When I used to visit one of those early lgbt-friendly bathhouses back in Metro Manila many years ago (I know it was owned and operated by a couple whose connections with the then powerful Marcos clan were really that strong and dependable), I met one guy with whom I exchanged furtively-narrated brief stories in between our cruising activities in the bathhouse. Of course, I can't recall the complete details now, but I still recall how one of his stories would turn me on and make me imagine more details than what were originally provided to me by this fellow who took a particular liking to me that evening.
He's one of those cute guys who work in one of the major airlines, and you know right away that he's well compensated unlike most workers I'd see those days. He was behaving like he was getting disappointed over his waning prospects of ending up with someone he really likes to be with that night. I saw him walking all over the place, as he would cover the ground floor and the second floor, which was typical with most every one else during that night.
I would soon learn practically everything about his sexual preferences that time. Among his stories, he shared me his encounter with a commercial airline pilot from the Middle East. The fellow who was sharing me these details probably could have been an airline purser, or one of those who checks out airline personnel before a plane flies out or if there's something that has to be delivered personally (probably a reader out there can explain to me if this makes sense). One time, he had to approach the cockpit and had to brief the pilots for one critical reason or another. The pilot, whom he described as goodlooking, middle-aged but with well-preserved physique, gave him a look and asked him to pay him a visit at his hotel later that night. He understood very well the invite.
And he did show up. He was soon knocking on his hotel door, and he was let in, and he saw the pilot had already started having his cocktails. Oh, my storyteller would soon share me how this pilot would soon be penetrating him several times that night. They would share the whole evening together and parted ways the next day when the pilot had to be flying out of Manila.
I was fancying about this recollection of a story I heard many years ago mainly because I had been seeing numerous retired professional pilots on TV lately because they're being interviewed to share their thoughts out because of the missing Malaysian Airlines airplane. It's my fervent wish and hope that the plane would soon be found out somewhere out there in the waters that cover over 70% of this planet where we do all sorts of things that we can ever imagine during our respective lifetimes.
Swimming in the Nude at Haulover Beach in Bal Harbour, Florida
Haulover Beach in Miami, Florida was the must-visit destination where my good friend brought me to on a Sunday afternoon in February when I took a week-long trip to that state, which coincided with a business trip. Prior to the drive from Ft. Lauderdale to Bal Harbour, we almost didn't go there as we were seeing earlier that the sun wasn't showing up at all. The other option was to eat home cooked Philippine food among other Filipinos who work in cruise ships that were currently docked in the many ports found in the area. We were asking ourselves 'what's the point of swimming in the nude if the sun's not up at all?' Thankfully, the sun showed up by the time we were there, and it was out for at least 4 hours.
During that afternoon, I saw many naked swimmers of various races, sizes, gender, and health statuses. I've been to other nude beaches here in New York and New Jersey but what makes this place special is that it's where you can do nude beach swimming even during winter months up in the North East. I didn't even want to believe that I was swimming as my mind was still set on winter mode because of the season New York was in during that trip. Together with other sunbathers, I also took the time to get myself a well deserved tan, although I now realize such a decision was risky as we're not encouraged to expose ourselves to the sun at noon time up to its setting in late afternoon. With myself enthralled by the wide vistas of the ocean before me, I saw and felt that the beach was clean, beautiful, and was set in deep aquamarine color. I recall seeing the same hues on the bodies of the birds that kept flying all over the beach while people were there. These birds have been learning that they could get fed by these sun worshippers. Delightfully, the wind wasn't blowing strong at all as I meditated on my very tiny existence in this universe while looking at each of the newly-built tall residential buildings a few feet away from the beach.
It's been one very interesting beach adventure; I wasn't really expecting something like it mainly because I didn't even really bother to read about the places that were available for me to explore when I get to this part of Florida. I just made the trip mainly for business reasons (I wasn't even aware that Ft. Lauderdale comes ahead before Miami as I was on the train to and fro my destination during this trip). Just like the others who stayed around for some time when the sun already set, we ended up cruising towards the night with other night-going denizens in this part of Florida state. I was delighted to have made it with someone who was friendly and hispanic. Soon, I found out that there was more into him that I could manage to handle and face as the light from the tall building basked on our connected bodies. There were many others who were around but, somehow, nothing was happening at the earlier hours of our trip there. Practically everybody's just minding their own business.
During that afternoon, I saw many naked swimmers of various races, sizes, gender, and health statuses. I've been to other nude beaches here in New York and New Jersey but what makes this place special is that it's where you can do nude beach swimming even during winter months up in the North East. I didn't even want to believe that I was swimming as my mind was still set on winter mode because of the season New York was in during that trip. Together with other sunbathers, I also took the time to get myself a well deserved tan, although I now realize such a decision was risky as we're not encouraged to expose ourselves to the sun at noon time up to its setting in late afternoon. With myself enthralled by the wide vistas of the ocean before me, I saw and felt that the beach was clean, beautiful, and was set in deep aquamarine color. I recall seeing the same hues on the bodies of the birds that kept flying all over the beach while people were there. These birds have been learning that they could get fed by these sun worshippers. Delightfully, the wind wasn't blowing strong at all as I meditated on my very tiny existence in this universe while looking at each of the newly-built tall residential buildings a few feet away from the beach.
It's been one very interesting beach adventure; I wasn't really expecting something like it mainly because I didn't even really bother to read about the places that were available for me to explore when I get to this part of Florida. I just made the trip mainly for business reasons (I wasn't even aware that Ft. Lauderdale comes ahead before Miami as I was on the train to and fro my destination during this trip). Just like the others who stayed around for some time when the sun already set, we ended up cruising towards the night with other night-going denizens in this part of Florida state. I was delighted to have made it with someone who was friendly and hispanic. Soon, I found out that there was more into him that I could manage to handle and face as the light from the tall building basked on our connected bodies. There were many others who were around but, somehow, nothing was happening at the earlier hours of our trip there. Practically everybody's just minding their own business.
Seeing a Deceased Friend/Lover's Sex Videos Just Now
MSJND1 - XTube Porn Video - MeniSwallow
Yesterday, I got one of the last big surprises of 2013 in a major area of my life. While checking the latest postings in a porn site, I saw videos of a friend engaged in explicit sex acts. Now deceased, he was shown making it with someone who I know lives in the same neighborhood where my friend lived when he was still around. He committed suicide a few days after he reached 50 years old. We were that close, such that one of his sisters would ask me if I was her brother's lover during the hastily organized funeral in Queens. She must have heard so much about me from her brother, such that she thought it was safe to ask about this matter. Actually, he and I were lovers. Given the fact that I have been involved with multiple partners at any point in time, this one with my friend was a wonderful relationship in many aspects, but this one had its own share of disappointments and highlights. We just recognized that we actually liked each other, and we took action to let each other know about these mutually satisfying feelings. Because of the kindness and generosity I've experienced from him when he was still around, I'd say I had a become a better person because of him.
How sure am I about these facts? Are they verifiable as far as those who may want to know more about these videos? I had been to that living room for so many times when my friend was still around. I could still recall the many long playing albums he had, the coffee table with glass top, the living room set where his dead body was found by the cops, and of course, his genitals plus the details of his body hair on his body down there. Was I angry over this discovery? I felt a tinge of jealousy but I was overtaken by a deep sense of longing to be with my good friend again. The guy with whom my friend was making it with in those videos also described how he misses this common friend we have. He even used his real first name in describing the video. I've been struck by feeling and realizing more deeply and assuredly now that my friend really had a great time while he was still around. He probably just didn't want to suffer longer in life anymore; I would recall how he detested the idea of growing old and helpless with himself (he had relatives who had to struggle with old-age health concerns).
Need I say more?
Yesterday, I got one of the last big surprises of 2013 in a major area of my life. While checking the latest postings in a porn site, I saw videos of a friend engaged in explicit sex acts. Now deceased, he was shown making it with someone who I know lives in the same neighborhood where my friend lived when he was still around. He committed suicide a few days after he reached 50 years old. We were that close, such that one of his sisters would ask me if I was her brother's lover during the hastily organized funeral in Queens. She must have heard so much about me from her brother, such that she thought it was safe to ask about this matter. Actually, he and I were lovers. Given the fact that I have been involved with multiple partners at any point in time, this one with my friend was a wonderful relationship in many aspects, but this one had its own share of disappointments and highlights. We just recognized that we actually liked each other, and we took action to let each other know about these mutually satisfying feelings. Because of the kindness and generosity I've experienced from him when he was still around, I'd say I had a become a better person because of him.
