Date: Mon, 24 Jan 2005 13:59:20 -0800 (PST) From: Thomas-Alexander Kind Subject: Filipino Days-1 No disclaimer, as the ones that hold the power do what they want anyhow. Everybody else does not need one. Storycode: M/b The truth. For you, Wolf. Filipino Days -- 1 Calamansi. The snow is piling up outside on the small table that stands in the corner of the deck. I am watching it float down and settle on the already accumulated 4 inches. I had hoped for a winter without snow. But it seems to find me, or I it. An unusual occurrence in this city, which often remains green through the winter I am told. Well, here it is, dropping from the grey sky onto the deck, the table and my heart it seems. Swirls and dances with the slightest movement of air. As I sit and watch, my mind dances away and swirls to what has come to me in memories from far away and long ago. A wish for warmth, no doubt. Wanting to feel heat from the outside pushing against my skin. Rather than heat from steaming mugs of coffee on the inside. Curled up on the sofa, looking for serenity by letting my mind wander along old memories paths. As the grey outside is slowly darkening, I am slowly finding my way back to... ...the blaring horns of the dozens of Jeepneys is a jarring sound in my ears as we trot along the road in Mabini to the Bus-Station that will take us away from Manila and into the countryside. I am nervously shifting my pack, looking for the bus to the south. The night in the hostel was another experience I was not quite ready to think about. In the middle of Ermita, the red-light district, we had arrived from Hong Kong, following the recommendations of `The Yellow Bible'. Tony Wheeler's book for the independent adventurer... bringing us to a place filled with Peace-Corps people. That night wandering through the streets, wishing I wouldn't recognize the desperation behind the painted faces of the girls. Wanting to forget the two little kids I almost stumbled over, sharing the scraps in the bottom of a rusty tin can. Waking to the sounds of sex in the dorm-room, where two of the young men were satisfying their lust with a girl from the bar we had been to earlier. I remember shivering in the hot night, feeling weak. All too much of an assault on my senses. An unwilling participant in the pornographic sideshow of life. Rolling away from the city I settle into a fitful half-sleep, leaning against my friend's shoulder in the next seat. Hot and sweaty, I am tired from trying to make sense of what seems to swirl around me. Am trying to understand why I was aroused by the sounds, despite my disgust for the demeaning way this girl was used. When awake I am watching rice fields and palms slip by in an ever changing, flowing slideshow of green. Water buffalo with little brown-skinned boys on top, guiding them through the drenched fields pulling farming implements. Women stooped low, planting rice. Men raking. Houses built on stilts with thatched roofs and chickens in the yards. Dogs chasing the bus. I want to feel calm, but am more like tired. My eyes can't stop recording all this. All the small wonders of seeing something for the first time. The smells, the touch of things. The woman in the seat across the aisle is offering me a small green fruit. Smiling she extends it to me telling me its name, which sounds like: Calamansi or such. She demonstrates how it is to be enjoyed, by biting into it. There is something sensual about this overweight woman wrapping her lips around the small fruit and pressing her teeth into it. The pressure I feel in my groin is making me blush. I quickly follow her example and my mouth and tongue is bathed in a lime-like tartness, that makes my mouth tingle and smack my lips. The woman laughs out loud. I guess my face is a grimace of some delight for her. I manage a lopsided smile, but as the juice from the fruit is flowing into me, it seems to cleans my mind from all the sweltering sensuality and I burst into a giggling laugh as well. We have no common language, but have traded something more than words. Smile into each others eyes and I thank her for the fruit, but more so for the bits of salvation that seems to have come with it. As she is getting up to leave at the next stop, she drops a handful of the small green fruit into my lap and winks at me. It always seems to take a full day of traveling to get somewhere, no matter if the place is far or near. We are on the `Gringo trail' to a town called Pagsanhan. The guidebook talks of waterfalls and a river that one navigates by canoe guided by natives of the town. But it also talks of other things. And maybe that is part of my apprehension. The `Where to stay' section listed a number of hotels and also a youth-hostel. I could not make myself forget that the description of the `Falls-Hotel' included the remark that `sometimes one could be encountering men who were picking up boys for sex'. The first time I read this, my mouth was suddenly dry. It was on the long flight from Seattle via Anchorage to Hong Kong. In that cramped seat unable to sleep. Unable to stop myself from reading it again, although it had burned itself into my mind already. `picking up boys for sex'... was something that struck at the core of my being. It was actually quite simple. I wanted to pick up a boy for sex. I stopped breathing for some seconds. How could a thing like that be.? I had left a boy behind that I loved. Had left him in the pain of parting. Still smelled him on that stupid hat of his which I had in my carry-on bag. `boys for sex'... I admitted to myself that I wanted that with him. Yes, it was safe to say it now, as we were halfway across the pacific. I wanted to have sex with him... whatever that