Cindel’s Overflow – Kuya Ukay
By Cindel3435
May isang ukay-ukayan sa kanto na matagal ko nang suki. Hindi lang dahil mura ang damit, kundi dahil may charm ang lugar—parang may sarili siyang personality. At lately, mas naging interesting ‘yung shop… dahil sa bagong bantay.
Hindi ko agad napansin noong una, pero mula sa dating payat at maitim na binatilyo, napalitan ito ng isang lalaking matangkad, maputi, chinito, may konting tummy na parang bonus sa daddy vibes niya. Tahimik. Marespeto. Pero may kung anong quiet magnetism na hindi ko maipaliwanag.
At ang pinaka plus? Lagi niya akong binibigyan ng discount. “Para sa’yo, less na ‘yan,” laging biro niya. Kaya kahit minsan wala akong planong bumili, dumadaan pa rin ako—“window shopping” kuno, pero ang totoo, gusto ko lang makita siya.
One humid afternoon, dumaan ako para maghanap ng black dress. May dinner akong pupuntahan at kailangan ko ng something sleek pero simple. Nakapili ako ng isa—body-hugging, may pa-deep back. Tinungo ko ang fitting room at agad kong sinukat.
Pero may problema… Wala akong bra. Naka-tshirt lang kasi ako na may pads. Kaya nung sinubukan ko ‘yung dress, hindi ko maabot ‘yung hook sa likod. Medyo awkward kasi napaka-init sa fitting area—walang aircon, walang bentilador. Lalong tumindi ang init, pero hindi lang sa katawan… kundi pati sa loob.
Kaya lumabas ako nang bahagya at tinawag ko siya.
“Kuya, pa-assist naman… I can’t reach the back hook,” sabi ko habang hawak ang strap ng dress.
Medyo nag-alinlangan pa siya. “Sigurado ka, madam?”
Tumango lang ako. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?
Pumasok siya sa loob ng kurtina. Tumayo sa likod ko habang hawak ko ang harapan ng dress para hindi dumulas. Ramdam ko ang mainit niyang hininga sa batok ko habang sinusubukang ayusin ang strap. Halos magdikit ang balat naming dalawa—pawisan, mainit, tensyonado.
Then suddenly… slip.
Bumigay ang hook at tuluyang bumulusok ang dress. Tumambad sa salamin ang buong harapan ko—walang bra, walang preno. Napahawak siya agad sa gilid ng dress pero pareho kaming natigilan. Ako, nakatitig sa repleksyon namin; siya, mabilis na umiwas ng tingin.
Pero kahit umiwas siya, hindi ko pinalampas ang subtle smirk sa labi niya.
I fixed the dress quickly, but deep inside? My pulse was racing. The heat, the silence, the tension. It was all too much… and I kinda liked it.
I stepped out a few minutes later, as if nothing happened. Pero ‘yung titig niya habang binabalik ko ang dress sa hanger? That said it all.
Something changed… and I’m not sure if I want it to stop.
______
Nagpunta ulit ako sa ukay, this time may target talaga ako—maghanap ng perfect na black trouser pants. Pang semi-formal look, pang “I’m serious but still sexy” vibe. As usual, late na ako dumating. And as expected, siya lang ang bantay.
Nang makapili ako ng ilang trousers, diretso agad ako sa fitting room. Suot ko noon ang paborito kong manipis na cycling shorts under a short flowy dress. Walang hassle dapat, mabilis lang sana ang pagsukat.
Pero habang nagmamadali akong isuot ang isa sa mga trousers—medyo masikip ‘yung garter area, so hinila ko pababa sabay tulak pataas sa legs ko—hindi ko namalayan na hindi lang pala trousers ang nahila.
Naramdaman ko nalang na parang malamig sa baba.
Tumapat ako sa salamin… at ayun nga. Lumulutang ang puting manipis kong thong sa gitna ng garter ng cycling shorts na sumama sa trousers.
Napaupo ako sa tawa. I tried to fix it agad, pero too late—may shadow sa ilalim ng kurtina ng fitting area. He was standing just outside, siguro naghihintay ng comment kung okay ba ang fit.
“Okay ka lang d’yan?” tanong niya.
“Yeah… just adjusting,” sagot ko with a grin he couldn’t see—but could definitely feel.