How sure am I about these facts? Are they verifiable as far as those who may want to know more about these videos? I had been to that living room for so many times when my friend was still around. I could still recall the many long playing albums he had, the coffee table with glass top, the living room set where his dead body was found by the cops, and of course, his genitals plus the details of his body hair on his body down there. Was I angry over this discovery? I felt a tinge of jealousy but I was overtaken by a deep sense of longing to be with my good friend again. The guy with whom my friend was making it with in those videos also described how he misses this common friend we have. He even used his real first name in describing the video. I've been struck by feeling and realizing more deeply and assuredly now that my friend really had a great time while he was still around. He probably just didn't want to suffer longer in life anymore; I would recall how he detested the idea of growing old and helpless with himself (he had relatives who had to struggle with old-age health concerns).
Need I say more?
My First Book on Scribd.com
I was surprised to discover this lately, which happened after doing a search on a certain friend who already passed on. I don't know if I'm going to earn money from this listing on Scribd.com but I thought I might as well use it to help promote my first book. Buy the book, read it and share me your thoughts on it. Thank you.
Making An Impression To Someone During and After A Sexual Encounter
I was on my way to work when I happened to chance upon one fellow in medium height and who was wearing a light orange cotton shirt, white shorts, dark rubber shoes with laces in one of those subway stops in the Upper East Side (UES) in Manhattan very early in the morning. He's bald by choice of haircut and wears a thin mustache and I felt the attraction his presence was creating on that platform. For a few moments we were alone on the wooden bench that could seat at least 5 people while some other passengers would come and go by us, and which situation got both of us in the cruising dance that we were doing by choice. We recognized our attraction to each other.
I was not sure if the other passengers were aware of what we were doing. I could remember the smell that emanates from that train station where the green lines pass by all the time. A white woman would come and seat in between us, such that he and I could not continue to make moves on our dance. He stood and walked towards the front end of the train, and presently I would follow him.
After briefly chatting the usual lines, I asked if I can hold the bulge in my hands. He willingly agreed and I was surprised about the size. I could not feel any hesitation on my part right there and then; I wanted to make it with him if we could continue with our dance that was abruptly put to a stop.
I was surprised he was giving me signals and telling me that I should be careful with what I was saying before him. Before that, we kissed briefly, and hugged as well. He's telling me that he knows that his own people, especially the women, would be listening even from a distance and could figure out what was happening between us. I actually knew that but I didn't want to be bothered by such concerns anymore, mainly because I'm beyond such concerns. Life's too brief to bother myself about what others think of me; it's their business, anyway. I've been out as long as I can remember, which has provided me the temerity to do what I want as long as I'm not unknowingly hurting or at worst, killing anyone. But to give respect to his request, I mostly kept my mouth shut as we boarded our crowded train. I knew people were looking at us, as I'm very much Asian-looking or Hispanic looking as others would tell me, and he's a well built black guy.
As we stood next to each other inside the train, he would soon ask me to join him in his place somewhere in Crown Heights in Brooklyn. I quickly decided that I like to be with him and spend time so we could get to know each other better. He was surprised that I had been somewhere near where he grew up in Louisiana, and that I got the impression that he does not desire to create an impression that he's out as a gay person to others. I asked if he's single and that if he lives alone. He replied 'yes' to the first and I don't think I heard him reply to the second one.
We had to take the cab from the train stop so that we could reach his place faster. He's aware that I had to be rushing back to work as soon as we're over. We were soon naked together on his queen size bed that had dark brown bedsheets on that time. He put a white towel on it, which I noticed as I proceeded to do my work on his very well built and well toned body. Needless to say, we were both satisfied and done with our work in a few moments. Those moments included myself taking a shower, and himself taking a shower as well soon after I was done. He's surprised to realize that his neighbors were probably hearing what we were talking about, and that they could have seen both of us naked in the bathroom. The bathroom's window was half opened and I could see the neighbor's windows half opened, too. They could overhear us, definitely, if they would care to really lend us their ears during those early moments on that Sunday morning.
I have realized I created strong impressions on him. It's Gay Pride Day and I greeted him for the occasion. I heard from him, too, about a good friend of his who was visiting him and who flew back to his place by the time both my newly found friend and I came to that spacious 1 bedroom apartment. It's nicely furnished, kept orderly and relatively clean. I told him I'm out, and I knew he's taken somewhat aback by my attitude. But his attraction by me persisted in him, such that we ended up being in bed for the first time on that day.
"You have to be extra careful with what you're saying especially when talking with black men, or those you may call 'colored men.' Women are particularly very sensitive when they overhear what we are talking about. And they're very harsh in judging colored men on the down low," he told me and I'm narrating here as far as I could make a recollection now.
I have to add that we both created great impressions on one another's presence. I'm grateful to have met and known him. I don't really know if he would still like to meet up with me again. That remains to be seen. I know my strong impression on him bothered him as he realized quickly soon that I'm really out to celebrate myself as a person. I have not much qualms about showing out who I am as a person to others. And I keep in mind all the the time that others have the same right, which they always have to claim and act out to make sense about celebrating who we are as unique individuals.
We can't continue putting each other down, just because we behave not according to some people's unexpressed and ever evolving norms and merely being set-up to keep away from offending other people's sensibilities. The world continues to move on. I pray my new friend realizes that he has more to gain by being able to accept who he is really as a person. And I do hope he ceases to continue being internally homophobic with himself, with all its accompanying implications. I realized I've made a sustained strong impression on him, such that he would immediately give me instructions on how to behave when we are in public (which maybe useful if ever we meet again). Out of respect for his feelings, I'll take them to heart the next time I deal with him, as well as those other men who behave similar to him. As for myself, I know I'm happier in my own state in life, given all these troubles when I meet strangers with whom I have sex with in due time. I can only wish the same for my newly met friend and others similar to him, who would rather put into hiding those truthful but really beautiful aspects about themselves, than just lay down their hair whenever they are in public.
I was not sure if the other passengers were aware of what we were doing. I could remember the smell that emanates from that train station where the green lines pass by all the time. A white woman would come and seat in between us, such that he and I could not continue to make moves on our dance. He stood and walked towards the front end of the train, and presently I would follow him.
After briefly chatting the usual lines, I asked if I can hold the bulge in my hands. He willingly agreed and I was surprised about the size. I could not feel any hesitation on my part right there and then; I wanted to make it with him if we could continue with our dance that was abruptly put to a stop.
I was surprised he was giving me signals and telling me that I should be careful with what I was saying before him. Before that, we kissed briefly, and hugged as well. He's telling me that he knows that his own people, especially the women, would be listening even from a distance and could figure out what was happening between us. I actually knew that but I didn't want to be bothered by such concerns anymore, mainly because I'm beyond such concerns. Life's too brief to bother myself about what others think of me; it's their business, anyway. I've been out as long as I can remember, which has provided me the temerity to do what I want as long as I'm not unknowingly hurting or at worst, killing anyone. But to give respect to his request, I mostly kept my mouth shut as we boarded our crowded train. I knew people were looking at us, as I'm very much Asian-looking or Hispanic looking as others would tell me, and he's a well built black guy.
As we stood next to each other inside the train, he would soon ask me to join him in his place somewhere in Crown Heights in Brooklyn. I quickly decided that I like to be with him and spend time so we could get to know each other better. He was surprised that I had been somewhere near where he grew up in Louisiana, and that I got the impression that he does not desire to create an impression that he's out as a gay person to others. I asked if he's single and that if he lives alone. He replied 'yes' to the first and I don't think I heard him reply to the second one.
We had to take the cab from the train stop so that we could reach his place faster. He's aware that I had to be rushing back to work as soon as we're over. We were soon naked together on his queen size bed that had dark brown bedsheets on that time. He put a white towel on it, which I noticed as I proceeded to do my work on his very well built and well toned body. Needless to say, we were both satisfied and done with our work in a few moments. Those moments included myself taking a shower, and himself taking a shower as well soon after I was done. He's surprised to realize that his neighbors were probably hearing what we were talking about, and that they could have seen both of us naked in the bathroom. The bathroom's window was half opened and I could see the neighbor's windows half opened, too. They could overhear us, definitely, if they would care to really lend us their ears during those early moments on that Sunday morning.
I have realized I created strong impressions on him. It's Gay Pride Day and I greeted him for the occasion. I heard from him, too, about a good friend of his who was visiting him and who flew back to his place by the time both my newly found friend and I came to that spacious 1 bedroom apartment. It's nicely furnished, kept orderly and relatively clean. I told him I'm out, and I knew he's taken somewhat aback by my attitude. But his attraction by me persisted in him, such that we ended up being in bed for the first time on that day.
"You have to be extra careful with what you're saying especially when talking with black men, or those you may call 'colored men.' Women are particularly very sensitive when they overhear what we are talking about. And they're very harsh in judging colored men on the down low," he told me and I'm narrating here as far as I could make a recollection now.
