All About Chemistry

His name was Enzo. Or at least, that was what he told me. And for twelve hours, he was mine.

We met in a threesome; hours on hours of sex. Then the third guy had to leave early and we were left alone in the motel room. I was wary of him at first, aware that he was far more experienced at this than I was. I knew that he could effortlessly pull my strings with his charms. But I took a chance anyway. He was a challenge, a mystery that I wanted to figure out.

Our time in the motel room ran out and we had to leave. We were supposed to go our separate ways, until I happened to mention something that got us back in our groove: breakfast.

“I’m not wearing my contacts right now, okay? So help me with the menu,” I whispered to him as we approached the fastfood counter.

“Okay, what do you want?” he asked.

“Well, obviously I want you,” I answered. I turned to look at the cashier and saw that she was smiling. I asked, “Do you have anything that tastes as good as him?”

“Ang kulit mo!” Enzo laughed as he pretended to punch me.

We spent the next hour laughing at each other’s jokes, listening to each other’s stories and blushing at each other’s compliments. I learned that he used to be the manager of a high-end restaurant, that he lost almost everything he worked for after making some bad decisions, and that he was now doing his best to get back on his feet. He told me about how he lost all his friends when he was at his lowest, and about how he met a guy who stuck with him and helped him rise back up. I was listening to his every word, clinging to them like a child listening to a fairy tale.

When he suggested that we have a second round of our sexcapade, I readily agreed. We went to a different motel. We rented a room, dropped our bags and rested a bit. Then we went back out to buy some stuff that we needed.

“How much lube do we need?” he asked, crouching down to the bottom shelf with the condoms and lubes.

“I dunno. Eight? Just so we’re sure,” I answered, kneeling beside him and counting out the small blue packets.

Then he tugged at my sleeve and motioned around us. People were looking, of course, some out of disgust and others out of interest. We just laughed and went to get the other stuff we needed. Condoms, water, energy drinks, some biscuits – it was a strange grocery list.

We were on our way back to the motel when we passed by some street food. I slowed down and looked longingly at the kwek-kwek and isaw displayed on those shabby carts.

“Aw, gutom pa ang baby,” he laughed. Then he bought a couple of everything and we ate them all by the sidewalk. He looked really cute as he wolfed down his kwek-kwek and kikiam. I remembered when I saw him for the first time and thought that he was too high-end even for Jollibee. Apparently, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

We went back to our room and shared a few more kulitan moments as we showered and prepared our stuff. He gave me tips on what to do later, and on my trysts after ours. He’s a pro indeed, I realized, and I wondered if I could keep up with him.

Then we were back up in the clouds, soaring and piercing through the sky. I lusted for him like I have never lusted for any other man. His body fit perfectly with mine. He was my fantasy and he was all mine for the taking. Hours passed and yet we were still exploring, devouring each other’s bodies. We rose higher and higher until we reached the peak together.

We lay spent on the bed, hands held. I watched him as our breathing started to slow down. I got really lucky with this one, I thought to myself. Then all too soon, he pulled his hand from mine and started texting.

“Galit na siya sa akin. I have to leave soon,” he said.

“Your mom?” I asked.

“My boyfriend.”

His words pinched at my heart. Of course I knew that he was going home to someone else. I just didn’t think it would come crashing down that soon and that fast. I realized that at the back of my mind, I was wishing that he and I would have more breakfasts together, go to the grocery store with a list that didn’t include condoms and lubes, spend another afternoon being silly at the street food carts, and then go home at the end of the day with our hands held.

Ang tanga ko lang. I’m still just a rookie after all, and I made the mistake of trying to keep up with a pro. I should have known that at the end of the day, the only things I’ll be going home with are empty tubes and bruised arms.

Love, sex and relationships, they’re all about chemistry. A chemistry that is built up and nurtured over time has the capacity of sustaining a connection for a long time. But when it’s rushed and forced into you, it fades just as fast as it comes.

“Let’s go,” he said after we finished packing up. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? Can you go home alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I smiled.

“Okay. Til next time,” he said. He kissed me on the lips and then went out the door.

Orgy Thoughts

For me, the most interesting part of an orgy is the meet-up, when I get to see the guys while they still have their clothes on.

There are five of us and we are waiting for one more. The meeting place is the sidewalk of a street bustling with life from the evening rush hour. Everyone is either texting or fiddling with their phones or otherwise trying to look occupied, but they are all stealing glances at the others.

I couldn't help grinning. This is the part where we size each other up, guess which ones are tops, which ones are bottoms, and which tops will end up being bottoms. The guys start selecting their targets, the ones they'd really like to fuck or get fucked by.

I look around and survey the others.

First guy is John. He is well-built and has a bad boy aura about him. He is leaning on his motorcycle, busily texting someone. He tells us after a while that it's his girlfriend that he's texting, that they had a big fight and that he's joining in to let out his steam. Obviously, he's looking to play top tonight. He'll probably just lie down and expect everyone else to pleasure him, banking on his supposed masculinity. I don't think he and I will be having much interaction.

