The Walk

The streets are empty. It's midnight and most people are home, sleeping. But here I am walking the streets of my hometown, hoping that one kindred soul is also out on the street just like me, looking to fill up an emptiness that has been welling up in the soul and wanting ephemeral gratification. The odds are heavily stacked against me. But desperation knows not its boundaries. I keep my fingers crossed that a person coming from the opposite direction would be a match to my raging hormones tonight.

I walk a few blocks. Not much luck. All I see are drunks, tottering home. But I am not discouraged. I plod on. Until my feet lead me to an internet cafe that's open 24/7. An oasis in the desert that is my hometown. A temporary relief. But tomorrow, I must walk the lonely walk again, for a chance at salvation.

Is This It?

He has always been evasive from me. But I was smitten the very first time I saw him. I fell for his stocky built, his bronze skin, the fatherly-look, the manliness.

He is constantly moving around, walking at a brisk pace and always throwing glances. But never locking eyes with anyone. I have been tailing him and have known his habits: He'd stay in one corner and wait for someone to perform a hand job or fellatio on him or he'd get near someone of his liking and seduce him into having sex with him. He never does a hand job nor does he perform a blow-job, always playing the passive partner in his sexual encounters inside the cinema. And he never relishes being watched, suddenly disengaging from the sexual act once he notices someone is observing. Even leaving his partner behind without a word to go to another corner of the cinema.

I constantly stalked him. I'd stand next to him at the urinals, stealing peeks at his dick which he would halfheartedly conceal from me--covering it with his hands but not reacting when I would move forward to take a closer look at it. He'd just look up at me(he's short, about 5 feet and 2 inches tall) and look away. And leave, once he was done voiding, never giving any indication that he wanted to be followed.

One time, during a panic-buying time (The time when the last full show is within minutes of ending and gay patrons become frantic for a last lay, or for a last quickie.), I was with a friend and we're playing with ourselves inside the CR (there were about 7 other people left at the orchestra section) when he came inside and assumed the role of a peeping tom. He stood by the door, observing us but his body was turned towards the door, having a stance that said he was walking away any minute. I motioned for him to join us. He did as bidden, and took out his dong and started stroking it. But he never made any attempt to hold another man's dick, much less suck it. He just went along doing what he was doing. When we came off, he just tucked his dick inside, not caring even if he didn't come and simply walked away.

The next time I bumped into him inside the cinema, I pursued him, falsely believing that he would be an easy lay on the strength of the jerkoff session I had with him a few days ago. But he became elusive again. A little hostile even. At one point during the pursuit, he looked at me with annoyance, knitted his forehead and clucked his tongue in a very dismissive manner. Hurt and realizing that he was not into me, I distanced myself, ignoring him the next times our paths would cross inside the orchestra section.

Then two months ago, about 4 months after that jerkoff session, I found him not avoiding me. We were standing next to each other at the back of the orchestra section, close to the wall and a few steps from one of the swing doors. He moved towards me without uttering a word (we haven't exchanged a word until this time). He particularly pushed his groin area toward me, and before long, I was caressing him. I stood behind him and started groping him. We were doing this for over 30 minutes already when, without saying a word, he disentangled himself from me and walked away. I was thinking he'd go to the john and return. But he never did. I looked for him again and when I bumped into him, he had already switched to the evasive mode again.

I resigned myself to the fact that he was not into me, although from among the regular habitues of my favorite cinema, he's the most attractive to me. I said to myself that he'd just be a memory, a living memory at that since I knew that we'd be bumping into each other again.

But last Sunday, the memory became a dream again. I was standing near the water fountain when I caught a glimpse of him coming into my direction. Tired from doing the rounds for almost 3 hours already and with no lay to show, I made no effort to conceal what I felt for him. I knew that the fondness and the longing was written all over my face when he caught me looking at him. He met my eyes, though. And in those eyes, I saw the same longing that was burning in my body. My flagging spirit perked up. But when he got past me, I knew that my longing would go unfulfilled again.

But he turned back, choosing to sit in a place near me and returned the same look of desire that I showed in my body. I didn't waste time. I sat beside him. Discreetly, so as not to alert the other people to the growing connection between us and started what would be my most satisfying sexual encounter in that cinema.

A Fatherly Reprimand

There was more annoyance to it than hatred. It sounded more like a fatherly advice from someone who's a little frustrated with his son. But it was stinging. I felt my face burned, and the embarrassment quickened my steps towards the door of the rest room.

I should have listened to my friend who already cautioned me that the guy was straight. But the temptation was too strong to resist. I was at the far end of the urinal, near the window, when he came in and headed to the lavatory. With his back turned to everyone, he took out his dick and washed it. I should have taken note of the fact that he made a conscious effort to hide his dick. But lust took the better of me. I moved forward in his direction and took a peek at his dick. He saw me and immediately concealed his birdie. And let out words I would never forget.

"Pareho tayong lalaki. Hindi tayo talo. Para na kitang anak."

The last statement, of course, didn't refer to a biological relationship between us. Although he's a familiar face, I didn't know him from Adam. He was just referring to the age difference between us.

I felt so embarrassed and until now, when I bump into him at the cinema I would cast down my eyes.