I have to add that we both created great impressions on one another's presence. I'm grateful to have met and known him. I don't really know if he would still like to meet up with me again. That remains to be seen. I know my strong impression on him bothered him as he realized quickly soon that I'm really out to celebrate myself as a person. I have not much qualms about showing out who I am as a person to others. And I keep in mind all the the time that others have the same right, which they always have to claim and act out to make sense about celebrating who we are as unique individuals.
We can't continue putting each other down, just because we behave not according to some people's unexpressed and ever evolving norms and merely being set-up to keep away from offending other people's sensibilities. The world continues to move on. I pray my new friend realizes that he has more to gain by being able to accept who he is really as a person. And I do hope he ceases to continue being internally homophobic with himself, with all its accompanying implications. I realized I've made a sustained strong impression on him, such that he would immediately give me instructions on how to behave when we are in public (which maybe useful if ever we meet again). Out of respect for his feelings, I'll take them to heart the next time I deal with him, as well as those other men who behave similar to him. As for myself, I know I'm happier in my own state in life, given all these troubles when I meet strangers with whom I have sex with in due time. I can only wish the same for my newly met friend and others similar to him, who would rather put into hiding those truthful but really beautiful aspects about themselves, than just lay down their hair whenever they are in public.
I Appreciate the Very Frank Discussion I Had With My Highschool Mates on the Gay Life
The setting had been Hooters somewhere in Manhattan, and the participants were the 3 of us friends who met each other back in highschool who gathered that hot summer afternoon. We were supposed to meet with 2 others more from the same school, but they had to attend to some emergencies at the last minute. And immediately right from the start, I was confronted in his usual masculine, almost bullying way (which didn't really put me off) on how I had been leading and enjoying my life in the New York City (NYC). He and our other schoolmate started bamboozling me with questions on how I manage with my life, specifically on questions related to my sexual activities.
Yes, they have been very curious to know more details. I know one of them bought my first book, which could have opened his eyes to what I had been doing back in the Philippines prior to moving here in NYC for good these past few years. I recall him telling me before that Intramuros, which is the setting of my first book, remains memorable to him because that's where he and his wife would date when they were still based in the Philippines. He, also, mentioned about his thought that I was having issues on lifestyle back in the Philippines. And I had to explain that I had a long term partner with whom I had lived in in the same house for 8 years (but who would not like to come here in the USA to work and stay, just similar to what I'm doing now). I had to add that the main reason why I moved to NYC was that I was experiencing the so-called glass ceiling phenomenon in the Philippines. I had to break free from the barriers that are being put in place by those in power and the influential in Philippine society so that I, together with others who are similar to myself and my kind, would stay in our place forever until we decide to quit and move on (which I did, and so I'm way happier today than when I was still in the Philippines, inexplicably, even if my loved ones, lots of relatives and friends are based in that country).
Among a number of questions, I was asked as to who does the passive and the active roles, respectively when I am engaged in sex. I told them I'm versatile, that I enjoy being the top as well as being the bottom, depending mainly who I partner myself with when in bed with someone or with others. I was somewhat surprised to learn as well to hear from one of the guys that he had been hearing about how one of his friends would make it in bed with black men, although he lives with his partner at home.
And they were curious as to my involvement with black guys. I had to explain that the preference (as of this writing) is basically similar to what one tastes when eating food that has been basted, fried, browned. Check that yourself, if you doubt it. Those possessing darker color of skin are more exciting, actually, but you have to be adventurous to know that first hand.
I was also asked about my decision to keep and maintain 2 spaces to live in in NYC's Queens and Staten Island boroughs. Of course, it's more money, no matter how you look at it. But I gain the benefits from choosing which place to stay in for the night after I've been up on my feet the whole day. Also, I gain pleasure from knowing that I can be with the person who I am dating currently (or involved with) as long as we both can find the time to be together. They would continue teasing me about the idea, though.
I'm happy that they look forward to seeing me with my regular date one of these days. I just wonder when that would happen; I basically work during weekends when most people who work during weekdays get together. But I'll keep waiting and being open to the idea of sharing with them the friendship I have with my regular date. For all I know, I'll get more of the benefits of getting to know my date better as he and I would be exposed to more regular people, especially those I've known way back in highschool.
I can imagine that there would be more questions to come my way. I have a feeling I have a lot more to explain and share to my friends. I didn't feel intimidated, hurt, nor bullied at all. If there's a better way of making others understand and appreciate this lifestyle, I wish I could use or do it. It will help in clarifying notions and making truths come nearer our lives, which we badly need in these days of confounding questions on differences and what-is-curiously-fascinating on lifestyles.
Yes, they have been very curious to know more details. I know one of them bought my first book, which could have opened his eyes to what I had been doing back in the Philippines prior to moving here in NYC for good these past few years. I recall him telling me before that Intramuros, which is the setting of my first book, remains memorable to him because that's where he and his wife would date when they were still based in the Philippines. He, also, mentioned about his thought that I was having issues on lifestyle back in the Philippines. And I had to explain that I had a long term partner with whom I had lived in in the same house for 8 years (but who would not like to come here in the USA to work and stay, just similar to what I'm doing now). I had to add that the main reason why I moved to NYC was that I was experiencing the so-called glass ceiling phenomenon in the Philippines. I had to break free from the barriers that are being put in place by those in power and the influential in Philippine society so that I, together with others who are similar to myself and my kind, would stay in our place forever until we decide to quit and move on (which I did, and so I'm way happier today than when I was still in the Philippines, inexplicably, even if my loved ones, lots of relatives and friends are based in that country).
Among a number of questions, I was asked as to who does the passive and the active roles, respectively when I am engaged in sex. I told them I'm versatile, that I enjoy being the top as well as being the bottom, depending mainly who I partner myself with when in bed with someone or with others. I was somewhat surprised to learn as well to hear from one of the guys that he had been hearing about how one of his friends would make it in bed with black men, although he lives with his partner at home.
And they were curious as to my involvement with black guys. I had to explain that the preference (as of this writing) is basically similar to what one tastes when eating food that has been basted, fried, browned. Check that yourself, if you doubt it. Those possessing darker color of skin are more exciting, actually, but you have to be adventurous to know that first hand.
I was also asked about my decision to keep and maintain 2 spaces to live in in NYC's Queens and Staten Island boroughs. Of course, it's more money, no matter how you look at it. But I gain the benefits from choosing which place to stay in for the night after I've been up on my feet the whole day. Also, I gain pleasure from knowing that I can be with the person who I am dating currently (or involved with) as long as we both can find the time to be together. They would continue teasing me about the idea, though.
I'm happy that they look forward to seeing me with my regular date one of these days. I just wonder when that would happen; I basically work during weekends when most people who work during weekdays get together. But I'll keep waiting and being open to the idea of sharing with them the friendship I have with my regular date. For all I know, I'll get more of the benefits of getting to know my date better as he and I would be exposed to more regular people, especially those I've known way back in highschool.
I can imagine that there would be more questions to come my way. I have a feeling I have a lot more to explain and share to my friends. I didn't feel intimidated, hurt, nor bullied at all. If there's a better way of making others understand and appreciate this lifestyle, I wish I could use or do it. It will help in clarifying notions and making truths come nearer our lives, which we badly need in these days of confounding questions on differences and what-is-curiously-fascinating on lifestyles.
The Less Boring and Untold Portion (Up to Now) of What Happened During That Particular Philly Trip
My first book is now available in hardcover, paperback, e-book formats from my online store, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores.
I happened to recall one lazy Saturday afternoon about the unusual details of this trip I made to Philadelphia (Philly) with a friend who would call me, I have figured out, whenever he needs male company, for one reason or another. He has not been in touch with me for some time now (I don't intend to call him as he has been like that with me even before we went on this trip----he would just suddenly contact me out of the blue). This may sound petty, but I can only surmise that he got pissed by me for having not followed his instructions to wait for him at a certain time at a very specific place while we were visiting Philly one summer as he wanted to do some exploring by himself and thought of giving me the chance to be by myself for a few hours. I could very well be wrong, who would know the real reasons behind such behavior. He just decided to stop calling me since that trip to Philly we made years ago. And now that it's spring again, I am beginning to remember that particular trip where we had a three-some scene with another guy whom we met via online means, which was just like the way my friend and I met each other.
My friend and I were then staying in one of the big hotels in the middle of Philly, where we were using up his reward points so we could stay in those rooms practically free. As soon as I arrived by bus from New York City (NYC), he and I were having sex, eating fancy meals, walking, and touring around the city. We stayed in one major hotel the first evening we were together, and moved to another hotel the next evening, which was better than the first one. From the glass windows, I recall seeing a grand view of the Chrysler Building-inspired One Liberty Place that dominates the skyline of Philly. From our hotel room the second night, we could see one of the grand fountains in Philly and the main building of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. From what I've seen, the city is pretty, lovely and enthralling during that part of the year. I like its old houses with their unusual spaces found at the back, which were used formerly as garages by families for their coach-driven vehicles in eras gone by. Philly looked cleaner to me, and I even realized that I could move there if ever I decide to leave NYC.