meant. After all, I never had SEX with a boy. All desire and no fulfillment, other than in the steamy confines of my mind, which would show me pictures of the withering flesh of faceless bodies. Would drive me to masturbate after he left for home, because the excitement of the day, holding him, wrestling and a few chaste kisses was too much. I had sex with myself... to the crashing wave of pictures in my mind, that would swallow me up and then spit me out, flopping breathless on the beach of my bed, feeling very empty and ashamed. Not for pleasuring myself, but for the fact that I had once again not told the boy that I loved him. Even though I had noticed the little quickening of his breathing when in my arms. When trading the few kisses. `boys for sex' ... I wanted HIM.! Wanted sex with him.! Wanted to suck his cock... there, I said it.! All I could do, was to lock myself in the smelly washroom of the airplane and masturbate to a panting climax that felt nothing like satisfaction. The bus had deposited us in the town in which one had to get into a Jeepney for the rest of the trip. So we crowded into the back with 10 other people and our bags, me stuffing the Calamansi into my pockets. Late afternoon as we arrive in Pagsanhan. The Jeepney drops several others and us in the Town-square. My friend leads the way to the youth-hostel. Crossing a large dirty river winding back into palm-trees and bush on both sides of the bridge. With some difficulty we do end up locating the hostel, just off into a little side street. However, they have no more space,... except, the hut in the yard by the gate. The chap is telling us that this is usually rented to couples, and adds that we would not be allowed to bring girls back to the place. Well, we do take the `Honeymoon' suite and are quite happy with the arrangement. Hey, our own house and a place to sit outside the door. The bed is not too wide, but we have spent quite a few sweaty nights together by now, so that is no problem. Better than the Iranian bordello we spent the nights in, in Hong Kong or the place in Manila as far as I am concerned. Smoking ciggies on the balcony while the noises of the evening are drifting around us. Nice, relaxing... no more crowded bus, or Jeepney. I am slowly unwinding... mind drifting. `sex with boys'... I am fidgeting in my chair. Here, in this town somewhere... a man is having sex with a boy.! This is making me pant. I light another cigarette. Some man, even as I am sitting here, is having sex with a boy. Maybe even in the hotel they were writing about, or in a house in the next lane. I can hear voices and children's shrieks drift over from down the lane. It makes me shiver inside and shift uneasily. I want to get up and run away. Want to get back on that bus. Want to... to have sex with a boy.! We go to have dinner. Back to the town-square, where we had spotted a restaurant/pub as we got off the Jeepney. Walking is good. Darkness is good. We can still make out the river. It is featured in `Apocalypse Now'. At the end of the river Kurtz is waiting to teach the young Lieutenant about the horror. The terror in the hearts of men. The horror it brings. Into all our hearts. The friendly yellow light of the restaurant spills through the wide open entry into the street. Not too many people. A couple of local chaps at the next table drinking, a white man and woman in the back, eating. Just a few tables, a counter in the back and a jukebox in the front across from us. The people here love music, western music. It is always too loud and I can do without 'Boney M' during eating. But, hey,... it is not my dime. It is a warm night, I like this. Second beer is making me a little less tense and sit back. Food. Bats whirling outside, hunting by the street lights. Those little pale geckos on the wall above us... and across, above the jukebox. Noise of motorbikes and the occasional shout is filtered by another song from the box. My friend has started to chat with the two already quite drunk men at the next table. I am sitting back in the contentment of having a full belly and a little beer. Not wanting to talk, just listen. Just look and smell. This feels good. I go and pick up another round of beers. The guys smile and slap my back. I am dropping back into my seat against the wall. The song has changed. Someone has put another dime into the jukebox. I look across... and into his eyes.! The room gets sucked away from my eyes until only the boy in front of the jukebox remains. Maybe 13 or 14, slim, small and brown. Tight jeans and a flower-shirt, half open. Dark hair, dark eyes. Ohhh, long eyelashes and bright white teeth behind luscious lips.! Luscious,... I am shaking my head. No, still there. Looking at us,... me. I start breathing again. But had forgotten the beer at my lips. Coughing I set the bottle down. The guys are laughing, I am not listening, but have turned back and see the smile on the kids face, as he is leaning back against the jukebox. I offer a nervous, embarrassed smirk. But he turns away to study the selection of disks under the glass dome. My eyes are flowing down his back to his back, down his back... to, yes...to IT. Well... I am swallowing hard, to his bum. Hmmm... he is moving slightly to the beat. My mind is constructing erotic pictures that swiftly turn into pornographic images. The minutes drag. He is looking at me again. I am waiting for him to select another song. But he just keeps looking at us, me..? Then it dawns on me that maybe he does not have any more money so I hold up a coin and he nods quickly. I toss him the coin and he slips it into the slot. More danceable song from the music-machine this time. The boy smiles and moves languidly