Old Habits Sleep Don't Die
I did something last night which I haven't done in a long while. I got paid for sex. I don't know how I feel about it. Maybe if I write it down, I'd know.
I told my friend Codename Ryan, I feel like I broke a vow of chastity. He said, Anong vow of chastity? Nakakain ba yon? O pinapahid sa buhok?
I was sitting by the railings of the third level of this mall, or maybe it was the fourth level, trying to amuse myself with sights of not-even-cute dudes, wondering which ones could be callboys, not really knowing because I don't frequent the place much. A clean-cut looking guy in a clean polo shirt and glasses walked towards me. He was checking me out as he got closer. There was a controlled excitement in the way he walked, like a programmed robot eager to perform its task, but a robot that tried to hide its agenda. Then he got near and I caught his eyes, then he suddenly swerved to the side, like, hello stopover.
His eyebrows went up and down, twice, in seductive fashion, while he looked down at me behind his glasses. I didn't know what in hell it meant. I thought he could be the trippin' kind, you know, gay guy looking to exchange free fun with a fellow gay guy. He looked like he was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. But I could also somewhat smell that he could be the payin' kind too. I wasn't really in the mood for either, so what followed was a long mating ritual I thought I could ignore.
He was mouthing something, and I was mouthing back, Ano? I tried to do it in a nice but gruff manner, if I was even capable. When he thought I got the message, he walked away thinking I would follow. I stayed there. Later he'd come back, always about five feet away from me. I moved somewhere nearby where there were less people around, so he could follow and maybe I could hear straight from his mouth what he wanted. But he followed only until about five feet away. I guess I got won over by the tango because I found myself curious and begging for an answer to the mystery of this guy. I moved right beside him, nudged him on the shoulder, and I asked something or another. I don't remember. Maybe it was a "Baket?" or maybe it was a "Musta?" and whatever it was, I must've meant both at the same time.
He invited me to his car. I said, "Anong gagawin natin don?" He said, "Mag-uusap."
I said, "Saan ka nakaparada?" Which was the wrong question to ask. I realized how rusty I've become with this shit. I was kind of nervous because I didn't know where this was going. I was also thinking how he could fit the profile of a serial killer. Or someone who loves homo sex but also hates the homos, enough to rape them then discard the leftovers. I also thought he could steal me away in his car, bring me somewhere to abuse me, maybe with a bunch of his friends, but hmm, in hindsight, that kind of seems exciting too, but not really. Maybe I was thinking this because he seemed serious, almost angry, definitely not smiling, but looking back at in now, he was probably just nervous, or paranoid about other people watching us.
As an answer to my question, he simply walked away, presumably towards the parking area. I felt compelled to follow. As I walked behind him, I was thinking how cats get killed by curiosity. I also felt like a shift was happening inside me, like I needed to prepare for something I haven't done in a while. Like I needed to be on my toes.
When I saw that we were walking towards a black car, I thought, why did I have a feeling it would be a black car? He got into the driver's seat. Instead of going straight to the passengers seat, I went around to his side, to ask him the question I should've asked. "Ano ba pag-uusapan natin?"
He was smiling this time. He said, "Babayaran naman kita eh."
I quickly walked around to the passenger's seat, and I remember making a mental note that that's that.
I got into the car. He drove around the carpark looking for a better spot. I asked him, "Magkano ba babayad mo saken?" He said, such and such is the amount they pay here. As if he knew I wasn't familiar with the territory. I thought maybe he goes there a lot, so he can tell a new face when he sees one. I didn't even negotiate, rusty old me. I felt, I knew, I could ask for more, but I saved myself the trouble by telling myself pwede na yon. I myself won't make a first offer like that to a callboy. I was thinking if my current financial situation played a factor in why I got to that situation. But if it really did, then I would've asked for more.
He finally parked the car, and I must say it's the perfect spot he picked. No one would catch us there. He grabbed my leg, rubbed near the underside. Then he reached over to my side, and pulled the recliner. I was suddenly lying down, suddenly vulnerable.
He unbuckled my belt, pulled my pants down, left me in my white briefs. He caressed it for a while. I wasn't looking at him, I don't know why. Maybe I was already playing a role. Damn this method acting. Maybe I wasn't looking at him because maybe I was portraying a dislike for this gay sex business but also surrendering to it.
He pulled my underwear down to expose my semi, limping obscenely to one side. Then he unzipped himself, and maybe he pulled his pants down, I really didn't see.
He was a pretty good cocksucker. I was hard as a rock, easy as a roll. He liked deep-throating. He also liked gripping the shaft with two hands, one on top of the other. I think he wanted to measure with his hands how thick it was or how long. He brushed the pubes away slightly, held it up, then stared at it from afar.
He pulled my shirt up to lick my nipple. One hand fondled my cock, while the other made its way to one of my armpits, the one farther from him. His fingers slid inside the shirt to play with my armpit hairs. I don't remember if he was eating my nipple as he did this or if he was sucking my cock. He would return to the armpit twice. I could tell he was a guy who knew exactly what he wanted, and he just did what pleased him.