But my friend and I felt the certain and creeping sense of boredom after some time of being together. My friend, a widower whose beloved wife died from a terrible accident, of Cuban extract, an artist who created several paintings that hang in his apartment, and who went to finish his art degree in one of those old private liberal art colleges in that part of Pennsylvania, thought that we could use Craigslist to make a more fun, adventurous trip while being in Philly.
Remarkably, my friend also took the chance to introduce me to the nuances of society in his neck of the woods here in the East Coast. I would listen to him with some fascination and would be grateful for the unsought-after briefer on class, society, differences and struggles that people and their communities encounter here in the East Coast, which experience got me into thinking that I'll always remain a foreigner here in the USA because I remain to be largely strongly unaware of the issues that affect most people's lives here. People here lead complicated social lives, apparently, in ways not usually shown in most regular Hollywood-style movies. I would fail to catch his drift from time to time (which could have been similar to how he was taking me as a friend from the Philippines, a country that shares a similar heritage to his maternal country, Cuba). I should say my friend meant well over all, and wanted to introduce me to his reality---he grew up in poverty in NYC, and wanted to share as much to me who has transplanted myself years ago in this city when I turned 40 years old. I probably was causing him to remember bad parts of his past by the way I would question him, which I did mainly because I wanted to know him better.
And we went on checking postings on Craigslist that have appeared during that period. Before the night was over, we were soon connecting with someone whose name is 'Maxx', which I know could be his real name. After a brief exchange of emails which my friend took charge of, we agreed and made arrangements to pick him up somewhere on a street that's a block or two from the hotel where we were staying. I don't know if we were told that he's black, but discovering soon that he's one didn't really bother me. As with most black guys I met, he's barrel chested and with a shaved head, had heavy built, had some eyesight problem related to weak (most probably, it seems to me) muscles, and he stood at least 3 inches taller than me. Needless to say, he's attractive, friendly, brave, sexy, and in heat. He told us that he works in an office in New Jersey, based on what I could still recall now.
We were soon in our hotel suite in one of the higher floors of the building, and which luxurious-looking suite includes a small living room next to a bathroom, a room with a queen size bed in addition to the main bedroom that has the big bathroom with built-in spa features. I don't remember if the three of us set ground rules first, but I recall we started right away in playing with each other sexually. I recall having been nervous a bit; I didn't know what to do first given all these possibilities that would come to my mind. Of course, you don't regularly engage in these events----porn movies I've seen that show three-some (or more) scenes usually don't have strong and believe-able storylines that could serve as easy guides.
Outside of my bathhouse experiences, I've not done threesome for some time and I don't remember having done it with the third guy who is black (although I strongly remember being with a black guy and a third guy who merely watched us fucked each other). In our threesome that night, my friend's a Latino, and I'm Asian. As soon as we have taken off our clothes and my friend had sufficient lubrication, I started to penetrate my friend as he and I continued to kiss each other. We have done something similar in our previous meet-ups in his apartment in the Lower East Side. He was already familiar with my style, and I knew we were both enjoying each other.
Maxx was merely sensing and watching how to go about with his act, and he would be joining us soon and I would kiss him on the lips as well. I kept on thrusting myself into my friend as Maxx and I continued kissing. My friend would be sucking Maxx as he and I would continue kissing. The evening went on about with its business of completing its presence during that memorable time happening among the three of us. My friend would then be fucked next by Maxx who would continue kissing me. I recall the three of us cuddled and hugged each other a lot. The three of us came and had our respective orgasm finally after some extended moments spent being sexual and responsive with each other.
It can't be denied that I had total satisfaction with what we did. But at the back of my mind, I was wondering what would have happened if I led Maxx to fuck me. With his size, I wonder if I could even handle his load, although I probably would do better as I'm bigger in size than my friend who was able to keep his size without too much trouble. Thankfully, Maxx didn't push with the idea of him fucking me. I heard him give me credit for taking care of my friend as I went on and continued to stimulate my friend so he could come finally. The experience was mind boggling; I knew coming wasn't necessarily the end goal of that encounter. My friend and I would spent time kissing each other on the lips. Max would just watch as my friend and I kissed in the most loving manner. Max probably figured out that my friend and myself are more than friends, at least for those moments. Everything went about becoming spontaneous from then on among the three of us.
Although my friend has since then never contacted me after that Philly trip (I do hope, he's still around), Max texted me at least 3 times since that encounter. He was inquiring when we're going to meet again. It may take awhile, most probably, as I don't come often to Philly. And I've since then lost his number after losing my celfone including those names and numbers in my directory (I still didn't realize that Google or Yahoo can be used as online directory, which I should start doing soon). I do hope he'll get to read this (or someone who knows him will tell him about this), and will attempt to contact me, any which way available to and working for him.
I happened to recall one lazy Saturday afternoon about the unusual details of this trip I made to Philadelphia (Philly) with a friend who would call me, I have figured out, whenever he needs male company, for one reason or another. He has not been in touch with me for some time now (I don't intend to call him as he has been like that with me even before we went on this trip----he would just suddenly contact me out of the blue). This may sound petty, but I can only surmise that he got pissed by me for having not followed his instructions to wait for him at a certain time at a very specific place while we were visiting Philly one summer as he wanted to do some exploring by himself and thought of giving me the chance to be by myself for a few hours. I could very well be wrong, who would know the real reasons behind such behavior. He just decided to stop calling me since that trip to Philly we made years ago. And now that it's spring again, I am beginning to remember that particular trip where we had a three-some scene with another guy whom we met via online means, which was just like the way my friend and I met each other.
My friend and I were then staying in one of the big hotels in the middle of Philly, where we were using up his reward points so we could stay in those rooms practically free. As soon as I arrived by bus from New York City (NYC), he and I were having sex, eating fancy meals, walking, and touring around the city. We stayed in one major hotel the first evening we were together, and moved to another hotel the next evening, which was better than the first one. From the glass windows, I recall seeing a grand view of the Chrysler Building-inspired One Liberty Place that dominates the skyline of Philly. From our hotel room the second night, we could see one of the grand fountains in Philly and the main building of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. From what I've seen, the city is pretty, lovely and enthralling during that part of the year. I like its old houses with their unusual spaces found at the back, which were used formerly as garages by families for their coach-driven vehicles in eras gone by. Philly looked cleaner to me, and I even realized that I could move there if ever I decide to leave NYC.
But my friend and I felt the certain and creeping sense of boredom after some time of being together. My friend, a widower whose beloved wife died from a terrible accident, of Cuban extract, an artist who created several paintings that hang in his apartment, and who went to finish his art degree in one of those old private liberal art colleges in that part of Pennsylvania, thought that we could use Craigslist to make a more fun, adventurous trip while being in Philly.
Remarkably, my friend also took the chance to introduce me to the nuances of society in his neck of the woods here in the East Coast. I would listen to him with some fascination and would be grateful for the unsought-after briefer on class, society, differences and struggles that people and their communities encounter here in the East Coast, which experience got me into thinking that I'll always remain a foreigner here in the USA because I remain to be largely strongly unaware of the issues that affect most people's lives here. People here lead complicated social lives, apparently, in ways not usually shown in most regular Hollywood-style movies. I would fail to catch his drift from time to time (which could have been similar to how he was taking me as a friend from the Philippines, a country that shares a similar heritage to his maternal country, Cuba). I should say my friend meant well over all, and wanted to introduce me to his reality---he grew up in poverty in NYC, and wanted to share as much to me who has transplanted myself years ago in this city when I turned 40 years old. I probably was causing him to remember bad parts of his past by the way I would question him, which I did mainly because I wanted to know him better.
And we went on checking postings on Craigslist that have appeared during that period. Before the night was over, we were soon connecting with someone whose name is 'Maxx', which I know could be his real name. After a brief exchange of emails which my friend took charge of, we agreed and made arrangements to pick him up somewhere on a street that's a block or two from the hotel where we were staying. I don't know if we were told that he's black, but discovering soon that he's one didn't really bother me. As with most black guys I met, he's barrel chested and with a shaved head, had heavy built, had some eyesight problem related to weak (most probably, it seems to me) muscles, and he stood at least 3 inches taller than me. Needless to say, he's attractive, friendly, brave, sexy, and in heat. He told us that he works in an office in New Jersey, based on what I could still recall now.
We were soon in our hotel suite in one of the higher floors of the building, and which luxurious-looking suite includes a small living room next to a bathroom, a room with a queen size bed in addition to the main bedroom that has the big bathroom with built-in spa features. I don't remember if the three of us set ground rules first, but I recall we started right away in playing with each other sexually. I recall having been nervous a bit; I didn't know what to do first given all these possibilities that would come to my mind. Of course, you don't regularly engage in these events----porn movies I've seen that show three-some (or more) scenes usually don't have strong and believe-able storylines that could serve as easy guides.