to the music. My friend taps my arm and softly tells me that he will be a while and maybe I should hold on to the key if I want to go back to the hut.! I swallow. He smiles. The night just got a lot hotter... too hot actually. I am sweating enough to have to wipe my forehead. `picking up boys for sex'... I am steaming. I am hard in my pants. I suck on my beer. The boy is back to leaning against the jukebox. The blood is thumping in my ears. I toss another coin across the room. The boy smiles a wide smile, but then looks back at me with question marks in his eyes. I shudder. He drops the coin and more 'Boney M'. He dances now, in front of the box. For me. Why for me.? Does he know I am devouring him with my eyes.? I am drinking him in... slim hips, tight jeans across his bum, showing a definite bulge in the front. What now.? I am having visions of naked boy bodies. I am so scared my erection is gone. I want to run away. Oh the horror. The darkness I am contemplating. The deviance and the delight. The desire and the sin. I am trembeling. My friend leans close again and looks into my eyes. `If you do not pick him up now, he will leave.!' What, well... my friend who knows me too well... what, how.?! His hand is giving my back a little push... I feel like I am being tossed into the void. The void of the space between our table and the jukebox. A scant 10 feet. Endless. No not endless, perhaps, but my walk away from the prison of my innocence. I know I will be a different man when I get to the other side of this room. And I also know that I will never be able to go back. To the safety of that table, that other side.! 3 steps from safety to satisfying my nature. I am tumbling through the room. 3 steps. The boy turns towards me, smiles... I touch his shoulder. Look into his face and mumble something I do not remember today. He nods ever so slightly and pulls me out of the restaurant into the night. Darkness, thank you,... darkness. Hot sticky night in that town with the dirty brown river. Hot small hand that holds mine and pulls me along. I can smell him. Tell him where I am staying... momentary confusion, but then acknowledgement. He smiles again and for the first time I hear his husky voice. Telling me in scrappy English that it is a funny thing, to be going to that place. I have no idea what he is talking about, as I am sinking into the sound of his voice, his smell and can barely hold back from pawing him. We escape into the night to the far side of the river. I am holding on while he drags me surefooted forward in the darkness. Somebody is passing us... words exchanged. Sounds angry almost. I am scared again. But the boy, whose name I still do not know, confidently waves the other on. I am in a movie it seems. Being drawn through the night to somewhere very far from safety, from myself... or not.? Maybe I am on my way home.?! Are we going to the darkness or the light.? I stumble up the few steps to the hut, than fumble with the key. Door open, boy inside. Me inside... with boy. `picking up boys for sex'... oh gods I have just done that, right.! I have just walked out of a restaurant with a young boy to have sex with him.! Here,... now.! Panic... maybe I can send him away. Maybe it is ok if I just give him some money. I did ok... no.? I actually did pick somebody up.! Somebody.? Not just somebody, a BOY.! Illicit sex.! Sex with a boy.! Whose name I do not know. Nor does he mine. Who did not know I existed, nor did I know he did, an hour ago. Who has slipped out of his clothes.! No light in the room, but walking in the darkness, I can see by the little light that filters through the window. I can see. I see his body, his naked skin as he drops his clothes on the chair by the bed. His back, his legs... his bum.! He turns around. I involuntarily gasp a little. My insides are mush. I am too young for this...or too old.! Too frightened of myself. Afraid to look, but not able to avert my eyes. `You like.?' His husky voice is clear. My eyes follow the lines of his body, down... down. He is slowly stroking his penis. A slim, long boy-penis. A beautiful boy-penis. I nod silently. He slides on to the bed, lying on his back. He still smiles. Does he not know that all I want is to molest him.!? Well I am sure he does. Am sure I am not the first... does he know he is my first.? He has folded his hands behind his head. Waiting. Smiling I slowly get out of my clothes. If nothing else, I want to feel his skin on mine. As I look at him while I step close, I realize how hard my own erection is. How it mirrors the smaller one in the boys center. I flow over him, on top of him... our bodies meet without separation of clothes. My penis slides up alongside of his as I fold my hands behind his, under his head. I kiss his face. His penis jumps as I slowly move my body. I can not help it. It is an instinctive thing. I sink to the side of him... and allow myself the exquisite pleasure of running my fingertips all over his body. All over his penis that responds to my touch. I am not sure of what to do. We do not have all night. And still my life is changing. With every touch of his skin, every kiss, every twitch in my penis as it slides along his hip. I don't know what I am allowed to do and what not. This is not some porno flick. Not some fantasy that I play against the inside of my eyelids. This is real skin beneath my fingertips, real lips that are pressing themselves to mine. Hey, all those books you read, was there nothing you learned.? No, not really. This is really... it. And so I am making my first staggering steps towards the man I am to become. The one that waited for this for many years. As I kiss my way to his navel, I am growing up. Until