Thursday, August 22, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
Twosome
I absentmindedly walked around the train station. He was still at my heels, trailing a few feet from my back, keeping enough distance to dodge suspicions from the crowd but not far enough for my peripheral vision to lose him from sight. I found myself entering the public restroom. I was surprised to get surprised to find myself in there. This has always been the drill. To our disadvantage, there were so many people taking their leak. We decided to wander around outside for some privacy.
Small talk. He shared about heading to BGC, while I explained about my dinner date at Shaw. The conversation drifted to Guy 3, whom we found too aggressive. He was making fun of me for letting the guy please me sexually. The talk continued. Neither of us seemed to be in so much a hurry. We just walked and walked and talked a bit more.
He asked for my age. He was laughing in apparent disbelief and embarrassment after hearing that I'm just 22. He's 28 and recently broke up with his girlfriend. I found that extremely hot. I have this morally challenging preference for older guys with some form of heterosexual commitment, whether ongoing or already expired.
We took the escalators down to the platform. With me taking one step down, my behind was positioned right exactly on his front. We did a little grinding, wrapping one hand around my chest from behind and pulling me closer. He pushed his bulge against my ass. Public display of (sexual) affection. My type of guy.
We exchanged names and digits. I expressed my intentions of taking the next train as I was already running late. He asked for a goodbye kiss. I was leaning closer towards him when we noticed a lady looking uncomfortable. We decided to find a blind spot by going back up. There was a security camera. But damn, fuck it. He pulled me closer and we kissed.
A tinge of nicotine. Tongues fighting for domination. Me devouring his lips, which felt full and erotically stimulating. A few more kissing and we parted ways.
Right after taking the northbound train, I took out my phone and texted, "Ingat. See you some time in Ayala." He earlier shared he holds office in the building just across mine.
A few minutes passed when my phone received a reply.
"See me sooner. Take care. Can't wait to fuck you good."
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Ménage à trois
There was, at that time, something I wanted to retry.
I positioned myself at the farthest corner of the coach. I doubted that the train will be jampacked enough on a Saturday afternoon, but I didn't mind; I was not aggressively aiming to achieve what I had in mind. And so I stayed there, with almost nobody else standing along with me, waiting to be somebody's eager prey.
The doors opened at the Quezon Avenue station. Somebody immediately caught my attention: He wore a black, collared shirt and a pair of white shorts cut just above the knee. Although a bit stocky and dark complexioned, he looked intensely palatable in his almost six-foot stance. Very manly with a twist, I thought. He settled on a spot near mine.
More people came in at Kamuning Station. In the few seconds that passengers rushed in came a quick thought: I should make space so this guy could squeeze himself beside me. And that he did. I spent the next minute or so looking down discreetly, checking if some bulge is sticking out his pants.
The train stopped at Cubao Station. Somebody zoomed past between us, making deliberate effort to take the little space left adjacent to mine. I easily understood that he was looking for the same opportunities as I was. His eyes darted from side to side, searching, scanning, calculating.
The train moved, and so his hands. The back of his palms "accidentally" bumped onto my front. What transpired immediately after was immensely aggressive: Having felt my semi-hard tool, his hand lunged deep inside my pants, groping my dick and bringing it to hard perfection. He then unzipped my pants, took my cock out, and started stroking it up and down.\
I looked up to check how the attractive, tall guy is reacting to the action right under his nose. He seemed not to care---until I started feeling his crotch. Next thing I knew, Guy 3 has already pulled out Guy 1's dick and stroked it together with mine.
Shaw Boulevard Station. That was my pit stop, but I wanted to know how far Guy 1 was willing to play. He already tore from our group and stationed himself just a few feet away from our initial spot. I followed soon after, albeit Guy 3's disapproval, positioning myself close enough so that our skins would collide with each bump the train gives from the ride.
A few more stations, and I decided to alight at Buendia Station. I was uncertain of where this was leading, and I had no strong intentions of bringing this further. I was also running late for a dinner commitment. I stepped out of the coach the moment the doors slid open, intending to take the incoming northbound train and catch friends who might already be waiting at Shaw.
But in my peripheral vision was the tall and attractive Guy 1, who also stepped out of the train and decided to follow.