Outside of my bathhouse experiences, I've not done threesome for some time and I don't remember having done it with the third guy who is black (although I strongly remember being with a black guy and a third guy who merely watched us fucked each other). In our threesome that night, my friend's a Latino, and I'm Asian. As soon as we have taken off our clothes and my friend had sufficient lubrication, I started to penetrate my friend as he and I continued to kiss each other. We have done something similar in our previous meet-ups in his apartment in the Lower East Side. He was already familiar with my style, and I knew we were both enjoying each other.
Maxx was merely sensing and watching how to go about with his act, and he would be joining us soon and I would kiss him on the lips as well. I kept on thrusting myself into my friend as Maxx and I continued kissing. My friend would be sucking Maxx as he and I would continue kissing. The evening went on about with its business of completing its presence during that memorable time happening among the three of us. My friend would then be fucked next by Maxx who would continue kissing me. I recall the three of us cuddled and hugged each other a lot. The three of us came and had our respective orgasm finally after some extended moments spent being sexual and responsive with each other.
It can't be denied that I had total satisfaction with what we did. But at the back of my mind, I was wondering what would have happened if I led Maxx to fuck me. With his size, I wonder if I could even handle his load, although I probably would do better as I'm bigger in size than my friend who was able to keep his size without too much trouble. Thankfully, Maxx didn't push with the idea of him fucking me. I heard him give me credit for taking care of my friend as I went on and continued to stimulate my friend so he could come finally. The experience was mind boggling; I knew coming wasn't necessarily the end goal of that encounter. My friend and I would spent time kissing each other on the lips. Max would just watch as my friend and I kissed in the most loving manner. Max probably figured out that my friend and myself are more than friends, at least for those moments. Everything went about becoming spontaneous from then on among the three of us.
Although my friend has since then never contacted me after that Philly trip (I do hope, he's still around), Max texted me at least 3 times since that encounter. He was inquiring when we're going to meet again. It may take awhile, most probably, as I don't come often to Philly. And I've since then lost his number after losing my celfone including those names and numbers in my directory (I still didn't realize that Google or Yahoo can be used as online directory, which I should start doing soon). I do hope he'll get to read this (or someone who knows him will tell him about this), and will attempt to contact me, any which way available to and working for him.
That Pedestrian Bridge Connecting the Chinese General Hospital and the College of Nursing
My first book is now available in hardcover, paperback, e-book formats from my online store, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores.
These encounters took place so many years ago that I am struggling to recall and share more vividly a lot of the details I still have in stock memory about them. I would continue to wonder why I recall the encounters once in a while, even if I'm already based in a faraway country from where they originally took place. And I still get snatches of the freshness of the encounters in my mind when I ponder on the best scenes from my intimate experiences, especially when I'm just by myself. The memory of making it with some fellows who happened to be around during those nights when I decided I'd like to cruise somewhere near the Manila North Cemetery still comes into shore as if they just happened yesterday. The memory would usually start with what I had observed from some distance. I had seen many times from my seat in a moving vehicle the street where we were passing by had men who would be running to and fro from the cemetery. They're moving as quickly as they could from something scary and what was similar to what happened to me many times when I used to cruise in the Intramuros Walls.
Just right in front of the main entrance of this well known cemetery in the Philippine capital, you'll see a nondescript single story building that you could easily guess to be a public restroom. I would assume that this public restroom (which in the USA is called a 'bathoom') was built only as an afterthought and without due regard to design, as it looked so incongruous as it stands between the wrought iron gates of the cemetery and the pedestrian bridge. I recall that a deep canal flows next to where this restroom stands. But nobody among the regular folks would venture to go there just to pee. And during those years when I used to pass by this area, this building stands almost under the pedestrian bridge and next to the Chinese General Hospital. I'm not sure if it's still there.
I noticed that pedestrian bridge was barely used, which was confounding to me. Or I must had been mistaken by my biases over seeing growing colonies of squatters who live full time within and among the tombs inside the cemetery. These residents could just be using these structures to relieve themselves when they happened to be nearby and had to go. But I would soon discover that it was used by generations of cruisers, including myself who was around for a few times in the late evenings many years ago. One time I walked up the concrete stairs of the pedestrian bridge, which was totally filthy and in a state of disrepair, I remember having made it out with a young man who was thin, goodlooking, with strong solid facial features and who showed up suddenly from nowhere that rainy night. I even brought with me an umbrella. Upon seeing me, he would right away bring down his pants to his knees and allow me to approach him and give him head until he came. And we didn't have the chance to talk, except for a few instructions from him on how I should work on him while we were together. We were both young, so restless and so full of sexual energy that we were then learning to manage (probably no one among our networks would be willing to instruct us on how to manage these energies oozing from our young bodies) to meet our needs and wants.
As I would soon discover, the public bathroom right under the pedestrian bridge was also known to have been a tryst used by a lot of men who just wanted to have some adventure, a little bit of privacy, and quickly come or just watch other men jerking themselves until they come. Inside, it was reeking with urine smell, dried and fresh feces and other unimaginable dirt. But you'd make up faces of men as your eyes have been exposed to the dark after a while when inside; you would soon figure out that these men had been doing something more. I recall having met another young man there, who was probably of the same age as mine then. We grappled at each other's bodies as soon as we found each other in the dark space. But the strong stench of the place probably got into him so that he decided to invite me to his place, which he said was nearby. We'd walked a few blocks, and I recall the place was close to the Dimasalang Bridge. It was past 3am then, and I noticed all the silent and dark houses whose residents were in deep slumber. The streets were all lighted, and I would quickly recall in mind some movie scenes showing such typical streets in Manila. We stopped before a single family house that has a passenger jeepney standing on its front.
Inside the jeepney, I saw a man sleeping and heard him softly snoring. My companion volunteered to tell me the guy's their driver; his family has a jeepney for business, apparently. We moved and walked along the side on an unlighted short alleyway that leads to the front door of the house. It was dark, and he stopped just in front of the door. In an instant, we started kissing and hugging each other as we continued with undressing each other. Our shirts were off, then followed by our pants, and our underpants. We just continued kissing, hugging, cuddling, and moaning.
I could see that the door might be opened by anyone from inside the house. But who would think somebody might do that at such an unholy hour? We silently proceeded to suck each other's cocks. We were soon coming on each other's laps. It was over in 15 minutes or so, the prelude of which was started in that very dirty public restroom. I was glad I did come. I recall that good looking guy wanted us to meet again some time; I might have been given his phone number so that I could get in touch with him. I paid more attention to his good looks; he's a skin tone lighter than myself, which quality in the Philippines is generally given more premium when it comes to physical looks. We were similar in height, built and weight, plus with similar middle class social background (we were both in college then). I felt like I was being attracted to another version of myself as I continued observing him. He was friendly, I recall. And just like typical properly reared adolescents, we said thanks to each other. But I don't think I went out of my way to contact him again. I recall he had then been studying at the nearby University of Santo Tomas (known as Asia's oldest university). I was still then not sure if I wanted to be in touch with someone I surreptitiously had quick sex with. But I knew I totally enjoyed the brief encounter.
I never went back again to that tiny cruising ground in front of the Manila North Cemetery. I would just go back there mainly because I knew one of my brothers, in his very young age as a baby of around 7 days old, was buried there. Unfortunately, we couldn't locate his tomb anymore during the last time we were there during the traditional annual day of visit to honor the memory of the dead. The authorities must have placed his body with those others whose families or relatives have failed to pay the annual dues to the city government, which happens as a way to control the dead population being buried in that cemetery that has among its permanent residents the rich and famous of the Philippine state, and that has a grand collection of very elaborate, unique and awesome tomb structures (a must-see destination of any curious, open minded tourist in Manila). To this day, I'm still sorry our family never got the chance to keep and maintain my brother's tomb.
These encounters took place so many years ago that I am struggling to recall and share more vividly a lot of the details I still have in stock memory about them. I would continue to wonder why I recall the encounters once in a while, even if I'm already based in a faraway country from where they originally took place. And I still get snatches of the freshness of the encounters in my mind when I ponder on the best scenes from my intimate experiences, especially when I'm just by myself. The memory of making it with some fellows who happened to be around during those nights when I decided I'd like to cruise somewhere near the Manila North Cemetery still comes into shore as if they just happened yesterday. The memory would usually start with what I had observed from some distance. I had seen many times from my seat in a moving vehicle the street where we were passing by had men who would be running to and fro from the cemetery. They're moving as quickly as they could from something scary and what was similar to what happened to me many times when I used to cruise in the Intramuros Walls.
