Two weeks had passed since I last saw Czarina. We were calling each other "Laloves" in our chats and when it was just the two of us. I told her to dress in a way that made her look of legal age. I had no idea how she'd pull that off, just as long as she didn't wear what she did last time.
I got my old motorcycle an oil change—it's a 1977 Yamaha RS100t two-stroke, inherited from my grandpa. It's under my name now, but the registration expired a year ago. It's tuned up nicely, so no worries about the trip. I don't use a top box, just a plastic crate for the passenger to lean on and to stash extra gear. Top boxes get checked at checkpoints, but with a crate, they can see inside, and I slide by without getting stopped. I also got her a helmet. Not sure of Czarina's size, but I figured medium full-face would work.
She showed up at school in a printed white shirt, tucked into acid-washed jeans that are all the rage with the ladies now, and rubber shoes. She had a garment bag like a woven tote and was wearing a face mask. Definitely didn't look like a minor. I secured our stuff in the crate. I warned her not to use her phone while riding, or it might get snatched. She agreed. We left just as the sun was setting.
I took Bonifacio Avenue to get to Novaliches. Avoided McArthur in case there were checkpoints at Monumento. Traffic was heavy, but I'm good at filtering through. In about an hour, we reached Deparo, Caloocan. We couldn't chat because of our helmets. We went through Bagbaguin to Perez, Meycauayan Bulacan, to circle around to Iba Road, heading to McArthur Hi-way. But I took a detour through Pandayan to Marilao, dodging checkpoints. I was taking Czarina to one of my secret spots for when I'm with a minor. You just drive in, and the cashier and attendant don't care who you are. I parked the bike inside a lodging inn. "Go on up," I told Czarina, and she did. If a room's available, the roller shutter door is up, and the door's unlocked. The attendant came by for check-in with a form and receipt.
"Good evening, Sir. Check-in for two? Please sign here and make the payment."
"Uh, Sir, can I order dinner?"
"There's a menu in your room, just call room service to have the food brought up."
"Ah, okay, thanks..." I felt like a newbie at this.
I went up to the room, and the attendant closed the garage door, signaling it was occupied, and opened the small side door. I found Laloves sitting quietly on the edge of the bed.
"Why didn't you turn on the aircon... it's hot. And the TV."
"Not in the mountains," she joked.
"First time in a place like this?"
"Yeah... it's nice. Ha ha... is this a motel?"
"Yeah, it's a motel. But they call it a lodging inn because each room has its own parking. At motels, the parking is common, so privacy isn't great. That's where the mistresses and wives get caught. Ha ha!!!"
"You know a lot, huh!"
"At my age, would you be surprised?"
We laughed.
"Check the menu and order whatever you want. Do you drink?"
"No..."
"Okay, I'll just order for myself."
She looked at the menu and picked classic quarter fried chicken with rice and steamed broccoli. I ordered more: Lomi Batangas, Crispy Pata, two buckets of San Mig Lights, and a pack of Marlboro Lights. I called it all in to the front desk. Soon, I turned on the TV. Laloves laughed at the action scene on channel 112. I tried changing channels, but 124 was the same theme. Then I remembered the local channels listed on the TV. News was on, which I didn't like, but it kept the room's mood light.
I took off my shoes and put on the slippers provided. Got another pair for her and suggested she change too. Then I took off my pants, down to my boxers. I noticed she was taking off her shoes for the slippers. She grabbed her garment bag and went to the bathroom, probably to shower, but she just changed into more comfortable clothes: a thin faded yellow V-neck T-shirt and maroon basketball jersey shorts. She returned to her seat. We stayed silent, so I lay on the bed, and soon she lay beside me.
"Why so quiet?" she asked.
"Just waiting for our food, you might be hungry."
"It's okay, Laloves," she said, hugging me, her face against my cheek.
"Don't you feel awkward with me being this much older than you?"
"No. Laloves, stop simping for me. You got me already, which means if you want to do it again, I won't stop you. No more sadboy stuff."