To be continued
I positioned myself at the farthest corner of the coach. I doubted that the train will be jampacked enough on a Saturday afternoon, but I didn't mind; I was not aggressively aiming to achieve what I had in mind. And so I stayed there, with almost nobody else standing along with me, waiting to be somebody's eager prey.
The doors opened at the Quezon Avenue station. Somebody immediately caught my attention: He wore a black, collared shirt and a pair of white shorts cut just above the knee. Although a bit stocky and dark complexioned, he looked intensely palatable in his almost six-foot stance. Very manly with a twist, I thought. He settled on a spot near mine.
More people came in at Kamuning Station. In the few seconds that passengers rushed in came a quick thought: I should make space so this guy could squeeze himself beside me. And that he did. I spent the next minute or so looking down discreetly, checking if some bulge is sticking out his pants.
The train stopped at Cubao Station. Somebody zoomed past between us, making deliberate effort to take the little space left adjacent to mine. I easily understood that he was looking for the same opportunities as I was. His eyes darted from side to side, searching, scanning, calculating.
The train moved, and so his hands. The back of his palms "accidentally" bumped onto my front. What transpired immediately after was immensely aggressive: Having felt my semi-hard tool, his hand lunged deep inside my pants, groping my dick and bringing it to hard perfection. He then unzipped my pants, took my cock out, and started stroking it up and down.\
I looked up to check how the attractive, tall guy is reacting to the action right under his nose. He seemed not to care---until I started feeling his crotch. Next thing I knew, Guy 3 has already pulled out Guy 1's dick and stroked it together with mine.
Shaw Boulevard Station. That was my pit stop, but I wanted to know how far Guy 1 was willing to play. He already tore from our group and stationed himself just a few feet away from our initial spot. I followed soon after, albeit Guy 3's disapproval, positioning myself close enough so that our skins would collide with each bump the train gives from the ride.
A few more stations, and I decided to alight at Buendia Station. I was uncertain of where this was leading, and I had no strong intentions of bringing this further. I was also running late for a dinner commitment. I stepped out of the coach the moment the doors slid open, intending to take the incoming northbound train and catch friends who might already be waiting at Shaw.
But in my peripheral vision was the tall and attractive Guy 1, who also stepped out of the train and decided to follow.
To be continued
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Toys
It's so real when it dies down
It's so real when you're around...
I sure was immensely distracted that day. I would absentmindedly slide the screen of my Blackberry up and down, or if not, would periodically press the side keys to keep the screen illuminated. After a while, I finally got my hands off the spent phone and shifted my focus to my computer. I was, after all, to deliver so many things that day. But the mind never fails at being playful---my eyes would always dart to the spot where I put the gadget to rest, very certain that my peripheral vision just captured a swift, red blink. I would stare intently beside the light sensor to see if it was real. Of course, it wasn't.
I had been spending the past hour checking my phone for new messages. Oddly, those thirty minutes felt one of the longest in the recent past.
...You're shining there, you're lying there
I can't look down, I feel like I have left the ground...
It's self-depreciating, looking back. I stumbled upon you on Twitter and immediately hit the follow button, believing that you were someone I had deep admiration for. You expressed your thanks. We talked and exchanged a few innuendos when you decided to send a direct message. You felt uncomfortable publishing less-than-innocent items on your timeline. The talking continued. You were a good conversationalist, and so was I, my natural response to wit and good grammar.
By this time I was sure you were not who you were supposed to be. You were not someone I knew. Days passed. You continued to sound smart and interested. I felt flattered. You wanted to meet. We decided to have dinner the coming week.
It’s so real. Will it ever be this good?
It could never be like you
Cause you made it all come true
It could never be like you
You wanted a photo. It was only fair, having seen quite a few of yours, all posted somewhere down your timeline. I didn't want to give you a link to my Facebook profile, so I suggested a hi-hello-good night video chat on Skype. You agreed.
I went online that night. I didn't want any pretensions. I didn't fix myself like I always did when I was younger. I wanted you to see the regular me. But the lighting was bad. You said it was okay; you have seen my face. We exchanged our good nights and went offline.
The smart conversations ensued. We confined ourselves via direct messages on Twitter, perhaps having that unspoken, mutual understanding that some things were to remain private. You brought smiles to my face. A new week came, and I was looking forward to dinner as agreed upon.
Like you,
Cause you made it all come true
It could never be like you...