Just right in front of the main entrance of this well known cemetery in the Philippine capital, you'll see a nondescript single story building that you could easily guess to be a public restroom. I would assume that this public restroom (which in the USA is called a 'bathoom') was built only as an afterthought and without due regard to design, as it looked so incongruous as it stands between the wrought iron gates of the cemetery and the pedestrian bridge. I recall that a deep canal flows next to where this restroom stands. But nobody among the regular folks would venture to go there just to pee. And during those years when I used to pass by this area, this building stands almost under the pedestrian bridge and next to the Chinese General Hospital. I'm not sure if it's still there.
I noticed that pedestrian bridge was barely used, which was confounding to me. Or I must had been mistaken by my biases over seeing growing colonies of squatters who live full time within and among the tombs inside the cemetery. These residents could just be using these structures to relieve themselves when they happened to be nearby and had to go. But I would soon discover that it was used by generations of cruisers, including myself who was around for a few times in the late evenings many years ago. One time I walked up the concrete stairs of the pedestrian bridge, which was totally filthy and in a state of disrepair, I remember having made it out with a young man who was thin, goodlooking, with strong solid facial features and who showed up suddenly from nowhere that rainy night. I even brought with me an umbrella. Upon seeing me, he would right away bring down his pants to his knees and allow me to approach him and give him head until he came. And we didn't have the chance to talk, except for a few instructions from him on how I should work on him while we were together. We were both young, so restless and so full of sexual energy that we were then learning to manage (probably no one among our networks would be willing to instruct us on how to manage these energies oozing from our young bodies) to meet our needs and wants.
As I would soon discover, the public bathroom right under the pedestrian bridge was also known to have been a tryst used by a lot of men who just wanted to have some adventure, a little bit of privacy, and quickly come or just watch other men jerking themselves until they come. Inside, it was reeking with urine smell, dried and fresh feces and other unimaginable dirt. But you'd make up faces of men as your eyes have been exposed to the dark after a while when inside; you would soon figure out that these men had been doing something more. I recall having met another young man there, who was probably of the same age as mine then. We grappled at each other's bodies as soon as we found each other in the dark space. But the strong stench of the place probably got into him so that he decided to invite me to his place, which he said was nearby. We'd walked a few blocks, and I recall the place was close to the Dimasalang Bridge. It was past 3am then, and I noticed all the silent and dark houses whose residents were in deep slumber. The streets were all lighted, and I would quickly recall in mind some movie scenes showing such typical streets in Manila. We stopped before a single family house that has a passenger jeepney standing on its front.
Inside the jeepney, I saw a man sleeping and heard him softly snoring. My companion volunteered to tell me the guy's their driver; his family has a jeepney for business, apparently. We moved and walked along the side on an unlighted short alleyway that leads to the front door of the house. It was dark, and he stopped just in front of the door. In an instant, we started kissing and hugging each other as we continued with undressing each other. Our shirts were off, then followed by our pants, and our underpants. We just continued kissing, hugging, cuddling, and moaning.
I could see that the door might be opened by anyone from inside the house. But who would think somebody might do that at such an unholy hour? We silently proceeded to suck each other's cocks. We were soon coming on each other's laps. It was over in 15 minutes or so, the prelude of which was started in that very dirty public restroom. I was glad I did come. I recall that good looking guy wanted us to meet again some time; I might have been given his phone number so that I could get in touch with him. I paid more attention to his good looks; he's a skin tone lighter than myself, which quality in the Philippines is generally given more premium when it comes to physical looks. We were similar in height, built and weight, plus with similar middle class social background (we were both in college then). I felt like I was being attracted to another version of myself as I continued observing him. He was friendly, I recall. And just like typical properly reared adolescents, we said thanks to each other. But I don't think I went out of my way to contact him again. I recall he had then been studying at the nearby University of Santo Tomas (known as Asia's oldest university). I was still then not sure if I wanted to be in touch with someone I surreptitiously had quick sex with. But I knew I totally enjoyed the brief encounter.
I never went back again to that tiny cruising ground in front of the Manila North Cemetery. I would just go back there mainly because I knew one of my brothers, in his very young age as a baby of around 7 days old, was buried there. Unfortunately, we couldn't locate his tomb anymore during the last time we were there during the traditional annual day of visit to honor the memory of the dead. The authorities must have placed his body with those others whose families or relatives have failed to pay the annual dues to the city government, which happens as a way to control the dead population being buried in that cemetery that has among its permanent residents the rich and famous of the Philippine state, and that has a grand collection of very elaborate, unique and awesome tomb structures (a must-see destination of any curious, open minded tourist in Manila). To this day, I'm still sorry our family never got the chance to keep and maintain my brother's tomb.
Meeting Someone I Got Seriously Attached With In A Second Run Movie Theater in Sta Cruz, Manila
My first book is now available in hardcover, paperback, e-book formats from my online store, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores.
Having been away from the Philippines for over 6 years now, I don't know if this particular movie theater still exists somewhere in Manila as of this writing. It's standing right in front of this well known old restaurant called 'Ambos Mundos' in Sta Cruz, Manila, which I believe is along an old street called Oroquieta that runs parallel to Rizal Avenue where the LRT passes by before it crosses over the Pasig Rvier. Based on the details I would notice inside, the movie theater must have been one of the best looking theatres on its heydays but it has been in its rundown state by the time I discovered it in one of my innumerable sojourns in Manila and had since then started watching so many Tagalog movies inside, which were billed as double so you get to watch 2 movies at a price of one. Not a bad deal for someone with so little spare money for entertainment, and the deal becomes better as you get the chance to cruise around and play with fellows who may get attracted to you or those you would find interesting and attractive. Couples would make it while seated, or even in the bathroom. In the darkness inside the theater that was just lighted by the shadows cast off by the huge and already dust-covered screen, I saw all imaginable positions being performed by those who willingly played before my eyes; I remember seeing straight couples as well every now and then. And I also knew some families, most probably those of the workers in the theatre, live in one or two of the small rooms built-in into the theater.
This is not the same theater many of us regular patrons would call 'Perlas' or the Tagalog translation of the word 'pearl,' which was grittier and easier to find as the building stands on the main road, Rizal Avenue. This is another of those run down theatres where I would see more flagrant and more shocking activities done among men who would get together to enjoy and have fun in each other's lovingly extended arms and playful hands.
Why I remember this theater, despite its physical ugliness, is mainly because of the many encounters I had here with different men who would seek out the company of other men to relieve whatever ails them sexually or probably emotionally. And one time, I met someone here who would become a lover for some time, and whom I would meet many years after in a different run-down movie theater in another part of Sta Cruz, Manila, but had since then been looking disheveled, older, and with one or two of his front teeth gone and not yet replaced. He would still recognize me but I would barely recognize him, which was unusual of me as I would always remember those who have been involved with me, one way or another. I heard his voice as he approached me while I was seated on the bench with faux leather in the dirty lobby of the balcony of that other theater.
We met in the first theater where I remember seeing him in his tucked-in shirt in denim pants and looking neat, cute and sexy. He's small in stature but you'd notice right away his bright, almond shaped eyes with long lashes and lips covered with light mustache. I never realized how hairy he was until we were together in a room that we hired for our first intimate encounter. We didn't stay much longer in the theater as soon as we met each other as the place was scalding hot and a lot of people were milling around us, probably hoping they could play with us, too.
I was soon penetrating him, which I continued as I stood over the bed and walked around the room, with him in his position where his legs were wrapped around my buttocks. I continued thrusting. And we continued kissing so longingly and warmly. Those were memorable kisses.
Afterwhich event, we hastily moved out of that rented space, which was around 3 blocks away from the theater. It's another very cheap looking motel, which the owners make money from, largely by renting the dirty looking rooms to people like us who need to keep what is left of our privacy while we're engaged in intimate acts we normally can't show to others. We would walk to Quezon Boulevard in Quiapo, the neighborhood next to Sta Cruz, where we took a jeep going to the Welcome Rotunda that stands along the border of Quezon City and Manila. I encouraged him to have a very tasty meat-based meal in a favorite foodstand where jeepney and taxi drivers would quickly have their meals. I totally enjoyed it, myself, as I had in the many previous times I was there.
The next time we were talking on the phone, he said he had a bad stomach from having that meal; I promised not to bring him there anymore. A few days after, he had to go back to the Middle East where he was then working. He would tell me of the many times that he almost got raped by Middle Eastern men who thought Filipino men are actually women in men's clothes. He came back again after a few months and we would meet and get to know each other better and become closer to each other's hearts. Soon, we became lovers and we would send each other snail mail for at least two or three years.
And he would proceed to marry a woman with whom during his honeymoon period, he would be calling me on the phone long distance. I wanted him to enjoy his honeymoon. And I couldn't believe it that he'd call me while being with his new bride. Another friend would tease me when I told him about it---it meant I was the one in mind of this fellow all along even if he was already married. I didn't really understand nor appreciate the meaning, for whatever reason it was that motivated him to call me while he's on his honeymoon.