"I'm not being a sadboy, you know. Respect, Laloves. Just because I'm careful with what I do or say to you doesn't mean I'm simping or being a sadboy."
She wrapped her right arm around my face and kissed my cheek deeply, then sighed.
I turned my face towards her and started whispering dirty words.
"I'm gonna screw you all night, Laloves..."
"Ummmmmmhhhhhhhh..." she responded, our faces close.
"Knock, knock, knock... Sir, room service."
Talk about a mood killer! We separated, and I went to the door to get our food. I paid and tipped. Once the attendant left, I set up our little feast.
"Come on, Laloves, sit here," I invited her to the seat I had set.
"Just eat."
"Do you drink?" she asked as I opened one.
"Yeah. Want to try? Have you ever drunk before?"
"No, it's supposed to be bitter."
"Try one. Just a taste," I opened one for her.
I ate heartily but avoided rice when I could. I shredded the crispy pata, which she liked after finishing her quarter chicken. She slowly sipped the San Mig Lights.
"Didn't you ask for a straw, Laloves?"
"You don't use a straw, it hits you harder if you do."
So, she slowly drank from the bottle.
"How's the taste, Laloves? You finished one."
"Not that bitter. Tastes good, filling, like soda," and I opened another for her.
"Cheers, Laloves!" I made a toasting gesture, and she followed. We drank in unison; she only managed a couple of gulps, while I finished mine.
"You're turning red."
"Uhhmm. Yeah, I feel a bit dizzy."
I took the empty plates and utensils and put them on the tray outside the room for pickup.
"How about another bottle? So you can feel what it's like to get drunk."
"You're trying to get me drunk, Laloves... He he... You have plans..."
"Busted!" I joked. I opened another for her and one more for me. She took it and slowly drank. I think she was starting to enjoy it.
"That's the last bottle," and she got quiet, so I helped her lie down on the bed. I cleaned up the empty bottles and took them outside.
Soon, a tipsy Czarina started talking.
"Laloves, I want more..."
"You're drunk, Laloves, just lie down."
"No... let's drink more..." she stretched and rolled around on the bed.
"Okay, let's drink more, but you're going to be my snack," I joked, testing the waters.
"Sure, Laloves... I want that. Hurry up..." so I brought two more bottles for us. I also fetched the two buckets of beer, placing them on the corner table. We drank on the bed.
"You're my snack, Laloves. I'm going to eat you up."
"Whatever. I'll eat you too!"
"Can you handle it?"
"Yeah!!"
"Show me how."
"Come here," she slurred like a seasoned drinker.
"Here... Here..." she insisted I kneel in front of her while she sat on the bed's edge. I let her, knowing what she was up to. She pulled down my boxers, exposing my semi-hard dick.
"So, what are you going to do with that?" I mimicked her drunken tone.
"Before drinking beer... you need a snack first!"
"How?"
"Like this," and she suddenly took my dick in her mouth, but I held back the ticklish feeling to keep my stamina. She moved her head back and forth, my semi-hard dick sliding in and out of her mouth. Basic stuff. She paused, took a swig from the bottle, and then continued.
"Your turn, Laloves... Oh, wait, let's play Jack en Poy. If you lose, I get to choose. If I lose, you get to choose!"
"First rock, paper, scissors..." we chanted.
I had paper, she had scissors.
"You lost, Laloves! I get to choose!!!" and she took my dick back into her mouth, while I held my scissors hand up, confused by her rules. "Oh, I get it. She's messing with me," I thought.
"Uummmhh.." she heard my arousal, so she tightened her mouth and deep-throated me. I understood now... Like me, Laloves was a giver-type, getting turned on by seeing her partner enjoy the foreplay.
My dick was rock hard, but I tried not to cum.
"Okay, one more, Laloves! If you lose, I get to choose anything!" I warned playfully.
Here comes the ultimate showdown of two Giver-Types!
"First rock, paper, scissors... pick!!!"