Cheated

I have followed him to the restroom several times. And although I made sure that he didn't notice me while inside it and pretending to be urinating, I knew that he knew I was following him. He urinated often, visiting the rest room every after 45 minutes which made me suspect that he was gay, too. But when I started stalking him, all my suspicion got dispelled. He'd go direct to a urinal, not searching the faces of people coming from the opposite direction and would pee without taking any glance at the people voiding on the other urinals. His face would look casual, indifferent, unlike those of the gay men which would look expectant, a little tense, on the lookout. And he never cared if his dick was exposed while voiding, holding it with his left hand and never really stepping forward to the urinal to be concealed by the dividers.

The Man In Uniform

I first caught sight of him the first time I ventured into that cruising area just outside the fence of the Golf Course. He was having a conversation with a friend of mine from a cinema in Quiapo. Having the feeling that it was a cruise talk, I decided not to greet my friend. My friend falls for DILFs and this was one DILF.

The man was doing some stretching exercises while carrying a conversation with my friend. He was about 5'5," with a lean body, although a little bulge was showing on the stomach area. He looked to be in his early 60's.

Since the guy was also my type, I took a seat on the ledge of a flower box about 20 meters away to observe them. The overgrown flowers covered me from the light coming from the streetlights effectively not alerting them about the presence of a peeping tom.

When he's not doing the stretching, the man was rubbing on his crotch area. And my friend would steal grabs at the man's privates, without any sign of protest. At one time, he took a pee beside a tree, and my friend took a position beside him, looking at the man's dick all the time. There was no attempt to conceal his dick. This man was game, I concluded.

But a few minutes passed and they still had not decided to go somewhere else to do the thing. I decided to walk around and look for action. True enough, in another portion there was a three-some going on. When it ended, I went back to where my friend and his quarry were, but they were already gone.

I thought that was going to be the last time I would see the man. But just yesterday morning, on my second visit to the cruise area, I found him there, in the same getup, doing some stretching beside the flower ledge. Our eyes met

The Balcony

I should not be going there. The young ones are there. And the callboys. The young ones are not much of a sexual object to me. DILFs turn me on. And the callboys are annoying in their ways (There should be a finishing school for male prostitutes here in the Philippines.). I should avoid them like a plague.

But the boredom that was gripping me because of the absence of a "passable" prey forced me to go outside of my territorial range, the orchestra section, and into the unexplored territory, the balcony. And what a wise decision it was. I got rewarded with two hand jobs within three minutes of each other and just a few minutes into my foray into that unchartered land. Looking for a third conquest, I realized that doing the rounds upstairs was a sweaty proposition--there was a larger area to cover and a much more difficult terrain to negotiate, given the steep climbs up and down. Not one to relish perspiration while still in workclothes, I retreated and went back to my home, the orchestra.

But the reinforced behavior will see itself repeated in the coming days. Just last night, out of boredom again, I wandered upstairs and almost succeeded on a handjob, had it not been for the presence of an old lady-employee who kept on panning her flashlight on the moviegoers, effectively preventing brewing steamy action. Upon entering the section, I immediately headed for the seats at the highest level where most action took place. I took a seat across the aisle from the seats of three gentlemen seated one chair apart. When I looked at the man nearest me, I saw him rubbing his crotch area. Getting the signal for action, I stared at his crotch area. He was stroking it and in a few seconds, took out his fully erect penis that was big for a man who stood around 5'3" and weighed about a hundred pounds. He was about 50 years old, with receding hairline. He looked neat in checkered short pants and plain white shirt.

He made no attempt to conceal his huge dick from the other men on the same row of seats with him, although it was clear the exhibition was for me. The man next to him moved one seat closer and the third man followed suit. I took the seat directly below his seat on the next row. And when I saw him exposing his dong again, I immediately grabbed it and started stroking, while paying close attention to the lady-guard.

I have not visited the cinema for a long time now. A few months ago, I said that I shouldn't court the danger of being under the strong lights of a tv crew if and when the place gets raided, which happens every year according to the regulars. This place is known for hardcore homosexual conduct of its patrons: blowjobs, orgies, anal intercourse (And many of them done for show). And it's notorierity is no secret to the police. It's just that the owners know how to handle the police.





Perhaps, the danger of being caught in a police raid is part of the charm of this sex haven for gays. I'm drawn to it. And it was by force of habit that I found myself tracing the steps to this establishment when I decided against doing what I planned to do in Cubao that particular evening: listen to band music at the basement of Farmer's Market.





When I stepped inside the orchestra, there were no more than 3 people, a far cry from the regular 50+. And they were not my type so I immediately headed to the balcony. And the place was sparsely populated too. Around 20. Slim pickings indeed.



But there was no turning back anymore. Might as well get the most out of it so I did my rounds. "Where are the exhibitionists?" I began to ask myself, when the first round didn't prove rewarding. "Ok, lower your expectations and settle for what is available."

Call Boy I

There was no exchange of names. Only smiles. I was leaning against one wall of the cinema-- well-entrenched in my peeping tom position as two elderly guys made out behind me-- when he passed by, smiled and stood next to me, also leaning against the wall.





My first impression was: "Why is this call boy (CB) singling me out?" CB was too young to be a regular habitue of the "orchestra" section of my favorite cinema and he sported a rather unusual way of getting a lay: by smiling. Or it could have been just him. The veterans don't smile to win a partner in that part of the world. A simple look would do.