His family, particularly his ageing mother, was happy to see him getting married. I know I heard from him one time that his mom knew about his previous long term relationship with someone who was a college teacher in one of the public universities along Taft Avenue, near the City Hall. But for some reason, they parted ways after some time. I would become his next long term lover, and we shared memories, mostly of the sexual variety to my recollection. I also knew that he contacted my Mom while they were both working in Saudi Arabia; my Mom was curious who he was in my life. I won't be able to explain myself to her, I would recall. How do you explain to your Mom that the one who called her from nowhere in a strange, middle eastern country, was actually her son's current lover (and who could have been her son-in-law if marriages among those of the same sex had been legal in the Philippines).
But he's a warm, loving in his own ways, thoughtful, sweet person who taught himself to love someone like me who's adventurous, bullheaded, arrogant, and temperamental. I was still in the process of discovering myself along these encounters. Those intimate encounters we had were tempestuous yet we complemented each other's bodies; he's among those few I met who I deeply really cared about and actually enjoyed having me inside of him. Being abroad and most probably lonely most times, he's the one who would often write me handwritten letters with his latest photos attached, some of which had been very revealing. I would imagine him making it up with a lot of lusty-looking Middle Eastern men, but I didn't have the gall to ask and confront him about the truth being previewed in my youthful and jealousy-wrought imagination. I just didn't know how to cope with the long distance relationship then in place between us, and we were then both young, goodlooking and proud, which probably gave us so many other opportunities to date and hang-out with other people in and out our respective networks.
Somehow, his marriage floundered. His wife would be the one to stay and work in the Middle East. He would soon be tasked to take care of their son, so he stayed in the Philippines. Domestic issues in their marriage crept in. I saw the toll on his face. But he then had a new lover and they even brought me to the place where they live. It's in the middle of a squatters community somewhere in Manila. A lot of the houses are in concrete, and they show the growing affluence of their owners who have relatives abroad who would send money back to the Philippines and gradually improve their respective economic standing in the local neighborhood. They've got very similar narratives with other families I know personally. But in contrast, my friend and his lover live in a very humble, pock-marked house where they would work together to build a cooked food retailing business, sold on cash basis. Somehow, the earnings had been sustaining them, it seemed to me as I continued observing their situation as we got drunk and shared merriment among ourselves.
Nowadays, I would see him on Facebook often. His memory has been etched in my mind now, most particularly the time when he showed up in the funeral of my late father, whom he knew personally. I was then already involved seriously with another partner. I think I managed to introduce them together. I just don't know what my partner then was thinking after the introduction I made. I guess, I could not guess that correctly anymore.
Having been away from the Philippines for over 6 years now, I don't know if this particular movie theater still exists somewhere in Manila as of this writing. It's standing right in front of this well known old restaurant called 'Ambos Mundos' in Sta Cruz, Manila, which I believe is along an old street called Oroquieta that runs parallel to Rizal Avenue where the LRT passes by before it crosses over the Pasig Rvier. Based on the details I would notice inside, the movie theater must have been one of the best looking theatres on its heydays but it has been in its rundown state by the time I discovered it in one of my innumerable sojourns in Manila and had since then started watching so many Tagalog movies inside, which were billed as double so you get to watch 2 movies at a price of one. Not a bad deal for someone with so little spare money for entertainment, and the deal becomes better as you get the chance to cruise around and play with fellows who may get attracted to you or those you would find interesting and attractive. Couples would make it while seated, or even in the bathroom. In the darkness inside the theater that was just lighted by the shadows cast off by the huge and already dust-covered screen, I saw all imaginable positions being performed by those who willingly played before my eyes; I remember seeing straight couples as well every now and then. And I also knew some families, most probably those of the workers in the theatre, live in one or two of the small rooms built-in into the theater.
This is not the same theater many of us regular patrons would call 'Perlas' or the Tagalog translation of the word 'pearl,' which was grittier and easier to find as the building stands on the main road, Rizal Avenue. This is another of those run down theatres where I would see more flagrant and more shocking activities done among men who would get together to enjoy and have fun in each other's lovingly extended arms and playful hands.
Why I remember this theater, despite its physical ugliness, is mainly because of the many encounters I had here with different men who would seek out the company of other men to relieve whatever ails them sexually or probably emotionally. And one time, I met someone here who would become a lover for some time, and whom I would meet many years after in a different run-down movie theater in another part of Sta Cruz, Manila, but had since then been looking disheveled, older, and with one or two of his front teeth gone and not yet replaced. He would still recognize me but I would barely recognize him, which was unusual of me as I would always remember those who have been involved with me, one way or another. I heard his voice as he approached me while I was seated on the bench with faux leather in the dirty lobby of the balcony of that other theater.
We met in the first theater where I remember seeing him in his tucked-in shirt in denim pants and looking neat, cute and sexy. He's small in stature but you'd notice right away his bright, almond shaped eyes with long lashes and lips covered with light mustache. I never realized how hairy he was until we were together in a room that we hired for our first intimate encounter. We didn't stay much longer in the theater as soon as we met each other as the place was scalding hot and a lot of people were milling around us, probably hoping they could play with us, too.
I was soon penetrating him, which I continued as I stood over the bed and walked around the room, with him in his position where his legs were wrapped around my buttocks. I continued thrusting. And we continued kissing so longingly and warmly. Those were memorable kisses.
Afterwhich event, we hastily moved out of that rented space, which was around 3 blocks away from the theater. It's another very cheap looking motel, which the owners make money from, largely by renting the dirty looking rooms to people like us who need to keep what is left of our privacy while we're engaged in intimate acts we normally can't show to others. We would walk to Quezon Boulevard in Quiapo, the neighborhood next to Sta Cruz, where we took a jeep going to the Welcome Rotunda that stands along the border of Quezon City and Manila. I encouraged him to have a very tasty meat-based meal in a favorite foodstand where jeepney and taxi drivers would quickly have their meals. I totally enjoyed it, myself, as I had in the many previous times I was there.
The next time we were talking on the phone, he said he had a bad stomach from having that meal; I promised not to bring him there anymore. A few days after, he had to go back to the Middle East where he was then working. He would tell me of the many times that he almost got raped by Middle Eastern men who thought Filipino men are actually women in men's clothes. He came back again after a few months and we would meet and get to know each other better and become closer to each other's hearts. Soon, we became lovers and we would send each other snail mail for at least two or three years.
And he would proceed to marry a woman with whom during his honeymoon period, he would be calling me on the phone long distance. I wanted him to enjoy his honeymoon. And I couldn't believe it that he'd call me while being with his new bride. Another friend would tease me when I told him about it---it meant I was the one in mind of this fellow all along even if he was already married. I didn't really understand nor appreciate the meaning, for whatever reason it was that motivated him to call me while he's on his honeymoon.
His family, particularly his ageing mother, was happy to see him getting married. I know I heard from him one time that his mom knew about his previous long term relationship with someone who was a college teacher in one of the public universities along Taft Avenue, near the City Hall. But for some reason, they parted ways after some time. I would become his next long term lover, and we shared memories, mostly of the sexual variety to my recollection. I also knew that he contacted my Mom while they were both working in Saudi Arabia; my Mom was curious who he was in my life. I won't be able to explain myself to her, I would recall. How do you explain to your Mom that the one who called her from nowhere in a strange, middle eastern country, was actually her son's current lover (and who could have been her son-in-law if marriages among those of the same sex had been legal in the Philippines).
But he's a warm, loving in his own ways, thoughtful, sweet person who taught himself to love someone like me who's adventurous, bullheaded, arrogant, and temperamental. I was still in the process of discovering myself along these encounters. Those intimate encounters we had were tempestuous yet we complemented each other's bodies; he's among those few I met who I deeply really cared about and actually enjoyed having me inside of him. Being abroad and most probably lonely most times, he's the one who would often write me handwritten letters with his latest photos attached, some of which had been very revealing. I would imagine him making it up with a lot of lusty-looking Middle Eastern men, but I didn't have the gall to ask and confront him about the truth being previewed in my youthful and jealousy-wrought imagination. I just didn't know how to cope with the long distance relationship then in place between us, and we were then both young, goodlooking and proud, which probably gave us so many other opportunities to date and hang-out with other people in and out our respective networks.
Somehow, his marriage floundered. His wife would be the one to stay and work in the Middle East. He would soon be tasked to take care of their son, so he stayed in the Philippines. Domestic issues in their marriage crept in. I saw the toll on his face. But he then had a new lover and they even brought me to the place where they live. It's in the middle of a squatters community somewhere in Manila. A lot of the houses are in concrete, and they show the growing affluence of their owners who have relatives abroad who would send money back to the Philippines and gradually improve their respective economic standing in the local neighborhood. They've got very similar narratives with other families I know personally. But in contrast, my friend and his lover live in a very humble, pock-marked house where they would work together to build a cooked food retailing business, sold on cash basis. Somehow, the earnings had been sustaining them, it seemed to me as I continued observing their situation as we got drunk and shared merriment among ourselves.
