A Porn Story

Do you still remember the first time you saw the light? That flashing light that makes the happy stick between your legs throb with excitement? Me. I do. I still recall the first time my hands laid claim to the glossies my parents kept when I was just a kid.

Here's my story.

I have an uncle on my mother's side who now lives abroad. His taste for "fine dining" was so exceptional, he got married thrice in 25 years. Those "amusing" marriages produced 9 broods - including an adopted child. Comparing his with 8 children spread across four families here in Manila, it's no wonder my uncle was hailed as the keeper of the family genes.

Going back to how I found the light, I used to hear my dad complain when uncle visits the country. "Yang Tito mo, iikutin na naman namin lahat ng club gabi-gabi para makakita ng babae." I was already in college then, and had my own collection of straight porn VCDs. During those days, I could not understand the reason behind my father's rants. He was well connected. He would not spend a single peso in their week-long escapades and the fact that he's the kingpin of smut newspapers save him a lot of stress scouting nightclubs my uncle sought to explore. Of course, his sisters - my aunts - had no idea what was going on. Maybe they tolerated it. After all, he alone carries my lolo's name.

When I was a little boy - the exact age when parents tell their children how kissing results to having babies - that's when I saw the light. It manifested itself in three glossies. I cannot recall what the front cover looked like, but it had scenes of lovemaking in every imaginable position. It's for my dad, my uncle said. Chronologies are blurry now, but that was the time I was still an only child and the pressures to make another one burdened my loving parents.

And so to make the glossies most accessible, they hid it behind stacks of papers in a shelf next to our bed. What they didn't know is that I learned their hiding place the very day they received the package.

Dad was busy with his leftist activities, (at a tender age of 25) while mom sold her soul to the universities to earn a living and support the family. I was left in the care of yayas most of the time, and since these yayas stayed in their room to listen to radio soap operas, I had the entire afternoon to satisfy my curiousity and peek as the wonders of creation unfolded right before my innocent eyes.


The pictures were in black and white. There was a man and a woman. Both naked. The man stood while the woman knelt and forced the entire length of the man's "birdie" inside her mouth. Another page, another picture. Photos still in monochrome. The woman laid on her back. The man on top of her. I cannot recall where the birdie was hidden, but I was fascinated how the woman's expression screamed of delight.

I wasn't aware for my thoughts were glued on the picture. But overhead, heads were peeking. The yayas witnessing how the light was corrupting my gullible senses. They were barely adults but their malicious minds ordered them that I should be disrupted.

"Anong tinitingnan mo diyan" One of the yayas shouted.

They forced the door open and claimed the light for themselves. They saw its contents and in between blushes, giggles and possible inner wetness, something strange played inside their heads. Their eyes revealed it. I was there on the side of the bed, forced to admit my immorality. All I knew were the couples playing in the pictures. Nothing more, nothing less. For them it was something forbidden.

Something only adults should know.

My parents arrived that night and learned what happened. I wasn't scolded nor violently reprimanded for they knew it was their carelessness that lead to my corruption. They never explained why those ladies kissed the guys on their lips, or why the birdies were stiff when the girls played with them. What I remember now are the words "bad" and "never again."



A few years later, I found more stashes of porn magazines stacked on a very high ledge in my dad's little corridor next to the bathroom. I browsed them, learned some fascinating words I now use to stir someones imagination and make his weenie grow big, and understood well the pleasures of the skin.

I knew how procreation works long before sex education was introduced in Grade Six.

Many years have passed. I was able to possess all my dad's graphic eroticas without his knowledge. (and still keeps now) I even watched the Adult VHS' he brought home from work when he's not around (I would just press replay after satisfying my urges back to the exact time frame where the action began to keep my tracks hidden) but true to my mother's word, they learned their lesson well.

I never found the glossies again.