We didn't have a chance to talk as another fiftyish guy stood next him. And as my attention was drawn to the partners behind me, I didn't realize that something was developing between CB and the other guy. When I looked at the direction of CB, he was already busy doing a hand job on the other guy. And moments later, they agreed to find a better to make out, heading towards the seats at the back.

Rey

I feel sad for him. Although Rey wouldn't admit it, he's sad. Earlier today, he told me that he'd split up with his companion of 12 years.
"Did you have a fight?" I asked.
"No, he just left and I would not want him back," he replied.
I couldn't restrain myself. I continued with the probing.
"What happened?"
"He embezzled the alms entrusted to him for depositing. He lost the money in "tong-its" and couldn't go back to our neighborhood out of shame and in fear of what the grieving family and friends would do to him because of what he had done."
"Don' t you want him back?"
"No. This is the last straw. I have forgiven all his transgressions in the past. But this is unforgivable. From now on he has to look out for himself. I picked him up from the streets which he considered home for most of his life and he's going back there. My home has no place for him anymore."
"I thought you love him dearly, doing everything for him."

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Stalking

Before I landed my current job, I used to go to Farmers' in Cubao to while away the time. I've always been a fan of band performances and the basement food gallery features a different band everyday of the week, just what I am looking for when I've got nothing better to do. Now that I'm working, I still go there when time allows.

One band stands out for me. Not that it has exceptional singers nor outstanding musicians. This band, although its repertoire always passes my standards, revs up my sexual enerygy because of its drummer or alternate male drummer (The regular percussionist is a she).



The drummer is not drop-dead gorgeous. He is far from that. Most people will not give him a second glance when they see him. He is moreno and short (about 5'4"). And I am not sure about his worth as a drummer, either. Many times, I've seen the reaction of the lead guitarist ( who, I suppose, is the bandleader) when he seems to make errors in his playing. And even if I am not a musician, I can say that sometimes he goes out of synch with the rest of the band members.

But he is a deadringer for the person I recently fell for. The way he sways his head and swings his elbows while beating the drums paints a picture of my ex-fantasy. And without my willing it, the fantasy is rekindled and now lives on in him. I find myself waiting for the day of the week they're playing and going to the venue to watch his performance.

During their gigs, they have two 30-minute breaks. And several times, I've followed him to the rest room to check him out. And I've realized there's not a chance I'm going to have a peek at hid dick because of the way he urinates: standing very close to the urinal and covering his little secret with his hands. "Is it small," I've often wondered because of the way he takes care that it be not exposed.

Larry

We've seen each other before. In the same place, under the same circumstances. A movietheater in Cubao, at a time when we both needed quickies.

He struck me as too aggressive, smiling and winking at me when our paths crossed at the rest room, which is my official playground at the establishment. I had seen him earlier at the lobby, joking around with friends in a voice and tone that suggested that he's a regular at the place and that seemed to tell me that he's rather loud, a trait I wouldn't want to be associated with. And although he looked manly enough in his ways, I had a gut feel that he's effeminate . So I didn't return the smile, much less the wink.

He kept pursuing me, however, never tiring at smiling whenever we'd bump into each other inside the moviehouse. But I just ignored him the whole time I was at the cinema. It was about 2 months ago.

But last week, on August 5, 2009, I couldn't ignore him when I bumped into him at the rest room. There were just the two of us. I was about to finish urinating and he had just come in and taken a place in front of one of the urinals to void himself. Two urinals separated us. When I looked at him, I saw a different aura, an inviting one. I remembered him, but I no longer saw him as someone I had to avoid. I didn't know if it was the dark shirt he's wearing that lent that x-factor to him. He looked very virile in his get-up that day. I couldn't point a finger on it but there was something about him that day that drew me to him. And he had a handsome dick--the shape, size and color of which I liked.

I knew that he saw the interest in my eyes. And I felt a little embarrassed. I snobbed him before, and here I was showing an interest in him.

The feeling of embarrassment made me decide against jerking off with him inside the rest room. I zipped my fly and went to the lobby just ourside the rest room. I took a seat at the chair nearest the door of the rest room. A few moments later, my guy came out of the CR, flashed the same smile he gave me two months ago, and took a seat next to mine.

Romy

I chanced upon him on my way from the CR to the back of the cinema. Rey, the masseur, was kneading his back and he was half-naked. Even in the darkness of the cinema, I could see that he had a massive body. He was old, around 60 in my estimation, wore a dark skin tone and very manly. I have never been a big fan of muscled bodies but there was something about him that drew me to him. He had an animal appeal that I found hard to resist.



I helped myself to a place a seat away from them. His back was turned to me, giving me all the time to size him up without him observing me. I would have not looked at his body with so much lust if he had the chance to observe. The "Dalagang Pinay" in me would have cringed at the thought of being exposed as having lustful desires over another man.



Having seen me take a seat near them, Rey started a conversation with me. Small talk, about sundry topics. Before long, muscle man joined in our conversation, stealing glances at me from time to time. He's soft-spoken and a little bit shy, traits that I find mysterious in any man I meet.

When the massage was over, muscle man took his leave and went straight through the main door.

A few days later, I bumped into him at the same cinema. He was seated in front and a guy had taken the seat next to him. Muscle man gave him a long look and contorted his body, conveying the unmistakable message that he was not interested in the guy.