I am old enough to hold my face to his penis and young enough to slip my mouth over it... down all the way to the few wispy hairs at its base. I cannot help but moan as I am descending into the hell of men like me. Burning with desire for the skin, the smell, the sex of boys. I am licking, sucking, and finally drinking from him. All this is what has been in my head and heart. All this is what I have played again and again within myself. But here, here it is real. He is moaning softly, and comes hard into my mouth, as I stroke the pouch beneath his penis, fondling his balls. As my heart pounds in my chest and my tongue is splashed with something I have never tasted before. He holds my head to his groin. His penis is pulsing inside my mouth. Four maybe five times. He unclenches his hands and sighs, leaning back. I do not want to lift my head, as I know that I will find his eyes looking at me. Don't want to have him looking at me. Feel proud and ashamed at the same time. Know that I will need this again and again. Have been given a drug from whose addiction I will not be released. But do not want it. Need it, yes... but wanting it.? I am scared. I crawl up and wrap myself around him. He clasps his arms around me... and his legs. Why do I need him to hold me.? But I do. I feel very small. I hear his heart beating inside of him. I feel my heart beating inside of me. I have not died. I have not been struck down by some god I do not want to believe in. I have however just left myself behind. I refuse myself. I am holding on to a very thin thread that tethers my soul to this body. But there is a weight around me as I lift myself. I am trapped by a monkey of a boy that does not let me run away. Giggles in the face of my fear. Smiles at my despair. Kisses my face as he drops back to the bed. Keeps his legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I sit back on my haunches looking at him. I have just had SEX with him... and he is smiling up at me. I touched him. Stroked his... parts.! Sucked his cock.! Oh my gods I hope you are not snickering at me. His cock is hard again. He has fished mine from beneath him. They are pressed together. They are like brothers of a kind. His hand is stroking mine. I am stroking his. We are looking into each others eyes and are breathing harder. This will lead to... Oh my gods, he is so beautiful. And that hand of his is beautiful and firm and fast and...! We are matching our speed... he is panting, but giggling at the same time, how can he do that.? I am just moaning as he keeps giving me pain that is so delightful. We are close, his legs are squeezing me... he is moaning and as I pull him over the edge, he mercifully has done the same for me. With a lot of un-intelligent sounds we cum all over us. As I am holding him in my arms, I am kissing the side of his neck. His ear and his chest. He is quiet. Breathing. Heart beating easy. Boy in my arms. Sex with boy in my arms. I have no words and he seems not to be worried about the silence. Can hear the noises of the tropical night around us. Hear the noise of my blood pulsing through my head. This is not that empty beach I end up after pleasuring myself. This is a positively crowded bed. A boy that breathes beside me. I can't stop my hands, my fingers, my lips. This is a horror I will give into again, I know this. He may be the first, but this is what has been growing inside of me. This is in fact: me. A man that has sex with boys. And I like it. Yes, I like this. It is me. I feel no repulsion from licking his sweat of his chest. Only get pleasure from sucking his nipple and running my fingers along his hip around his bum to his pouch. Kiss his flat belly in devotion as I go to worship the part of him that makes him all boy... as it has lifted up once more and is calling me to prayer. He is keening, moaning, but I have found my wings.! Nibble on his pouch, roll his balls with my tongue. Bite his shaft tenderly and suck... oh yes, suck that hard, hot magic stick of his. Tweak his nipples and stroke his flanks. Grope his bum and hold him by the neck as I kiss him hard. This is SEX, no, more than that... it is a celebration of my freedom. My freedom from not knowing the delights of having a boy bucking into ones mouth. Because he needs to. Because I need him to. Because I need to have him give me his lust. Just as I give him mine. In fear abandoned. In disillusionment forgotten. In desperation overcome. In freedom from the pain of loving without knowing the answer to my lust. I am sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. The boy is gone. Slipped out into the night, biting into one of the Calamansi. After giving me one more taste of him. The taste that still lingers in my mouth. He knew there would be dollar bills in the pocket of his jeans. When he said: `Tomorrow.?' I told him No. We will be gone by tomorrow night. Will go up the river by canoe. Bathe in the waterfalls. Get on the bus and leave. But tonight, here, I have come to the end of my river already. Tonight I have left my horror behind me. Tonight I have held my sun and moon and star. There is silence in my heart. I know who I am and got my teaching tonight. Now I know that I can live. Because I have not been killed tonight. The `little death' I have felt was only my old self slipping away. And the `little death' of pleasure I gave to the boy was a measure of my strength. I am a man that loves boys. And that means killing a part of them, giving them death of the most delightful kind. Because I have been reborn tonight from the ashes of myself. With the help of a boy that has no name. So I sit and howl at the moon. Complete. Ready. TAK Thank you, Leif for all your help.