He instructed me to thrust my hips up and down while my cock was in his mouth. I did it slowly, in long upward slides. I adjusted my legs so that I could put my weight on my feet, to fuck his face good. His wet mouth felt like an awesome pleasure toy.
Then he asked me to lick his nipple. I complained. He said, sige na. Actually I was willing. I just felt like I should portray my role well. I wanted to give him maximum enjoyment by being this kind of dude I was at that moment.
He asked me to jerk him off too, and I did. Then he would do me again. Then he would ask me to do him again.
I was licking his nipple and jerking him off when he shot his load. He gave me a towel with which to wipe my sticky hands.
Then he went at my cock again. He seemed to be admiring it in his hands when he said, "Ang sarap," just before diving back in.
Then he started stroking it up and down at just a sweet smooth spot and speed. He asked me, "Malapit ka na?" I said yeah.
Then I asked him to stop. I said I didn't want to come anymore. I really took this career callboy shit to heart. Like I needed to save my load for the next one or something. He seemed like he could be happy either way anyway. He was smiling when he said "Okay lang."
In fact, I liked his smile. He was a nice guy. I wiped my sloppy dick with my handkerchief, and I was already almost regretting not finishing off. He did work on that cock pretty good.
When I got dressed, I felt like I wanted to hug the guy and kiss him. But I didn't. He gave me a crisp paper bill from his wallet, and I put it in my pocket. He asked me kung mauulit. I said sige. He asked for my number. I gave it to him, telling myself I liked him enough.
He asked me if I was going back into the mall or if he should drive me somewhere. I said I'll walk back to the mall. I got out of the car, then told him, Miss-call mo ko, so I would know it's him when he calls or texts, if he does. I really wanted to at least touch him in the shoulder or leg, but I didn't.
I got back into the mall and realized how all of that took just very little of my time. I felt like I could do it again, find another guy, then maybe get off this time. But I decided to leave the place.
In the hours that followed, I would be in a state of confused giddiness. I wanted to cry, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to shake my head, I wanted to masturbate, I wanted to fall in love. I felt young, I felt old, I felt goodlooking, I felt fake. I felt like I was feeling love but it wasn't in my hands. I wanted to dream, I wanted to fly, I wanted to stop time so I can breathe, I wanted the night to last forever. I wanted to tell somebody. I wanted to take a shower. I wanted to scrub myself. I wanted to lie in bed. I wanted to hug myself and kiss myself and fuck myself. Why did I do it again? But also, Why not?
I told my friend Codename Ryan, I feel like I broke a vow of chastity. He said, Anong vow of chastity? Nakakain ba yon? O pinapahid sa buhok?
I was sitting by the railings of the third level of this mall, or maybe it was the fourth level, trying to amuse myself with sights of not-even-cute dudes, wondering which ones could be callboys, not really knowing because I don't frequent the place much. A clean-cut looking guy in a clean polo shirt and glasses walked towards me. He was checking me out as he got closer. There was a controlled excitement in the way he walked, like a programmed robot eager to perform its task, but a robot that tried to hide its agenda. Then he got near and I caught his eyes, then he suddenly swerved to the side, like, hello stopover.
His eyebrows went up and down, twice, in seductive fashion, while he looked down at me behind his glasses. I didn't know what in hell it meant. I thought he could be the trippin' kind, you know, gay guy looking to exchange free fun with a fellow gay guy. He looked like he was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. But I could also somewhat smell that he could be the payin' kind too. I wasn't really in the mood for either, so what followed was a long mating ritual I thought I could ignore.
He was mouthing something, and I was mouthing back, Ano? I tried to do it in a nice but gruff manner, if I was even capable. When he thought I got the message, he walked away thinking I would follow. I stayed there. Later he'd come back, always about five feet away from me. I moved somewhere nearby where there were less people around, so he could follow and maybe I could hear straight from his mouth what he wanted. But he followed only until about five feet away. I guess I got won over by the tango because I found myself curious and begging for an answer to the mystery of this guy. I moved right beside him, nudged him on the shoulder, and I asked something or another. I don't remember. Maybe it was a "Baket?" or maybe it was a "Musta?" and whatever it was, I must've meant both at the same time.
He invited me to his car. I said, "Anong gagawin natin don?" He said, "Mag-uusap."
I said, "Saan ka nakaparada?" Which was the wrong question to ask. I realized how rusty I've become with this shit. I was kind of nervous because I didn't know where this was going. I was also thinking how he could fit the profile of a serial killer. Or someone who loves homo sex but also hates the homos, enough to rape them then discard the leftovers. I also thought he could steal me away in his car, bring me somewhere to abuse me, maybe with a bunch of his friends, but hmm, in hindsight, that kind of seems exciting too, but not really. Maybe I was thinking this because he seemed serious, almost angry, definitely not smiling, but looking back at in now, he was probably just nervous, or paranoid about other people watching us.