When the guy left, I immediately took the vacated seat. He gave me the same long look but didn't contort his body. Having the gut feel that he also liked me, I groped him, immediately aiming for the crotch. But he resisted, holding my hand in check. I didn't know if he's just playing hard-to-get, because he never said a word, never left his seat and just looked at me without letting go of my hand. And then he made the explanation that he never allowed anyone to sexually molest him inside the cinema. If he agreed to an invitation for sex, he did it inside a motel, after a round of two of Red Horse, to shake off his inhibitions.

The Rendezvous

It's Friday, the day my Hottie from Naga would show up again at the moviehouse in Quiapo for our rendezvous. I entered the moviehouse around 7 pm and immediately looked for him around. He wasn't in yet.


My routine was the same one I did two days earlier. I know it was a waste of time looking for him on Wednesday when he said that he'd be back on Friday, that's today. But I was emotionally a slave, so the exercise could not have been much of a waste.

I decided to while away the time by paying attention to the movie. I'm always in moviehouses, but I seldom watch the movies being shown in them since I always get occupied by something else whenever there.


An hour passed. I did my rounds again. There was no sign of him. I was beginning to lose hope.


I went back to being a legitimate moviegoer again. Until two hours passed. I walked around again, hoping he just got caught up in some traffic and had arrived late. Still, there was no sign of him.

"Okay," I said to myself as I let out a deep breath, "I might as well enjoy the night by looking for a partner."

I found one. He was standing close to the wall near the entrance of the orchestra section of the cinema. We were standing there when a familiar figure came in and proceeded to the rest room. Upon seeing him, I immediately took my leave with my partner, explaining to him everything.

The Street Kid

"Wake up! Wake up!" "Kalbo's voice rang loud inside the moviehouse. With another person, he was standing over a man asleep at the front row. Roused from sleep, the man helped himself to a sitting position, constantly rubbing his eyes and looking at the person who rudely awakened him.

"You stay awake now. You''ve got a customer here, a friend of mine," Kalbo continued.

They were about 3 meters away from me and I distinctly heard Kalbo ask his friend to size the man up, "Feel him. You've got a handful there. Didn't I tell you he's well hung?" as the friend took a seat next to the roused man and started groping him.

There was no sign of resistance on the part of the awakened guy. He just sat there as if nothing was happening.

A few moments later, the friend stood up, walked with Kalbo in my direction and occupied the seats next to mine. The awakened guy spread his body again over four seats in the front row and continued his interrupted sleep.

Ang Pipi

Matagal na siyang umaalialigid sa akin. Hindi ko nga lang pinapansin. Kasi naman, nung una kaming nagtagpo, sa loob ng CR ng isang sinehan sa Quiapo, na-badtrip ako sa kanya.

Totoo, may dating siya sa akin. Mukha syang tatay, ang aking kahinaan pagdating sa lalaki. May katabaan siya sa taas na mga 5'3", moreno, may tyan, lalaking-lalaki kumilos, mga 45 anyos.

Nasa pinakahuling "urinal" sya nang una ko siyang makita. Hindi ko alam kung talagang umiihi sya dahil lingon syan ng lingon, isang bagay na madalas gawin ng mga baklang nagkukunwaring umiihi sa mga "public crs." Tinitingnan nya ang mga nakahilera sa mga urinal. At hindi nya itinatago ang pagbaba ng tingin nya sa gawing harapan ng mga umiihi. Tumitingin din sya sa mga pumapasok sa CR. Nung pumasok nga ako, nagkatitigan kami. Medyo mahaba. Halatang kapwa kami merong interes sa bawat isa. Una akong nagbaba ng tingin at puwesto sa hagdanan. Doon ay palihim kong inuobserbahan ang mga umiihi.

Hindi nagtagal, nagsimula na siyang laruin ang kanyang sarili. Ito'y ginawa rin ng isa pang nakaharap sa isa pang "urinal". Nang matitigas na ang kanilang mga alaga, nagpakitaan na sila. Pero walang nangahas lumapit. Hindi ko alam kung anong nangyari, bigla na lang umalis yung isang nagdyadyakul. At nagsialisan na rin ang ibang tao sa CR. Tatlo na lang kaming naiwan, yung isa nasa loob ng isa sa dalawang "cubicles" na katapat ng mga "urinals."


Lumapit sya sa akin na labas pa rin ang matigas na titi. Sinenyasan niya akong susuhin ko sya. Dahil hindi naman ako talagang sumususo, sinabi ko sa kanyang ayaw ko. Biglang nanlupaypay ang mga balikat nya at kumunot ang noo. Kasunod noon ipinasok na nya ang kanyang ari sa loob ng kanyang "brief" at nagkasya na lamang na tumayo sa isang tabi. Sa wari ko, nag-aantay sya ng mga iihi. Nagpasya na akong lumabas sa cr at mag-ikot uli sa loob ng sinehan upang maghanap ng "aksyon."

Sa aking paghahanap, makailang beses kaming nagkatagpo at sa bawat pagkukrus ng aming mga landas, sinesenyasan nya akong susuin sya na hindi ko naman pinagbibigyan.