Nowadays, I would see him on Facebook often. His memory has been etched in my mind now, most particularly the time when he showed up in the funeral of my late father, whom he knew personally. I was then already involved seriously with another partner. I think I managed to introduce them together. I just don't know what my partner then was thinking after the introduction I made. I guess, I could not guess that correctly anymore.
Some Cruising Mini-Adventures in Central Park's The Rambles
My first book is now available in hardcover, paperback, e-book formats from my online store, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Xlibris.com, Powell's Books, and other online stores.
I don't know how I discovered this particular area in Manhattan's Central Park but I knew right away that something seriously sexual happens in the said location. Admittedly, I've had several encounters there but I haven't been in the area as often as I used to cruise most actively back in Intramuros, Manila in the Philippines. I think it's the age factor and the idea that it's not really new to me as it used to be when I was back in the Philippines. And I would proudly tell about this discovery to another good friend who's now also based in New York City (NYC) and has since then introduced the location to some of his choiced friends.
Actually, I'm also proud that my loads of experience in cruising back in the Philippines would help me make it with other men who are on the look out for other men mainly for sex in public spaces here in NYC. I've seen similar scenes in Los Angeles a few days after I arrived from the Philippines; a new found friend brought me to a park, which has a space turned into something like an elevated man-made lake surrounded with trees and designed to collect water for use during long dry summer months. I saw some really serious scenes there among men who would openly do everything they have in mind under the very bright glare of the sun. Some of them were, needless to say, really goodlooking and interesting. I could only watch in silence, loaded with envy and would get so physically hungry.
At the Rambles, I've had a few experiences, and I could even remember all of them. I've not been that back as often as I wanted to; Central Park's mainly designed for activities other than cruising. And I assume some would think I'm committing something sacrilegious by thinking and using Central Park for more earthly, passion-driven basic activities. But the park, on the overall, is basically designed as well to meet and have fun with people, even for a few, furtive, secretive moments, which I've learned would happen openly even with the efforts of the cops and other concerned citizens to control such activities. It can't be denied that there's a market for such activities to happen in Central Park, although I know nothing commercial of the sexual variety happens there.
I recall making it with a black guy whose father was a black German in Nazi Germany and who married another black woman from the US. Before our meeting, I never had an idea that there were Black Germans as I recall blond headed people from movies I saw about Nazi Germany. This black guy and myself would end up being together after kissing each other and in finishing our scene together in front of the Bethesda Fountain that very late evening. I even saw a wild raccoon stepping out for some time and standing beside us as we were working on our steamy poses. And I knew I was scared as any time the guards would be showing up. Not surprisingly, he's among the most endowed fellows I've met so far, which size I don't particularly remember because I focused much on the passion I felt from him while we were kissing for so long, such that we decided we had to finish the act by making sure both of us would come.
And I would still recall with some fondness over making it with a very blond medium height, goodlooking guy with a bit of a tummy and who works as an airline purser. It was summer and he was in his shorts, white undershirt and flip flops as he explained he walked all the way from his Upper West Side apartment to the Rambles. He happened to work with someone I knew and he would even share me some gossip about this guy, who happens to be another interesting blond fellow who's a Mormon and was happy about his life here in NYC. It was embarrassing learning about those things from him as we proceeded to do what we wanted from each other. I was happy making it out with him. I was wondering why he seemed not to be sweating at all, as if he's got no sweat glands, which observation is something that can not be said about me as I'm a huge sweat-er as a person as long as I could remember. I was sure I would be sweating profusely if I was in his position, especially with those actions we were doing to each other.
And I would recall making it the first time I ever did cruising at the Rambles with someone of big build, 70's-style mustachioed on his doe-eyed brown face, who's a Latino blue-collar-worker-type guy who spoke Spanish to me, as soon as he set his eyes on me. As I would soon discover, he was really fun to be with during that particular afternoon encounter while I could hear some water droplets dripping continuously somewhere. As I was working on him, I looked up at him to see his facial reactions. I was surprised to see he's been knitting something with both his hands. Upon being asked, he explained that he was making a sweater for the coming winter months. I could only smile to myself as I walked away after thanking him for that particularly unique encounter.
I don't know how I discovered this particular area in Manhattan's Central Park but I knew right away that something seriously sexual happens in the said location. Admittedly, I've had several encounters there but I haven't been in the area as often as I used to cruise most actively back in Intramuros, Manila in the Philippines. I think it's the age factor and the idea that it's not really new to me as it used to be when I was back in the Philippines. And I would proudly tell about this discovery to another good friend who's now also based in New York City (NYC) and has since then introduced the location to some of his choiced friends.
Actually, I'm also proud that my loads of experience in cruising back in the Philippines would help me make it with other men who are on the look out for other men mainly for sex in public spaces here in NYC. I've seen similar scenes in Los Angeles a few days after I arrived from the Philippines; a new found friend brought me to a park, which has a space turned into something like an elevated man-made lake surrounded with trees and designed to collect water for use during long dry summer months. I saw some really serious scenes there among men who would openly do everything they have in mind under the very bright glare of the sun. Some of them were, needless to say, really goodlooking and interesting. I could only watch in silence, loaded with envy and would get so physically hungry.
At the Rambles, I've had a few experiences, and I could even remember all of them. I've not been that back as often as I wanted to; Central Park's mainly designed for activities other than cruising. And I assume some would think I'm committing something sacrilegious by thinking and using Central Park for more earthly, passion-driven basic activities. But the park, on the overall, is basically designed as well to meet and have fun with people, even for a few, furtive, secretive moments, which I've learned would happen openly even with the efforts of the cops and other concerned citizens to control such activities. It can't be denied that there's a market for such activities to happen in Central Park, although I know nothing commercial of the sexual variety happens there.
I recall making it with a black guy whose father was a black German in Nazi Germany and who married another black woman from the US. Before our meeting, I never had an idea that there were Black Germans as I recall blond headed people from movies I saw about Nazi Germany. This black guy and myself would end up being together after kissing each other and in finishing our scene together in front of the Bethesda Fountain that very late evening. I even saw a wild raccoon stepping out for some time and standing beside us as we were working on our steamy poses. And I knew I was scared as any time the guards would be showing up. Not surprisingly, he's among the most endowed fellows I've met so far, which size I don't particularly remember because I focused much on the passion I felt from him while we were kissing for so long, such that we decided we had to finish the act by making sure both of us would come.
And I would still recall with some fondness over making it with a very blond medium height, goodlooking guy with a bit of a tummy and who works as an airline purser. It was summer and he was in his shorts, white undershirt and flip flops as he explained he walked all the way from his Upper West Side apartment to the Rambles. He happened to work with someone I knew and he would even share me some gossip about this guy, who happens to be another interesting blond fellow who's a Mormon and was happy about his life here in NYC. It was embarrassing learning about those things from him as we proceeded to do what we wanted from each other. I was happy making it out with him. I was wondering why he seemed not to be sweating at all, as if he's got no sweat glands, which observation is something that can not be said about me as I'm a huge sweat-er as a person as long as I could remember. I was sure I would be sweating profusely if I was in his position, especially with those actions we were doing to each other.
And I would recall making it the first time I ever did cruising at the Rambles with someone of big build, 70's-style mustachioed on his doe-eyed brown face, who's a Latino blue-collar-worker-type guy who spoke Spanish to me, as soon as he set his eyes on me. As I would soon discover, he was really fun to be with during that particular afternoon encounter while I could hear some water droplets dripping continuously somewhere. As I was working on him, I looked up at him to see his facial reactions. I was surprised to see he's been knitting something with both his hands. Upon being asked, he explained that he was making a sweater for the coming winter months. I could only smile to myself as I walked away after thanking him for that particularly unique encounter.
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The Garden of Two Dragons Fucking by Jerusalino V. AraosMy review
rating: 5 of 5 starsremarkably illustrated, concise, and irreverent (not a porno book, whatsoever)!!! an old friend lent me a copy years ago, and have found it very fascinating. of course, part of the excitement of reading this book is it's "curious" title. it's actually a children's book, (would you believe?), by araos, a respected artist in the philippines. the title may be offensive to most adults who have concerns about "fucking," but i'd believe parents would become more authentic as "persons" (who get hurt, need to be loved, need to love as well, etc.) to their children, if they get to have them read this book. you may not need to explain the title, as there's really no need for it. its being "irreverent" is mainly because of the use of the word 'fucking' & nothing else. it's all about discovering your being you as a person, pursuing your dreams, and not that one person others may have in mind when they see you. i could not get hard copies of this book myself, so i kept a xeroxed copy of it in my library back in the philippines.
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