Standing a few feet away are two small guys, Jeff and Marky. They've been talking to each other the whole time, so they probably know each other already. Every now and then they whisper and laugh, then look around like they've been caught. Then Jeff would glance at John and Marky would try to catch my eye. Power bottoms, I'd say, and they've already chosen their targets. They'll most likely pounce on us the first chance they get.

Then there's EJ, tall and lanky, with a smile built for toothpaste commercials. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but it's easy to see that he has just the right muscle definition to my liking. He shifts from one leg to the other, and in that simple movement displays a tamed grace that draws me. Too bad, he looks like a top. I would love to fuck him.

After a while, the last one arrives. His name is Dexter. He looks straight but you can just tell right away that he isn't. Everything about him screams bottom. He's cute but he has an air of arrogance about him, and I'm not really in the mood to deal with misplaced arrogance tonight. I make a mental note to stay away from him.

Dexter goes into a motel, books a room and texts us all the room number. One by one, we follow, everyone emphasizing that we should leave at least five-minute intervals between us. I arrive last. Then everyone starts stripping. It's about to start.

Marky is on me even before I finish taking off my pants. He sucks well. I look around and see that Jeff has already started working on John. John was lying down, hands under his head, while his body was being caressed and licked all over by Jeff.

So I got John, Jeff and Marky right.

I hear a deep moan and turn to look. It was EJ, on all fours, his face ecstatic as he was being fucked by Dexter. Dexter picks up his pace and EJ moans harder. I did not expect this at all. The apparent bottom is fucking the apparent top. I am still trying to get over my slight shock when Dexter flips EJ over and drills hard, and the room is filled with EJ's delirious moans.

This has instant an effect on all of us. Within seconds, what little clothing we still have on are thrown to the floor. I see Marky's dick for the first time. It's huge. I couldn't resist. I make him stand up and take my turn at sucking him.

I feel someone's mouth on me. It was Jeff's. I turn to find John and see him trying to jack off. Apparently, he can't get his dick hard. He mumbles something about fucking his girlfriend before coming to the orgy, which is why he can't get it up. I tell Jeff and Marky to work on John together while I watch. Then John pulls me in and makes me face-fuck him.

I pull away and move towards Dexter and EJ, who are now on what seems to be their tenth position already. I stand up and hold my dick to Dexter's mouth but he just smiles and shakes his head. I move in front of EJ instead, and he readily takes me in his mouth. His tongue flicks and twirls like wildfire as Dexter thrusts deep into him. He is in a frenzy.

Dexter pulls out and motions me to take over. EJ looks at me with hungry, almost pleading eyes. I go behind him and ram him hard and deep. He cries out and begs for more and I give it to him. I hear someone else moaning and see that Dexter has already started fucking Marky. I watch him and wow, that guy really knows what he's doing.

On the edge of the bed, I see Jeff on his back while John sucks him off. Apparently, John has already given up trying to get himself hard. That's probably wisest, since he has already spent too long on his failed attempts.

A few more positions and swaps and we're all done. We say goodbye and leave the room one by one. It was an interesting group. A lot of my guesses were incorrect. It just reinforces my claim that I'm still inexperienced at this. Or maybe it just means that I'm really bad at reading people. Oh well, I'll just see next time.

Sharing My Guy

I don't like sharing my guy. That's the reason why I've never been a fan of open relationships or even casual dating. I make sure that I have my guy locked down. Or so I used to. These past few months, I've been having a bit of a paradigm shift.

It started when I dated Kent, a guy who part-timed as a masseur. When we got to the point where we were already discussing the details of a possible relationship, I asked it to be open, more for the heck of it really than anything else. I've never tried an open relationship before and, given Kent's line of work, I was pretty sure he'd agree, and he did.

The relationship felt a bit strange to me. We were a couple and yet there he was, sleeping with other guys for money, and there I was, sleeping with other guys for fun. At the start, I felt a tiny bite of jealousy every time he told me that he was off to service a client, but I started to get used to it as the weeks passed.

So this is what it feels like to share your guy with others, I thought.

It wasn't that bad after all. That thing that I used to hear from other people about being confident that your guy will go home to you at the end of the day, I began to understand it. I was sure that Kent was still mine no matter how many “extra service” sessions he gave, and that was enough assurance for me. That was probably how Kent felt too, at least until I started showing signs of disinterest.

The sharing thing turned out to be more difficult when I experienced being the other guy. This happened when I started seeing Adam, who has a boyfriend of seven or eight years. I knew that there was no hope of me ever gaining enough worth to beat those years, but I jumped into the pseudo-relationship anyway.

My relationship with Adam was the opposite of what I had with Kent. This time, I knew that after every movie and dinner date, every night we spent cradled in each other's arms, every goodbye kiss after a great conversation over drinks, he would still go home to his partner.