Sa mga sumunod na mga araw, linggo at buwan, hindi sya napapagod na alukin ako tuwing magkikita kami sa sinehan. At sa tuwi-tuwina, hindi ko sya pinagbibigyan. Akala ko, okay lang sa kanya. Ngunit isang gabi, libog na libog ako, at malapit ng matapos ang huling sine at magsara ang sinehan. "Panic buying time" na. Nagpasya akong tabihan ang isang mama na nakaupo malapit sa cr. Habang nagkukwentuhan kami at nilalaro-laro ko ang ari ng aking ka-partner, nakita ko sya papasok sa cr pero nakatingin sa amin. At imbis na dumiretso sya sa cr ay lumapit sya sa amin. Bigla kong itinigil ang aking ginagawa at nagkunwaring nanonood ng sine. Inilapit nya ang kanyang mukha sa aking mukha sa layong mga 2 piye na parang kinikilala ako. Hindi ako kumibo. Alam kong aalis din sya. Ganon din ang ginawa nya sa aking partner. Nabigla ako sa kanyang sunod na ginawa. Huminga sya ng malalim, pinandilatan ako ng kanyang mga mata at tumingin sa aking partner sabay bitaw ng malakas sa salitang, "TSE!"

A Different Breed

The first and only time I saw him at the Times Theater in Quiapo was about three weeks ago. He was taking a leak at the urinal furthest from the door of the rest room. Several other moviegoers were inside the rest room. Some were taking a leak themselves and the others were just standing around.

He caught my attention. He had some charm in him. Dark-skinned, a little chubby with a drinker's tummy, just into the good-looking side and straight-acting enough. And he seemed to be interested in me, too.

As he voided, he would turn around from time to time checking everyone who came in as signalled by the loud noise created by the opening of the door. At other times, he'd turn around seeming to observe what the rest of the people inside the rest room were doing.

He stayed at his position for a long time, longer than a regular pee would have required him to stay there. I began to suspect that he was looking for some action. True enough, he began what looked like a stroking of his penis. I couldn't be sure since his dick was concealed from view by the concrete urinal divider. I didn't know if he was actually stroking his member or was just pretending to stroke it to seduce the people around him. But everyone seemed to mind his own business, casting him an innocent look from time to time but returning to what they were doing immediately afterwards. Nonetheless, he continued what he was doing.

Then, there was movement inside the rest room. One of the men standing around moved into another position which afforded him a better view of the man supposedly stroking his dong. The "mover" sat on his feet, seeming to invite the "stroker" to come near him for a blow job. Seeing the movement, the "stroker" suddenly turned around, exposing his now-erect penis to everyone. Everyone just watched as the "stroker" continued with what he he had been doing. Now, the "stroker's" attention seemed to be drawn by the "mover," as he kept glancing at the "mover."

A long while passed but everyone still kept to his position. A few minutes later, the people standing around, bored perhaps, started towards the door one by one until only the three of us, the "stroker," the "mover" and I, remained inside the rest room. After the last man had left, the "stroker" with his dick hanging out moved towards the "mover" and thrust his dick into the mouth of the "mover" who offered no resistance. Not a word was spoken between them as the long fellatio began.

I moved to another position for a better view so I could jerk off myself. Before I could come, people started coming inside the rest room and, not being an exhibitionist, I had to abandon my deed. But the "stroker" didn't seem to mind, never hiding his dick from everyone who came in, although he averted his eyes from the new entrants. It was the "mover" who got distracted by the opening of the door, stopping the blow job every time the door opened. But once the newcomer had already settled himself inside as a legitimate user of the rest room or another spectator of the action, the "stroker" would prod the "mover" to continue the deed and the "mover" would easily oblige.

At one point, there were about nine of us watching the action. But the "stroker" never seemed to mind, even positioning himself in such a way that the "watchers" had the best view of the action.

Several of the watchers got so aroused themselves that they paired up with each other and did their own gigs. No one, however, interfered with the action between the "stroker" and the "mover".

When someone "came," he'd wash himself at the lavatory and leave the rest room. More than 8 people had already done this and yet, the "stroker" and the "mover" were still at it. (The number of the watchers never went down, as new faces came inside the rest room.) I didn't know if the "stroker" was intentionally controlling his ejaculation or he really cummed long.

Almost an hour of fellatio had passed when the "stroker" finally came.

Just like everyone else, he washed himself after the deed and stepped outside of the rest room. I followed him. This was one character and it would be great to know him. But he was already making his way to the exit. He left without speaking to anyone and without looking back.

"Some tripper," I said to myself, as the main door closed behind him and he disappeared from view.

Last night, I saw him again at the rest room. He was occupying the same urinal, the one furthest from the door. But this time around, he was not taking a leak. He was stroking himself and he was showing it to everyone else inside the room. There was no taker for a long time until the masseur who was usually in white sleeveless shirt, faded denim short pants and rubber shoes came in. By this time, the "stroker" had already zipped up and occupied a position near the looking glass, just standing around.

The masseur told me (I joined the conversation he initiated with my old masseur-cum-fortune "teller-friend from Bulacan who had already gone out of the john at this time) that the stroker was a regular customer of his. "Serbis, not masahe," he clarified to me as he walked towards the "stroker." They spoke in a low voice, making me unable to understand what they were saying. A moment later, they walked towards the last cubicle and, once inside, locked themselves in.

I took it that they wanted privacy. I let them be and left the room for a stroll around the orchestra section. Minutes later, I went back to the loo to check on what's happening. On my way in, I bumped into the masseur who hooked up with the "stroker."