Sinadya kong hindi agad ayusin. Tumayo ako ulit sa salamin, tinitigan ang sarili, kunwaring may sinisilip sa fit. Pero ang totoo, gusto ko lang makita kung gano ka-obvious ang nakasilip na tela ng tukso.
Maya-maya, tumawag siya ng mahina. “Madam, may kailangan po ba kayo?”
I bit my lip. “Hmm… maybe you can help me zip this up?”
Pagbukas ko ng kurtina ng bahagya, I made sure na tama lang ang bukas—just enough para makita niya ang ayos ko. Nakataas ang trousers sa tuhod, cycling shorts kalahating kita, at ang white thong na parang sinadya talagang umeksena.
Nagtagpo ang mata namin. He swallowed hard.
“ayos lang po kayo?” tanong niya.
I just smiled. “Mukha bang okay ako?”
He didn’t answer—but that silence? Full of tension. And want.
I closed the curtain slowly, leaving a little gap.
A new line was crossed that night.
Nakasuot pa rin ako ng trousers na sinukat ko kanina. Pero hindi pa rin ayos ang suot kong cycling shorts sa loob—intentionally undone. Nang tumayo ako sa harap ng salamin, alam kong nanonood siya mula sa gilid ng shop, kunwaring nag-aayos ng mga hanger. Pero ramdam kong ang bawat kilos ko ay sinusundan ng mata niya.
I adjusted my stance—arched a little, moved my hips from side to side—just enough to make things look accidental. Just enough to show a little too much.
The trousers slid down a bit. Just a little. But it was enough for the string of my thong to peek out, cutting a sharp contrast against my skin. And I knew he saw it. He didn’t need to say anything. I didn’t need to look back to confirm. The way the air shifted, the way time paused—everything spoke louder than words.
The tension? Electric. Like the air before a storm.
I leaned against the wooden table where the folded clothes rested, letting the trousers fall to my knees as if they had a mind of their own. The thin cycling shorts I wore barely held on to decency. And when I bent slightly to ‘fix’ the hem—my thong teased the light, shimmering with sweat and mischief.
Every motion was deliberate, laced with sin but masked by grace.
He moved closer. I felt the warmth behind me before I heard it. No words exchanged. No names. Just breath. Just need. Just a shared silence filled with heavy stares and pulsing heat.
He touched my waist. A single, heavy hand. It wasn’t rough—but firm, full of control. His presence pressed into my back, and I welcomed it like a secret I’d been dying to share.
The space between us disappeared.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even care. It was raw. Curious. A moment stolen in the dark, surrounded by piles of forgotten clothes and closed zippers. But in that instant, I was seen. Desired. Worshipped like a silhouette in low light.
The rest was a blur of sweat, skin, and clothes that barely stayed on. A short story written in moans and gasps, narrated by the soft creaking of the floor and the muted hum of the electric fan.
When it ended, we both stood still—silent witnesses to a moment that could never be spoken of. Only remembered in glances. Only relived in shadows.
Sa sunod na araw, tinungo ko ulit ang ukayan, madilim sa likod ng ukayan. Isang makipot na espasyo sa pagitan ng mga lumang karton, racks ng hindi pa nabe-benta, at mga sako ng panindang tila kinalimutan na ng panahon. Walang bentilador. Walang hangin. Ang init ng gabi ay parang pumulupot sa balat naming dalawa, habang kami’y parehong tahimik—pero parehong sabik.
Tumalikod ako, dahan-dahang inilapat ang kamay ko sa pader habang naririnig ko ang marahang pagsabay niya. I could feel his presence behind me, yung init ng katawan niyang halos dumikit sa likod ko. I didn’t even have to look—alam kong he’s watching everything. From the way my cycling shorts hugged my curves, to how my back arched ever so slightly, inviting.
I moved slowly, as if stretching, pero may pakay. I lifted my shirt just above my waist, exposing a sliver of skin—mainit, basa sa pawis, at parang nang-aakit ng ilaw na wala naman. Tiningnan niya ‘ko ng matagal, hindi gumagalaw, pero kitang-kita ang struggle sa mga mata niya.
Then he stepped closer.
His hands hovered for a second, like he was asking permission without words. Then—skin. Mainit ang palad niya habang bumaba ang mga ito mula bewang ko, hanggang sa humawak siya sa balakang. I gasped quietly, not in shock—but in anticipation.