Then, things changed. You were not as responsive to my messages as you used to be. You were no longer initiating conversations. I was getting one liners. It must be your exams, I thought. One last stretch before graduation. You needed focus. That was fair and due, I thought.
Something didn't feel right, though. I visited your profile and checked your tweets. There, I saw you exchanging some similar innuendos we previously shared with some others. There was no way you could have missed my messages, seeing how active you were online. A smile twisted my rather expressionless face.
These kinds of social relations cling to the superficial for its very foundations. It had nothing to hold on to apart from this depthless idea. It's only what we see, what we only know, so we build our beliefs and desires around it. It serves as our truth. All along, I knew. I was willing to play the game, and as always, I lost.
A smile twisted my rather expressionless face, out of self-disappointment. I was making the same mistakes again.
Like you, like you...
Cause you made it all come true
It could never be like you.
It's so real when you're around...
I sure was immensely distracted that day. I would absentmindedly slide the screen of my Blackberry up and down, or if not, would periodically press the side keys to keep the screen illuminated. After a while, I finally got my hands off the spent phone and shifted my focus to my computer. I was, after all, to deliver so many things that day. But the mind never fails at being playful---my eyes would always dart to the spot where I put the gadget to rest, very certain that my peripheral vision just captured a swift, red blink. I would stare intently beside the light sensor to see if it was real. Of course, it wasn't.
I had been spending the past hour checking my phone for new messages. Oddly, those thirty minutes felt one of the longest in the recent past.
...You're shining there, you're lying there
I can't look down, I feel like I have left the ground...
It's self-depreciating, looking back. I stumbled upon you on Twitter and immediately hit the follow button, believing that you were someone I had deep admiration for. You expressed your thanks. We talked and exchanged a few innuendos when you decided to send a direct message. You felt uncomfortable publishing less-than-innocent items on your timeline. The talking continued. You were a good conversationalist, and so was I, my natural response to wit and good grammar.
By this time I was sure you were not who you were supposed to be. You were not someone I knew. Days passed. You continued to sound smart and interested. I felt flattered. You wanted to meet. We decided to have dinner the coming week.
It’s so real. Will it ever be this good?
It could never be like you
Cause you made it all come true
It could never be like you
You wanted a photo. It was only fair, having seen quite a few of yours, all posted somewhere down your timeline. I didn't want to give you a link to my Facebook profile, so I suggested a hi-hello-good night video chat on Skype. You agreed.
I went online that night. I didn't want any pretensions. I didn't fix myself like I always did when I was younger. I wanted you to see the regular me. But the lighting was bad. You said it was okay; you have seen my face. We exchanged our good nights and went offline.
The smart conversations ensued. We confined ourselves via direct messages on Twitter, perhaps having that unspoken, mutual understanding that some things were to remain private. You brought smiles to my face. A new week came, and I was looking forward to dinner as agreed upon.
Like you,
Cause you made it all come true
It could never be like you...
Then, things changed. You were not as responsive to my messages as you used to be. You were no longer initiating conversations. I was getting one liners. It must be your exams, I thought. One last stretch before graduation. You needed focus. That was fair and due, I thought.
Something didn't feel right, though. I visited your profile and checked your tweets. There, I saw you exchanging some similar innuendos we previously shared with some others. There was no way you could have missed my messages, seeing how active you were online. A smile twisted my rather expressionless face.
These kinds of social relations cling to the superficial for its very foundations. It had nothing to hold on to apart from this depthless idea. It's only what we see, what we only know, so we build our beliefs and desires around it. It serves as our truth. All along, I knew. I was willing to play the game, and as always, I lost.
A smile twisted my rather expressionless face, out of self-disappointment. I was making the same mistakes again.
Like you, like you...
Cause you made it all come true
It could never be like you.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Social suicide (that shines bright like a diamond)
You know your gay social life is screwed when you miss a milestone like this:
So, here's the thing. You would often see me downing unlimited glasses of mojitos in Friday's or in one of those affordable bar and restos on the side streets of Makati CBD. They are enjoyable in their own right, but there would always come a moment wherein some force pulls me off the place that's saying, "You're better off somewhere else."
And I know exactly where that place is.
It's been forever since I last stepped foot into O Bar. It's been almost four years since I first discovered the place: Gay friends brought me there one Saturday night for my "baptism of fire". That's when I realized there are so many more People Like Us, beyond my circle of friends; where I first fell in love with the dance floor; where I learned to embrace my (homo)sexuality even more.