I asked him, "Were you able to finish?"

"Of course," he bragged, and left for an appointment outside the cinema.

I went inside the rest room and found the "stroker" still there. He had reclaimed his position near the mirror and was just standing around again. Since I knew that he had just come, I knew it would take some time before he got it up again. I left the room and lingered at the orchestra section. After 15 minutes or so, I went back again. I bumped into my masseur-cum-fortune-teller-friend on his way out.

"Hurry! You might miss the action," he warned me.

Without asking for the specifics, I darted inside. There, the "stroker" in the same position he occupied some three weeks ago was again receiving a fellatio from a habitue of Times. There was another captive audience. As in the last time around, he didn't mind the audience and seemed to enjoy it even. And as in the last time around, people came and went as they finished cumming. And as in the last time around, the "stroker" took a long time in cumming, practically allowing everyone else in the room to ejaculate before he did. And then he left. The same way he did last time: without speaking to anyone and without looking back.

He had long left the theater but I still couldn't shake him off my mind. Until now, I keep asking myself, "What drives him to do what he does?" I can understand the sex act. Everyone has a sex drive and most people act on it. But the exhibitionism is something else. It's beyond me.

Meanwhile, I'll keep going back to that moviehouse for the chance to see his performance again.

25 Things

In the past few days, I have been reading entries by my favorite bloggers similary titled 25 Things. I'm riding the bandwagon so I am writing my own version.

1. I have been depressed for a long time. About 20 years. At one point in my life, when it seemed I couldn't take it anymore, I saw a psychiatrist for counselling. We had about 6 sessions before I dropped out, first for a trip abroad and second because I decided I had to beat this thing, depression, on my own--without the aid of anti-depressants, tranquilizers and muscle relaxants and without the comforting words of the shrink during our sessions.

2. I stayed in the seminary for almost eight years (4 years high school and 3 and a half years college). I had wanted to become a priest, but the realization that with my sexuality I wouldn't become the kind of priest I had wanted myself to be, I had to abandon the idea. I knew that once I become a priest and assigned alone to a distant parish, I would become very lonely and would not be able to fight off the temptations of the flesh.

3. After nine years and three universities, I finally completed a four-year course, AB Philosophy and English.

4. I am into sports, very competitive at many events (basketball, tennis, pingpong, volleyball, badminton, etc.) not because of superior athleticism but more because of sports intelligence and wisdom. When I play, I turn the highly physical activity into one that is more of a mental endeavor. This is why I love coaching basketball because it becomes a puzzle to be solved.

5. I am a voyeur. I enjoy watching dicks of people urinating, of men having sex with their dongs exposed to me and without their knowing thay they are being observed. The level of arousal is so much lower when people intentionally show their dicks to me, or they perform sex knowing that someone was looking at them. I have been a voyeur since I was 5 or 6 years old. I remember one time at about this age running home, very scared that a neighbor, a respected high school teacher in his forties, found out that I was doing a peeping tom on him while he was taking a bath only in his briefs outdoors, by the jetmatic pump erected at the back of his house. He moved as if he sensed that someone was watching him, so I ran the hell out of my position towards home. Luckily, he didn't seem to have noticed me. Or perhaps, he just let it go. Either way, I was thankful.

6. I cummed first when I was in Grade 3. I had a peculiar way of stimulating myself which allowed me to come even without an erection and without doing a hand job on my member. I'd lie fully-clothed face down on a hard surface, gently rubbing my dick against the surface and letting my imagination do the rest. Even with people around, I could do this as long as they're not closely observing me. In three to five minutes, I'd be done.

7. I never had a wet dream.

8. I neither drink nor smoke. Even in social functions, I refuse to take a sip. When I was in the high school seminary and I had decided to become a priest, I said to myself that I would never give in to peer pressure. My friends and even some priests I respected (and respect until now) tried to coax me into trying these stuffs but I wouldn't waver on my resolve. However, I tried drinking at one point in my life, when I was already out of the seminary and well into my 20's. Out of curiousity. I drank with friends (who were just too happy to have me as a drinking buddy, finally) three-days-a-week for almost one month. One very bad case of vomitting after a drinking session and a terrible hangover afterwards would cut short my career as a drunkard.

9. I love eating. If I ever had a vice, this is it. I am a compulsive eater, however. The more stressed I am, the bigger my appetite becomes. When I am troubled, my body on a 5' 8" frame balloons and hovers between 95 and 99 kilograms. My breakfast, by the way, is not complete without a mug of non-fat milk.

10. I treasure these values--sincerity, honesty, generosity, fairness and kindness.

11. I find it very difficult to lie.

12. I won't do any household chore if I can help it. (In the province, we have a household help who'll do everything for me. And even if she's absent, my mother and my sister will be there for me to fill in for her. Here in Manila (I live with two of my sisters), we don't have any help so I am forced into doing it. Hu hu hu) I hate manual work and I'm afflicted with a syndrome which makes me believe that I'm far too important a person to be made to do manual work.

13. I don't wear any jewelry. I don't even have a wristwatch now (since my mobile phone has a clock and using it has rendered the wearing of wristwatch unnecessary).