I pressed myself against him, marahan, ngunit sapat para malaman niyang hindi ako nagbibiro.
He responded. His hands became firmer. His breath grew heavier.
Dahan-dahan niya akong pinihit paharap. My back against the rough wall, eyes locked onto his. He leaned in—lips brushing my jaw, then my collarbone, then lower. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him not to stop. Hindi na kailangan ng salita. Every movement spoke louder than any moan could.
I felt his hands glide down, thumbs sliding along the waistband of my cycling shorts. He knelt, eyes on mine, as he slowly tugged them down. Sa pagmamadali, hindi lang ang shorts ang nahila—pati ang manipis kong thong na kulay itim. I gasped again, both of us caught off guard—but neither of us wanting to stop.
He took his time. Exploring. Tasting.
My knees trembled as I held onto the nearby rack, trying not to lose balance habang ang katawan ko’y parang nauupos sa sensasyon. My chest heaved, my breath ragged, as he continued to indulge himself like a man starved for days.
Then he stood. Kissed me hard. And without warning, lifted me up, as if I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his hips, and he pressed me against the wall—hot, eager, desperate. My head fell back, a silent moan escaping my lips, as he moved with intention—slow, firm, and deep.
Bodies slick with sweat, rhythm building with every thrust, every muffled breath. Parang sayaw na walang musika—pero bawat galaw ay eksaktong nasa tamang beat.
Walang sinayang na segundo. Walang sinayang na haplos.
Hanggang sa pareho kaming tuluyang bumigay—sabay ang bagsak ng katawan namin sa isa’t isa, hinihingal, mabigat ang dibdib, pero magaan ang pakiramdam.
We stayed there for a few seconds, catching our breath. His head resting on my shoulder, mine against his chest.
Then we fixed ourselves in silence—parehong hindi makatingin sa isa’t isa, pero parehong alam kung anong nangyari sa pagitan namin.
Sa labas, tahimik ang gabi. Pero sa likod ng ukayan—isang lihim na hinding-hindi malilimutan.
Hindi ko naman talaga intensyon na bumalik nang paulit-ulit… pero iba talaga kapag hinahanap-hanap ng katawan. Kahit gaano ako ka-busy, lagi pa rin akong dumadaan sa ukayan. Kunyari’y may hinahanap na damit, pero ang totoo… may mas masarap pa akong gustong isukat.
Minsan, mabilis lang. A stolen moment beneath the counter habang nag-aayos siya ng mga paper bag. Kunwari’y kinakausapn ko lang siya, pero ang kamay ko’y gumagapang na. Tahimik kaming pareho, pero bawat sulyap, bawat hagod ng palad niya sa baywang ko—may kasamang apoy. The thrill of almost getting caught made it even hotter.
Sa dressing room, mas daring. Suot ko’y simpleng dress, pero sa ilalim, wala na akong suot. Pagpasok ko, kasunod agad siya. And there, against the curtain, we’d share a few heated seconds. Quick, messy, pero sobrang satisfying. ‘Yung tipong hindi kami nagkakatitigan pagkatapos, pero pareho kaming ngingitian kapag nagkasalubong sa aisle.
Pero may mga araw talagang di kaya. Masyado akong abala, pagod, or talagang dumaan lang. Pero hindi ibig sabihin wala akong gustong iwan.
Kaya minsan, flash lang.
Oo, ‘yung tipong bababa ako sa shelf para kunwari’y may kinukuha, pero naka-crop top ako at walang bra. Makikita niya yung curve, yung gilid ng suso na sumisilip sa laylayan. Or minsan, habang umiikot sa shop, tatapat ako sa CCTV blind spot, at dahan-dahang iuurong ang cycling shorts para ipasilip lang ang lacy thong sa likod. Konti lang. Saglit lang. Pero sapat na para mapatingin siya at mapakagat-labi.
Gusto ko ‘yung ganun—‘yung ako ang may control. Teasing him in public while pretending everything’s innocent. Malandi? Oo. Pero empowered.
Walang usapan. Walang commitment. Just those flashes of lust we keep tucked between hangers and old denim. Just enough to make us crave for the next time.
Kasi sa ukayan… hindi lang vintage finds ang treasure. Minsan, may sikreto ka ring tinatago sa bawat sulok ng tindahan.
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