But time passed and my priorities changed. I was thrust into the complexities of corporate life right after graduation, and the big bosses would really utilize you when you're exceptionally good (excuse the airheadedness here). Family responsibilities came side by side as you earned more. And as if those weren't enough, I engaged into the stress to juggling work and graduate school, having been influenced by an environment that places deep value into education.
All of these meant sacrificing a few things. I kept my college buddies and old officemates close through dinners that didn't consume my entire night. I struggled to maintain social relationships with gay friends over cups of coffee that I didn't drink. No more night outs after. Once the only place that felt home, O Bar have become nothing but a distant dream to this soon-to-be 23-year-old.
After the payroll cutoff on the 15th, perhaps. ;)
So, here's the thing. You would often see me downing unlimited glasses of mojitos in Friday's or in one of those affordable bar and restos on the side streets of Makati CBD. They are enjoyable in their own right, but there would always come a moment wherein some force pulls me off the place that's saying, "You're better off somewhere else."
And I know exactly where that place is.
It's been forever since I last stepped foot into O Bar. It's been almost four years since I first discovered the place: Gay friends brought me there one Saturday night for my "baptism of fire". That's when I realized there are so many more People Like Us, beyond my circle of friends; where I first fell in love with the dance floor; where I learned to embrace my (homo)sexuality even more.
But time passed and my priorities changed. I was thrust into the complexities of corporate life right after graduation, and the big bosses would really utilize you when you're exceptionally good (excuse the airheadedness here). Family responsibilities came side by side as you earned more. And as if those weren't enough, I engaged into the stress to juggling work and graduate school, having been influenced by an environment that places deep value into education.
All of these meant sacrificing a few things. I kept my college buddies and old officemates close through dinners that didn't consume my entire night. I struggled to maintain social relationships with gay friends over cups of coffee that I didn't drink. No more night outs after. Once the only place that felt home, O Bar have become nothing but a distant dream to this soon-to-be 23-year-old.
After the payroll cutoff on the 15th, perhaps. ;)
Prayer
In what seemed like years, I went to the church and lit up four, yellow candles.
The first candle I lit for my career. I wished for more resilience and even more courage, as I always find myself succumbing to self-doubt whenever faced with what I do not know. I wished for an enabling mindset to see the unknown not as detriments but instead as chances to learn and expand by horizons. This candle also burned in appreciation of humility , having learned that being in a position of power at a young age can be a double-edged sword.
The second candle I lit for my graduate studies. I wished for time to be more sufficient so I can continue---and more. I wished for enough willpower to sustain my desire for further studies, which I intend to pursue after finishing my current degree.
The third candle I lit for wealth. I wished to be always reminded to feel rich, so that I will be rich. I wished for contentment of what I receive, as it is more than enough but I would still find it lacking.
The last candle I lit for the past. The past few weeks have been filled with flashbacks, reawakened emotions and desires. I wondered what happened to Jay, with whom I shared a confused and estranged sexual relationship. I wondered how a simpler life can suddenly become so appealing, having always wanted to get out of college and live my dreams. I wondered how it would feel like to relive the past, if it would somehow give answers to some bugging questions I have in mind.
And so I write again.
The first candle I lit for my career. I wished for more resilience and even more courage, as I always find myself succumbing to self-doubt whenever faced with what I do not know. I wished for an enabling mindset to see the unknown not as detriments but instead as chances to learn and expand by horizons. This candle also burned in appreciation of humility , having learned that being in a position of power at a young age can be a double-edged sword.
The second candle I lit for my graduate studies. I wished for time to be more sufficient so I can continue---and more. I wished for enough willpower to sustain my desire for further studies, which I intend to pursue after finishing my current degree.
The third candle I lit for wealth. I wished to be always reminded to feel rich, so that I will be rich. I wished for contentment of what I receive, as it is more than enough but I would still find it lacking.
The last candle I lit for the past. The past few weeks have been filled with flashbacks, reawakened emotions and desires. I wondered what happened to Jay, with whom I shared a confused and estranged sexual relationship. I wondered how a simpler life can suddenly become so appealing, having always wanted to get out of college and live my dreams. I wondered how it would feel like to relive the past, if it would somehow give answers to some bugging questions I have in mind.
And so I write again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)