14. I am good at written examinations:
NCEE= 99+
CSAT= 94
Civil Service Eligibiltiy Rating= 94.32

15. The sea and bodies of water have a very soothing effect on me when I'm in trouble. In my down moments, I love walking at the sea shore taking in the sound of waves breaking, the feel of the sea breeze blowing in my face and the sight of the sky meeting the sea at the horizon. The walk calms the spirit and reinvigorates the soul, making me ready to face life again.

16. My threshold for pain is low. Both for physical and emotional pain. I get hurt easily. But I am a forgiving person, always believing in the innate goodness of people.

17. I'm a procrastinator and, therefore, I'm always late for appointments. At one point in my life, I became convinced that I could not be happy in this life since I was gay. Because of this, I lost all the energy for meeting deadlines, keeping appointments on time. Why the rush when that wouldn't make me any happier? Why the rush when I would be disappointed anyway? (The pessimistic outlook, however, is changing now. For the better.)

18. I'm always sleep-deprived, getting an average of only 4 hours a night. I sleep very late (1-2 am) because all my troubles and worries descend upon me when I am already in bed. And I easily get roused from sleep. If awakened outside of my waking time, I'll find falling back asleep again a gargantuan task.
Sometimes, I take a tranquilizer to fall asleep. But not often enough to get addicted to it.

19. I love music. But don't ask me for lyrics of songs. What appeals to me is the melody of a song, not its lyrics. Even if I have listened to a song a hundred times, I wouldn't be able to piece together the lines if asked to. I really make no effort to memorize the lines of the songs I love.

20. I am not a fan of chatting via text. Text-chatting takes away my precious option of ignoring a sent item I don't like and don't feel like responding to.

21. I am a hypochondriac.

22. In my forty years of existence, I have never had a romantic relationship.

23. I was once a somnambulist. When I was in grade three, I used to walk in my sleep in the middle of the night. Good that all of us, the six members of my family (my parents and sisters), shared one big room. They would wake up before I could get out of the room (or crash into the wall, or jump off the window, or get a kitchen knife and harm someone, etc.).

24. I prefer a good conversation to a good sex.

25. I am very insecure. I always feel that I'm never good enough. Consider this: I am supposed to have an IQ of 147, classified as superior (higher than the above average category but only one notch immediately below the genius level), but I feel I always have to prove to people that I am intelligent.

A Discovery

When I enter a moviehouse, one of the very first things I do is to check the rest room for some action. Last night at the Times moviehouse, my visit to the rest room gave me a new insight on the games that people play.

I didn't step in as I opened the door of the rest room. I just peeked inside, checking if there were people around and if there was some action going on or if something was brewing. Instead I caught this:

"Sige! Itinatago mo na sa akin yan," the tall (about 6' 2") straight-acting and mestizo-looking guy (whom I shall call Tisoy in this entry) said in a pained tone as he descended the steps. Tisoy was talking to an old man (who will be known as Oldie in this entry) taking a pee at the urinal nearest the door. Oldie looked over 60 years old, was in flip flops and seemed to be wearing yesterday's clothes--a printed t-shirt and walking shorts, both a little soiled.

Before Tisoy blurted out those words, I saw Oldie make an effort to hide his dick when Tisoy tried to take a peek at his member. I missed the other parts of the conversation as I closed the door behind me since I didn't want to intrude. But I stayed where I was, just turning around and choosing to survey my playing field for the night. I had wanted to know where to go before I began walking around again. But my eyes had not adjusted to the darkness so I could not find people making out in their seats.

The door behind me suddenly opened and voices rang out, voices I recognized as coming from the two persons I chanced into at the rest room.

"Basta pakainin mo ako," Oldie said.

"Oo," Tisoy replied in a reassuring tone.

"Sa Greenwich ha!" Oldie pleaded.

"Oo sabi," Tisoy answered, a little peeved. "Kasama mo ba asawa mo?"

"Hindi," Oldie answered. "Ok. Labas tayo mamaya," Tisoy said as he ended the conversation.

Once outside the rest room, they began looking for a place to make out. They didn't go far, choosing to take the second and third seats of the second row from the restroom. Upon sitting, Tisoy gave his mobile phone to the older guy who began viewing something on it. Unable to see what Oldie was watching, I walked around and stood around behind them. I saw that Oldie was viewing a porn clip showing a very well-hung Negro receiving a blow job from a white woman. Later on, the porn artists settled in a missionary position.

Meanwhile, Tisoy had begun doing a hand job on Oldie. While at this, they were conversing. Later on, Tisoy gave him a fellatio. Oldie at this time had stopped viewing the clip. He had rested his head on the back rest and closed his eyes. He moved his head from side to side and moaned, enjoying every moment of the blow job. Before long, Oldie came. A few moments later, they left their seats as I left my own position to look for another pair to watch.

The "Basta,-pakainin-mo-ako part" was very revealing to me. I had thought that people in their advanced years who still go for same-sex release inside moviehouses are there for the simple pleasure of the orgasm. They are old, and they must have gotten over whatever sense of self-deprivation they must have suffered in their younger years. But this old man was different. He felt deprived. He was willing to engage in man-to-man sex in exchange for Greenwich food. Is he unique or are there people around who are very much like him in the moviehouses?

Bored

My forays into dilapidated moviehouses have become boring. I have realized that I meet the same group of people every time I go there and it seems that I don't find anyone of them live-in material. Yes, I am not really out there for a quickie (although I do this many times), but to find a soulmate, someone who's willing to co-habitate with me.