As an answer to my question, he simply walked away, presumably towards the parking area. I felt compelled to follow. As I walked behind him, I was thinking how cats get killed by curiosity. I also felt like a shift was happening inside me, like I needed to prepare for something I haven't done in a while. Like I needed to be on my toes.
When I saw that we were walking towards a black car, I thought, why did I have a feeling it would be a black car? He got into the driver's seat. Instead of going straight to the passengers seat, I went around to his side, to ask him the question I should've asked. "Ano ba pag-uusapan natin?"
He was smiling this time. He said, "Babayaran naman kita eh."
I quickly walked around to the passenger's seat, and I remember making a mental note that that's that.
I got into the car. He drove around the carpark looking for a better spot. I asked him, "Magkano ba babayad mo saken?" He said, such and such is the amount they pay here. As if he knew I wasn't familiar with the territory. I thought maybe he goes there a lot, so he can tell a new face when he sees one. I didn't even negotiate, rusty old me. I felt, I knew, I could ask for more, but I saved myself the trouble by telling myself pwede na yon. I myself won't make a first offer like that to a callboy. I was thinking if my current financial situation played a factor in why I got to that situation. But if it really did, then I would've asked for more.
He finally parked the car, and I must say it's the perfect spot he picked. No one would catch us there. He grabbed my leg, rubbed near the underside. Then he reached over to my side, and pulled the recliner. I was suddenly lying down, suddenly vulnerable.
He unbuckled my belt, pulled my pants down, left me in my white briefs. He caressed it for a while. I wasn't looking at him, I don't know why. Maybe I was already playing a role. Damn this method acting. Maybe I wasn't looking at him because maybe I was portraying a dislike for this gay sex business but also surrendering to it.
He pulled my underwear down to expose my semi, limping obscenely to one side. Then he unzipped himself, and maybe he pulled his pants down, I really didn't see.
He was a pretty good cocksucker. I was hard as a rock, easy as a roll. He liked deep-throating. He also liked gripping the shaft with two hands, one on top of the other. I think he wanted to measure with his hands how thick it was or how long. He brushed the pubes away slightly, held it up, then stared at it from afar.
He pulled my shirt up to lick my nipple. One hand fondled my cock, while the other made its way to one of my armpits, the one farther from him. His fingers slid inside the shirt to play with my armpit hairs. I don't remember if he was eating my nipple as he did this or if he was sucking my cock. He would return to the armpit twice. I could tell he was a guy who knew exactly what he wanted, and he just did what pleased him.
He instructed me to thrust my hips up and down while my cock was in his mouth. I did it slowly, in long upward slides. I adjusted my legs so that I could put my weight on my feet, to fuck his face good. His wet mouth felt like an awesome pleasure toy.
Then he asked me to lick his nipple. I complained. He said, sige na. Actually I was willing. I just felt like I should portray my role well. I wanted to give him maximum enjoyment by being this kind of dude I was at that moment.
He asked me to jerk him off too, and I did. Then he would do me again. Then he would ask me to do him again.
I was licking his nipple and jerking him off when he shot his load. He gave me a towel with which to wipe my sticky hands.
Then he went at my cock again. He seemed to be admiring it in his hands when he said, "Ang sarap," just before diving back in.
Then he started stroking it up and down at just a sweet smooth spot and speed. He asked me, "Malapit ka na?" I said yeah.
Then I asked him to stop. I said I didn't want to come anymore. I really took this career callboy shit to heart. Like I needed to save my load for the next one or something. He seemed like he could be happy either way anyway. He was smiling when he said "Okay lang."
In fact, I liked his smile. He was a nice guy. I wiped my sloppy dick with my handkerchief, and I was already almost regretting not finishing off. He did work on that cock pretty good.
When I got dressed, I felt like I wanted to hug the guy and kiss him. But I didn't. He gave me a crisp paper bill from his wallet, and I put it in my pocket. He asked me kung mauulit. I said sige. He asked for my number. I gave it to him, telling myself I liked him enough.
He asked me if I was going back into the mall or if he should drive me somewhere. I said I'll walk back to the mall. I got out of the car, then told him, Miss-call mo ko, so I would know it's him when he calls or texts, if he does. I really wanted to at least touch him in the shoulder or leg, but I didn't.
I got back into the mall and realized how all of that took just very little of my time. I felt like I could do it again, find another guy, then maybe get off this time. But I decided to leave the place.
In the hours that followed, I would be in a state of confused giddiness. I wanted to cry, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to shake my head, I wanted to masturbate, I wanted to fall in love. I felt young, I felt old, I felt goodlooking, I felt fake. I felt like I was feeling love but it wasn't in my hands. I wanted to dream, I wanted to fly, I wanted to stop time so I can breathe, I wanted the night to last forever. I wanted to tell somebody. I wanted to take a shower. I wanted to scrub myself. I wanted to lie in bed. I wanted to hug myself and kiss myself and fuck myself. Why did I do it again? But also, Why not?