In spite of my full understanding of our setup, however, there were still moments when I started to demand more. I remember walking out on him once, drunk and pissed off, when he said that he wouldn't leave his partner for me. As I scrambled into a taxi, he texted me that I was being unfair, that I knew perfectly well the limits of our relationship even before we decided to have it. Of course, I didn't have enough mental coherence to read it right then, but I realized that he was right the next morning. He was my guy, yes, but only for as long as he was at my side. Asking more that what he could offer was indeed unfair. Since then, I demanded only for my share, enjoyed it, and then stood by for my next turn.

It was during one of those standby-for-Adam periods that I met Brad. We met and went out for drinks, spent the next few hours downing bottle after bottle of beer, laughing and teasing, and stole a minute-long kiss before leaving. He was cute and he definitely knew how to work his charm. Apparently, my charm worked on him too because we continued going out after that.

There's one reason Brad and I aren't an official couple: we're both not ready yet. That's to say we're both still messing with other guys. There's one other guy he's dating concurrently with me. And I still can't let go of Adam completely. That's on top of each other's random hookups. We like each other a lot, but I know that jumping into a relationship right now would only screw us both. I know he does too.

I still find it strange. Just months ago, I probably couldn't even imagine myself sharing my guy, yet here I am now, even looking for someone to join us in a three-way. But I enjoy what Brad and I have right now: dates whenever our schedules allow, sweet messages in text or BBM, phone calls when one misses the other, and the occasional but nevertheless amazing sex. He could be having those with other guys too, but I don't mind. I should, but I don't. Maybe it's best to stop over-analyzing this and just go be happy with it.

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Believing Like A Boy

I remember when it was still so easy for me to trust my heart. I miss those days.

Last Sunday, I listened to an eighteen-year-old boy tell me how he was falling for a guy he just met. In the past year, he’s had seven relationships, all of which ended when the other guys have had their way with him. He was broken-hearted after each one, particularly after realizing that those men he entrusted his heart to were really only after sex. And yet there he was once again, all giddy while he was telling me about how sweet and smart and kind this new guy was. He did not care that they met only a few days before. All that mattered was that his heart was once again skipping beats whenever he heard that guy say his name. And I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes glimmered with hope that this guy might finally be the one he’s been waiting for.

I would normally just dismiss that boy’s feelings as just another impending heartache. He’s just a kid after all, naive and easily fooled by the empty promise of a happy ending. I, on the other hand, have several years’ worth of stories that can pop those stupid floating hearts. Life had repeatedly hammered into my head that love is not about butterflies and fireworks, but rather a contract that needs to be pinned onto the wall and reviewed every day that I wake up.

But there was something about the way that boy told his story that captivated me. The way his eyes sparkled, the way he couldn’t help smiling whenever he said his guy’s name, and the way his voice was laced with hope were just too beautiful for me to turn my eyes from.

“He makes me happy. That’s the only thing that should matter, right?” the boy asked me at one point.

“Do you think that’s enough?” I asked, throwing the question back.

“I think so. Yeah, for me it is. I know that I don’t really know much about him but it just feels right. I should be scared. I should be cautious. But the more I think about it, the more I feel that it’s okay. Falling for him is not such a scary thing after all.”

“I see. So you’re sure that there’s nothing to be worried about,” I said.

“Yeah. It’s never been in my nature to hold back when it comes to these things. I give it everything I have. That’s the only way I can do it,” he said in that determined voice.

That was when it became clear to me: that boy is exactly how I used to be. What he said basically summed up how I’ve been handling my relationships up until last year. I jumped at every opportunity to fall in love and start the walk down the road to ever after.

But I eventually stopped being that boy. I kept stumbling onto dead ends until finally I just gave up. Quota na ako, as I once put it. I gave up on the idea of a magical love story and accepted that everything is fleeting. No one else was up for a lifetime of love, it seemed. People who looked for relationships were in fact only after a constant backup fuck-buddy or a safety net from a life of solitude when they grow old. Or you’ll find one of those few people who’re also looking for a happily-ever-after, but then you find out that everything else about you two is a mismatch. The only way to be happy, it seemed, was to settle.

That’s why the boy’s story was so enchanting. The way he believed that he had finally found the one, it was like finding a part of me that I’ve lost. It was the part that had scarred my heart beyond recognition, that changed me to who I am now, but it was also the part that once made me believe in pure, innocent love. I know I’ve already dismissed that part as nothing more than a phase, a gateway to reality, but somehow, I still keep hoping that this unbelieving and calloused version of me is the phase, and that the Nishiboy who once believed in true love will turn out to be the reality.

But I’m afraid the boy will have to wait a little longer for his true love, because the guy he has fallen for this time is just like the ones before him. He will have to deal with heartbreak yet again, another scar that will never heal. I can only hope that he doesn’t give up on love just yet and that he doesn’t turn out to be someone like me, who treats love and relationship as a contract to be renewed, already too scared to entrust his heart to promises of forever.