📍 Quezon City, Philippines, 2025
The rain’s a heavy curtain, hiding us in a Quezon City alley outside Luzon’s Den. I’m Aisha Mercado, 24, and Carlo’s lips are crashing into mine, his penis hard against my thigh through his jeans, sending heat straight to my vagina.
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My tank top’s soaked, clinging to my breasts, and he lifts it, his mouth finding my nipples, sucking them like they’re his salvation.
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“Ooh, Carlo,” I moan, my waist grinding against him, my voice a wild song of passion—“aahs” and “oohs” spilling like waves in the storm.
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His fingers brush my vagina through my jeans, teasing, and we’re having sex in spirit, not fully inside but so close my legs shake, my vagina dripping with need.
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The rain drenches us, but I’m burning, lost in his touch, until a voice cuts through:
“Aisha, you okay?”
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I pull back, my breasts heaving, my vagina still throbbing. It’s Rafael, standing under a streetlight, his black shirt clinging to his muscled chest, his starry eyes locked on me.
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My vagina clenches again, imagining his penis, and I hate how my body betrays me. Carlo glares at him, his torn shirt showing his bruises, his penis still outlined in his jeans.
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“Who the fuck are you?” he snaps, his hands still on my waist.
“Someone who doesn’t want her hurt,” Rafael says, stepping closer, his gaze sliding over my breasts, making my nipples harden.
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His fingers brush my arm, then my waist, and I moan softly, an “aah” escaping as I picture us having sex, his penis filling me in ways Carlo can’t.
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My phone buzzes, snapping me back—Lila, my 16-year-old sister:
“Ate, where are you? Mama’s pissed, and some guy came by the stall asking for you.”
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My breasts tighten with fear. Rico’s men, already? Carlo’s grip tightens, but his eyes are scared, not strong.
“What guy?” I ask, my voice shaky.
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Before he can answer, Benny, the wiry 20-year-old who runs errands for Mama, jogs up, his t-shirt soaked.
“Aisha, it’s bad,” he says, glancing at Rafael nervously.
“Some dude with a gold tooth was at the stall, talking to Mama. Said you better show up soon.”
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My heart sinks. Gold-Tooth, Rico’s enforcer, is hunting me because of Carlo’s debt. Ten thousand pesos—a fortune we don’t have.
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The alley’s dark, littered with trash and graffiti, and the rain’s relentless, mirroring the chaos in my chest.
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Carlo pulls me close, his lips brushing my neck again, but it’s not enough to drown the fear.
“I’ll fix this, Aisha,” he whispers, his hands squeezing my breasts, and my vagina pulses, wanting him despite everything.
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But Rafael’s watching, his presence a fire I can’t ignore.
“Take me home,” I tell Carlo, but my eyes linger on Rafael.
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He steps closer, his cologne wrapping around me, his fingers grazing my waist again.
“You don’t need this mess, Aisha,” he says, his voice low, and my vagina aches, imagining his penis, his hands on my breasts.
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I push the thought away, but it’s too late—my body’s screaming for him.
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Benny shifts nervously.
“Aisha, Lila’s freaking out. You gotta go.”
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My phone buzzes again—Lila:
“Ate, he’s back. Mama’s scared.”
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My breasts heave, panic mixing with the heat still burning in my vagina.
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Carlo’s useless, his promises empty, and Rafael’s offering something—salvation or danger, I don’t know.
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The rain keeps falling, Quezon City’s neon lights blurring, and I’m caught in a storm of love and fear, with my sister’s safety on the line and no way out.
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Author’s Note:
Yo, loves! Aisha’s in DEEP trouble! 😈 That alley scene with Carlo was pure fire, but Rafael’s kilig vibes are stealing the show, and Gold-Tooth’s threat is no joke.
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Lila’s texts are scary—what’s next?
Vote: Team Carlo or Team Rafael?
Tell me what you want in Chapter Four—more steamy moments, Lila’s fear, or Rico’s crew closing in?
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Drop your thoughts, and I’ll update soon! 🌧️🔥
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