I am a unique soul in these gay havens. I don't suck, I don't allow anyone to do fellatio on me (although I used to do this before), and I don't engage in anal sex. So it's tough for me to find a mate inside the moviehouse.

So, what do I do inside moviehouses? Truth to tell, I am a voyeur. I enjoy watching people do it, even those whom I don't consider sexually appealing individually. When these sexually unappealing denizens of the theater pair up and make out, my testosterone level shoots up. This level shoots even higher when I see the hot ones do it. Especially when they do it inside the rest room where I have a chance to jack off without exposing my dick to anyone interested.

But my recent visits have not given me positive results. I am growing tired of the same people, the regulars, I bump into at the theater. They no longer affect my libido in a favorable way. Is it time to look for another gay haven?

An Encounter to Remember?

Tonight, I went to Times in Quiapo by force of habit. Lately, my forays into this type of gay haven, old moviehouses, have become strained and my gut seems to be telling me to look for a new type of gay adventure for my ever-expanding gay universe. But for lack of something better to do, I found myself boarding a PUJ bound for Quiapo Ilalim and picking my way to the theater.

I didn't intend to stay long. When I left the house, I knew that if there was no traffic buildup on the intersection of Lacson and Dapitan Streets and at the traffic light in front of the Central Market, I would arrive at my destination around 7:30 pm. My elder sister, who has been pushing me to find a job by submitting my resume online, urged me as I closed the gate behind me to go and visit an internet cafe instead of going somewhere else. With her wish on my mind, I planned to stay at the moviehouse for only about two hours and head back home for my internet visit.

But inside the moviehouse, I saw this hot old man (whom I shall call Hottie in this entry) who ruined my plan for the night. Hottie was seated beside another man who I recognized to be a habitue of the place and who was initiating the action between them. I stayed around their seats, constantly walking about to check on the action. But I was too careful not to get their attention. In fact, I didn't choose to get a seat near them and observe the action closely for I might turn them off and, consequently, they might stop what they were doing. Hottie was visibly affected by the people who walked closely by them, constantly checking them whenever they got near. But I observed that whenever I walked by them, his eyes would follow me even though I had walked a little way too past them. He didn't do this when some other guy walked by them.

He seemed to be not very much into the action, constantly moving his head as his attention got drawn by people passing by. Discouraged by this for I knew that he wouldn't come, I decided to look for another pair or group making out to satisfy the voyeur in me. I lingered at the entrance before I decided to go to the rest room to check if there was some action there. On my way there, I bumped into the partner of Hottie and he seemed to be making his way to the exit. I proceeded to my destination and inside it, occupying the farthest urinal from the door was Hottie taking a leak. He was looking at me and a smile seemed to form in his lips. I fixed my gaze in the direction of his member, but he made no move to show it to me. He just smiled, a long and knowing smile, which made me wonder if we had met before or if I knew him. I smiled back, but averted my eyes from him, searching my memory if we'd met before. I could not find anything. I looked at him again. He was still looking at me, but he had already zipped up and was walking towards the door. He didn't go out, just stood at the entrance, puffing a cigarette.

I didn't make a move but lingered around the rest room, sensing that I could find myself in some action with him. There were two other people hanging out inside the rest room so I made no move. When it looked like the other two people had no intention of leaving the two of us all alone, I went out and walked around the orchestra section.

"I will have my time alone with you before long, " I muttered to myself as I made my first step out.

I must confess that when I saw him under the brigh light of the rest room, I got a little discouraged. He seemed to be older than what I thought him to be. I wondered, "Would he be able to get it to rise for me?"

And as I closed the door of the rest room behind me, I wondered, "Would his old body emit the foul odor (amoy lupa) associated with very old persons?" "Does he have bad breath?" I had low tolerance for halitosis so I lowered my expectations. Perhaps, he's not a catch, after all. And I continued walking around again, looking for another hottie.

Twice, we saw each other again, at the main entrance of the orchestra section where he had taken a position along with other older men. I would pass by him to open the door and look outside. Both times, he moved his head to catch my attention and smiled at me. I just smiled back but made no move to start a conversation with him. And I would begin walking around again.

But our paths crossed again. I was on my way out from the rest room and when I opened the door, he was there in front of me, about to come in. But he didn't step inside. He just stood there, waiting for me to make a move. I decided to walk past him. But when some part of my body brushed against his as I walked by him, some kind of electricity surged through me. The ice was broken. And I found myself speaking to him.

Our talk led us to the first two seats on the second row from the rest room. Here we conversed long and deep, trying to accelerate the getting-to-know-you phase that every relationship must go through. While at this, I explored his body and suceeded in having him come once(despite my apprehension, he, being 70 years old, after all).

I liked everything about him. The way he talked, the way he carried himself (he's a neat dresser), the manliness about him, the story of his life (married with three children). He seemed to be a perfect candidate for the partner I'd been looking for all these years. The idea of him and me being lovers thrilled me.

He promised to be back next week from Naga.

And now, I'm beginning to count the days...

Blogging and Rebirth

to hone my writing skills

to chronicle my explorations of the gay universe

to have an outlet for my pent-up emotions

to develop an identity

to find my voice

to make peace with myself

That's why I am blogging now.

And I am reborn.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!