The Hood Kid

For all the years I have engaged in hook-ups, only two things mattered - the distance of the place from my vicinity, and the manliness appeal of the guy I would pair with. There was no room for planning, nor the thought of prolonging the agony of waiting. In all the years I made a jump from one bed to another, I had hoped one thing would never happen. That is to stumble over someone whose home and location would not be too convenient and easy for us to repeat the deed over and over.

---

It was past 4 in the morning. The streets were drenched and empty. Light flickered above a lone post perched on the street corner a few steps away from home. I just came from a wake - the late president's wake which I queued on for hours. Walking towards the end of the line, I noticed that some eyes were staring at me. A Parlorista even tried to fish for my number, which I politely declined by saying that my "girlfriend" doesn't deal well with unknown numbers suddenly appearing on my phone.

Armed with confidence gained from others, even a slight provocation will send me pursuing my desirable target. That morning, while walking towards the crossing that would lead me to the other side of the main street - and into the waiting mattress of my bed, I caught glimpse of a guy leaning his body against a pillar of concrete. He seemed to be waiting for someone but when glances were exchanged, I knew he was in for a trip.

I ignored his challenge and instead, went inside a nearby fast-food joint to grab something to eat. I was dead tired from all the walking and entertaining someone just for the sheer fun of it would leave me totally exhausted when I wake up later that day.

Emerging from the restaurant thirty minutes later, I looked around to see if he was still there. No dark-skinned, toned guy wearing white tops and jerseys appeared in my field of vision. Someone must have tripped on him before I was able to make a move. Relieved that I was able to evade temptation, I walked towards my loft's direction to get some rest

- Only to spot him sitting on a bench outside a bakeshop; his dagger-like gaze stabbing back at me.

Getting hook-ups in public was never my cup of tea. I may possess the mastery in the art of flirting within the confines of a gay club, but I don't remember a guy introducing himself and leaving his number when I find myself inside the mall. However, it does not mean that my instincts have betrayed me. I knew what the lean guy was up to. His long, seductive whistles were an obvious give away. What was required is for me to respond and answer the call of his nature.

"Kanina ka pa?" He inquired. Upon closer inspection, I found him far, far younger than me.

"Hindi, kakauwi ko lang, galing ako sa lamay."

"Kanino?"

I showed the yellow armband still coiled around my biceps. He must have taken note of how big my arm was because I caught him smiling when I flexed it in front of him.

Needless to say, the small chat ended in a lustful encounter. The kid was so aggressive, he unbuttoned my pants, lowered my briefs and gave me a good head in the driveway. His impressive opening salvos compelled me not to leave both of us hanging. I whisked him inside my room and there he ravaged my pumped-up body. He did enjoy the act, especially when I told him to ride my disco stick. Orgasm was achieved with his plumpy lips deeply consummating mine.

---

Lust overpowered me that morning. It hindered my capacity to think and act appropriate to those of my age. After the fun was over, I realized the trouble I might face. The kid lives across the driveway, his door leads to mine and at anytime he decides to expose our shit, his phone will reveal the evidence of our affair.

Formal ties were established a day later. I was hoping that he would see the act as a one-shot deal. Unfortunately, the kid developed a sort of kinship. His text messages began to include inquiries about my romantic status and fillers expressing some deep longings. I knew where it was heading and listening to my own conscience, I brushed his advances by telling him that I was already taken.

The conversations continued, and when we both found ourselves lying in bed while texting each other, my junior gets stiffer for no reason at all. Then I realized, for all the years I slept with strangers, I was secretly hoping to meet someone who lives in my neighborhood. It doesn't matter if we end up being together, because what was essential is for that person to answer to my need.

With the kid, it wasn't the case. His sudden presence made me learn how insignificant empty orgasms were and how connections profoundly puts value to the word pleasure.

It's like masturbating for five minutes only to forget everything when sobriety is restored.

Despite these epiphanies, we did it again a week after our first encounter. I made him suck my pole in my own living room under the cloak of darkness. There were a couple of early mornings - days later - when I waited for him to text back after sending a last minute "invitation." The only reply I got was to say hello to a bleak sunrise with a woozy head and a throbbing boner to keep me at work. As for him, my only guess is that he returned to his nocturnal expeditions when my prick is not available.

---

The kid kept on bugging me early in the morning asking if I was still up. There were times, I merely ignored his messages - especially when utol was around. The near misses would have went forth, if I've not decided to draw the line early this week.

Bzzzzzzttt... Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt... Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt... My mobile phone wailed demanding that I pay attention to its incoming message.

It was from the kid.

"Uy may nagmamahal sa kanya." The person I was talking on the landline at the same time heard my cell phone's buzzer. His side comment disrupted my train of thought.

"Wala yun. Mom ko. Pinapatulog na ako..."

"O sige tulog ka na, you need some rest pa." The phone, which I picked up earlier was firmly secured in my hand. At any moment, I could send a reply telling the kid to cross the driveway, go to my room and strip naked in front of me.

After all, utol was away. He can moan all he want as I thrust my cock inside his man-pussy.

Realizing what's at stake and upholding the time-honored fuck-buddy* rule, I delayed dropping my caller. Instead, I told him something to make up for the spin I said earlier and maybe, put an end to all this madness once and for all.

"Before we go to sleep, I just want you to know."

"What?"

"Ummmm... from now on, I only answer to you."

---

Over our SMS exchanges the following day, I learned that the kid wanted to crash into my place with someone he met from his ronda patrol. He was proposing a nasty threesome. My disco stick suddenly became stiff at the idea and somehow, I was a little resentful that I ignored his invitation.

Yet, kinky his suggestions may be, but my heart desired something else.

Eight years after I first engaged in homosexual activities, those who I considered fuck buddies end up doing the deed twice. Another round would mean a full commitment. Had I replied to the text message a morning earlier, the kid would have pulled the last strings holding my values in place.

Ending this entry, I remember telling a friend a forewarning of the things to be, should I find myself satisfied with having a regular playmate for the rest of my life.

"Kapag nagkaroon ako ng fuck buddy, fuck ko na lang yung idea ng relationship. No hassles, no expectations. Sex na lang ng sex."