unusual sensation of her warm cunt around his hand like a living glove as he managed to get it as deep as his wrist.

Jonathan knew this probably was to be his last meeting with this wonderfully subservient girl, so he was intensely aware of the need to store as much in the memory banks as possible to warm him on the future cold days in the UK ahead. He had hours of Marisel on video, being fucked in every way that his inventive imagination could conceive, and he had poured gallons of sperm over her face, down her throat and into her cunt and ass. But he wanted more.

There was one thing that he had yet to do with her. That was the glorious triumvirate of cunt and ass-to-mouth bareback. He shivered in excited anticipation of fucking her pussy and ass and then making her suck him clean of her bodily waste. That would be something to masturbate over and again in the future.

He withdrew his hand from Marisel's cunt which was, by now, red and rather swollen-looking. He ought to give her poor pussy a little rest and time to recover from the misuse it had endured during the fisting. So he flipped her over onto her belly and lifted her ass to ready her for anal penetration. Marisel knew what was to come and obediently adopted the position to allow Jonathan full access. She was such a good girl. Jonathan grabbed his camera and started shooting as he prepared to begin.

Jonathan manoeuvred Marisel to the edge of the mattress. The bed was the perfect height to enable him to enter her standing. With his added purchase from having his feet on the ground, he could give it to her as deep and hard as he could.

'Let's get ready to rumble', Jonathan silently mouthed as he began to insert his, by now, rock-hard eight inches into this young girl's tight little ass. As was usual, he met with the initial resistance as her anal sphincter resisted the alien invasion. Still, with a little more force, he felt her muscle relax, and his entire length slid easily into her like it was tailor-made for him alone.

Beginning slowly, Jonathan gradually picked up the pace, and before long, he was pounding her hard and deep. Marisel grunted as each stroke reached its fulcrum with a slapping sound as belly hit buttocks. The bed creaked and squeaked piteously as if in sympathy with the girl getting her ass fucked on top of it. But Jonathan heard nothing, so intent was he on driving his member deep into this lovely fucktoy for perhaps the last time.

It was at this point, as Jonathan prepared to withdraw his throbbing cock from his Marisel's ass to start a serious mouth fuck, that the giant with the enormous sledgehammer struck him squarely in the centre of his back. At least, that is how it felt as a gigantic, agonising pain ripped through the very core of him. He lifted himself off Marisel, his cock, already beginning to shrink, dripping his seed as it slid out of her ass, and he fell back onto the bed with his hands clutching his chest and gasping for air like a drowning man desperately trying to keep his head above water.

'What is happening to me?' he gasped. But he already knew the answer to that. A few years earlier, he had survived a major health scare when he had collapsed during a Sunday afternoon kickabout with mates. The pain that he felt that day before he descended into unconsciousness, had been similar to that which he is feeling now.

'At least, if I am dying, I am going in the very best way a man can die. With his cock still semi-hard and spurting cum after being sunk balls-deep in a beautiful girl.’

He grimaced as the pain ripped through him again. He felt himself sinking into blackness. When he came to seemingly seconds later, he turned his head expecting to see Marisel, perhaps worried and weeping at her boyfriend's serious health predicament, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had she left already? He hoped that if she had run away in panic, she had first informed the motel staff of his emergency and need of a doctor or paramedic.

As he began to sink again into the welcome depths of unconsciousness where the unbearable pain was unable to reach him, he wondered if Marisel had, before she had fled the room, thought to look inside the money belt that he habitually carried and which was hung up in the bathroom. He had always trusted Marisel not to touch it during their meetings, and so far, his trust had not been misplaced. But she will need money for her family and surely would have looked in the pocket of the money belt before fleeing and taking her well-earned stipend. This time, there was only much more in there than her usual three-thousand pesos allowance and the usual few hundred that Jonathan always carried for the taxi, food, etc. For today, before their meeting, he had withdrawn a large sum from a nearby ATM to buy an airline ticket to take him back home. Only now, he probably wouldn't need it, and he hoped that Marisel had taken it for her sister and mother rather than ending up in the pocket of one of the hotel employees.

Jonathan's head fell back onto the bed as he felt his life seeping from his body. He closed his eyes and thought one last time about Marisol and what they had done together, and despite the pain, he smiled.

He did not hear the door flung open as the paramedical emergency team rushed into the room.

Marisel Three

Marisel tried to slow her pace as she walked towards the bus station to catch her bus home. She was sweating profusely, and this might attract unwanted attention. Filipinas rarely sweat as they are seemingly immune to the sticky heat of the city. But Marisel had expended more nervous energy in the preceding thirty minutes than she had ever done in her life before.

Jonathan's apparent heart attack had come as a big shock to Marisol. She had run the last hour's events through her head repeatedly. As he approached his climax, she heard him give a loud grunt as he came, and she felt his warm semen fill her bowels. She had expected to receive a slap on the bottom, the usual signal to let her know the ordeal was over. But there had been no slap, and when she looked back to see why, she was astonished to see Jonathan clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath. She knew immediately that this was not good.

At first, Marisel was unsure what to do and paced naked around the room. She wondered if she should call reception and ask for assistance but immediately dropped that idea. She knew that if the police arrived as they undoubtedly would, especially as this involved a foreigner, she would be in trouble. There would be no stopping the story from hitting the gutter press, and her name and photograph would be all over the tabloids tomorrow.

Jonathan appeared to have fallen asleep, or maybe he was unconscious. His breathing had become more laboured, and she was afraid that he was dying. She remembered, as a little girl, hearing a similar noise coming from her grandfather as he lay dying after a massive stroke. The memory of Pops, as he was affectionately known, decided what she had to do.

She rushed to the bathroom and quickly washed away the sweat and semen (and a little blood) from her body and quickly towelled herself dry. Then she collected everything that connected her to Jonathan, not forgetting to remove the SD card from the camera. She found Jonathan's cell phone in his trousers pocket and was relieved to be able to access and delete his recent text messages and her contact details. She then retrieved his money belt from the bathroom, intending to take only the three thousand pesos he owed her.

She was astonished to find a large bundle of light blue thousand pesos notes in the front pocket of the belt. There must have been at least fifty thousand pesos. She couldn't understand why Jonathan, who was usually so careful about not carrying large sums of money on his person in crime-ridden Manila, had such a considerable amount in his money belt.

Her first thought was to return the notes, less her three thousand, to his money belt, but then she realised where she was. She had no doubt that the money would disappear into the pocket of the first person who found it, whether it be a motel employee, policeman or medic. Filipinos are no more dishonest than any other race or nationality and were, if anything, generally more honest than most. Still, the temptation of such a sum for poorly paid room attendants or police officers would be irresistible.

No. She would take the money home and keep it safe for him. If he survived, he would no doubt get in touch, and she would return the money. She would assume the worst if he did not get in touch. Such an amount would be life-changing for Marisel and her family. Rhida could finish school and begin college without worrying about where the money came from.

Decided on her actions, Marisel quickly dressed and got all her stuff together, including the money less a few thousand she left in the money belt. She took one final glance at Jonathan, who seemed still unconscious, before quietly letting herself out of the room and slipping away. When she was a sufficient distance from the motel, she called the reception desk, told them of the medical emergency in the named room, and asked them to call an ambulance.

This done, Marisel lost herself in the thronging masses of the bus station.