Thursday, September 20, 2007

Remembering Allen - The First Act

You can't say that Allen is a typical gay guy. He doesn't have gay friends. He feels uncomfortable being around flamboyant gays. He doesn't understand gayspeak. He feels terrible when men kiss in front of him. He is as discreet as a corrupt politician trying to hide his questionable wealth.

Allen is in his mid 30's. He realized he's gay only about three years ago, after his wife caught him getting cozy with their neighbor [She eventually divorced him.] Though his divorce was obviously a sign of his much-awaited prison break from the closeted gay guy's world, he preferred to keep everything a secret, meeting guys through online dating sites and messengers and several chatrooms, inviting them to his place or somewhere private like a motel or hotel, just to fulfill his desires and need to be with a man.

On a rainy, Wednesday afternoon, he picked up a guy in a restroom in a cheap mall. Introductions were done, numbers were exchanged. But Allen didn't think he would let this one pass. He invited the guy to a motel. The guy gave him a price, saying he doesn't have sex with guys without anything in return. The guy, whose name was Lito, apologized for giving his straightforward proposal, saying he needed the money and he doesn't care how to get it.

Allen seemed to have admired the honesty of Lito. So after fifteen minutes of flirting, inquiring about sizes and sharing perversions, he decided to leave with Lito, in his 2006 BMX X3 SUV. He felt comfortable with Lito since he is also very discreet. One couldn't say they were about to have sex that day. Together, you would think they're just friends or colleagues.

They went into a motel in Pasig ,which boasts a feature other motels do not have: sound-proof walls. Allen instantly thought of all his fantasies coming to life. He was ecstatic. He just couldn't wait.

Funny thing, they were in room 169, a number Allen really loved because it reminds him of his favorite sexual position. Upon arriving, Lito quickly took off his clothes, starting with his shirt. As he was about to take off his boxers, Allen said 'Leave those.' And so he did.

It was quite evident that Lito is not a male prostitute. He kept looking around like he's never been to a motel. And as he licked his right nipple, enjoying the tender, pinkish areola until it hardens a bit, he felt his heart beat faster by the minute.

'A bit.'
'So you really don't do this very often.'
He nodded.
'Me neither.'

For a while, it helped Lito to calm down. But it wasn't long before his heartbeat raced again, this time due to sheer excitement caused by Allen's tongue toying with the shaft of his hard dick. He licked both nipples, his washboard abs, every muscle, as if tracing each meandering course of the river of muscles. He looked at him to see his reaction. He seemed like he was enjoying it. He went for his cock, which surprisingly was long, hard and uncut.

He quickly maneuvered his tongue to give Lito the kind of pleasure he would never forget. He suddenly yelled, 'I'm coming! I'm coming!' Allen stopped him, saying it was too soon.

It was only then that he took off his briefs and bent over.

'I don't fuck.'
'Yes you do.'
'I don't. Really.'

He believed him. He tried to bribe him by offering more money but he looked scared and tired. Maybe he didn't really want to be here. Not in this motel room. Not with me. Not with any other man. He finished him off with a hand job. He gave him what was promised and more as a tip. He kept his number. Allen wasn't sure Lito saved his.

He requested that Allen drop him off a gas station near his place. He drove to a place there was an unknown gas station at the street. He wasn't even sure if the gas station was still open or not. He stopped and said goodbye to the young man. But he still didn't leave. He stayed for two minutes.

'I'm sorry I didn't fuck you back there.'
'That's okay. I totally understand.'
'You gave me a lot of money, I think you deserve it.'
'No, it's okay. YOU deserved it.'
'Listen, my folks are not at home and my room's in the old garage. We can stay and I can fuck you there.'
'Where to?'

'He turned left. Then right. Turned right again. Another right turn. Then left, until they reached a dead end. Allen pointed to a old, dark house with a big garage to his right.

'So, this is where you'll fuck me all night?'

Lito didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a knife and pointed it at him.

'Give me your wallet.'
'Hey calm down. I gave--'
'Give me your fucking wallet you faggot!'
'Hey easy man! I will if you...'

He pulled out his wallet and threw it at him.

'I'm sorry man. I really am. I'm not gay. I'm not your guy.'

He got off the car and walked right away. Allen was still stunned. He was still trying to understand what just happened. He looked as the mirror and he could still see him walking, counting the money he found in his wallet.

He turned the car around and stopped. He wondered why Lito has done this to him, the sweet innocent man.

He watched as he slowly walked away. He was surprised he didn't run or call a cab right away. He was just walking. And as he threw Allen's wallet away, he was infuriated. He stepped on the gas and looked straight at Lito's beautiful ass.

'Why me you prick?' He asked.


  1. because he just realized that the allen was very discreet and very particular with his secret.
    lito knew that allen won't report it to the police because of the fear of everybody knowing that he is gay. kaya pa simple walk lang xa. confident that allen won't do anything.
    kawawa man.

  2. hey, this story sounds familiar and very generic... parang nabasa ko na somewhere but with some variations.... :)

    Em glad no men in uniform were involved!

  3. @chase and josh: thanks for visiting once again. i'll post the second part shortly to explain further

  4. The typos didn't help but this is one good narration. Josh is right, very generic. It happened to a few number of gays in the whole world of male prostitution. That's one risk in dealing with male prostitutes though not rampant. But some even died. If u know the Italian poet Pier Paolo Pasolini, his death is one close example.

  5. whatever basta the story is great!