M2M

July 26, 2007

Now, this would be a good segue into my next topic. No, this is not about the girlie pop band headlined by Raven and whats-her-name though this is equally nasty.  

My introduction into the dark arts started innocently enough.  I have this friend who has an extensive collection of porno movies, magazines, jokes, playing cards and even toys.  This was the time when the Internet wasn't so affordable to bums like me so you could just imagine me and a couple of other boys frequenting his place. And it was quite a sacrifice on my part, too, because I don't particularly like him. hehe

Anyway, one day he handed me a nondescript cd, with the title scrapped by a coin or something sharp, I guess. He told me to check it out. That it's going to be the best porno movie I would see in my whole life. That statement right there should have warned me about the sausage-jousting I was about to witness. But how could I have guessed? When it comes to porno, he was the connoisseur and with all the Kung Fu movies I watched, nobody questions the teaching techniques of the ancient white-bearded master.  That earns you a lot of bitch-slappin' and a sermon — in subtitles no less. 

So I set out straight home and popped in the cd to the player. The movie skipped the opening credits and went straight for the jugular: two males in underwear eating apples in the sofa. I beamed. Ooohh… this is going to be a sandwich action (for the uninitiated, sandwich could mean two girls and a boy or two boys and a girl). All the elements of a porno movie are there: bad lighting, cheesy soundtrack, an exaggerated moans.  I remembered wondering aloud why the preoccupation with apples 'coz the male actors were moaning while eating up that apple like it was the first meal they've had after weeks of being stranded at sea. Well, the first actor certainly looked the part since he was emaciated judging from the ribs poking out from his sides. 

Then the other, plumpier actor did a most curious thing. He poured apple sauce to the nipple of his famished partner. Okay,  I thought, anytime now the woman will enter the picture. Probably dressed as a French maid admonishing the two men for "being naughty" and threatening to spank them. Meanwhile, the actor was rubbing that apple sauce from the thin actor's nipple and throughout his whole body. His neck, torso, arms. The apple sauce dripping towards his underwear to his erect phallus. 

I looked towards the door behind the two actors. Okay girl. You've had your fun by keeping me waiting. You can come in anytime now. From the corner of my eye, I saw the hairy sonafabitch licked the apple sauce!

WTF! They're not waiting for the girl? 

It dawned on me while the famished actor was moaning in pleasure that I've been suckered.  This is M2M or male to male action. That bastard! No wonder I didn't particularly like him. What did I do? Well, I was already there and the two actors seemed to like licking each other very much and it would be rude to stop them, and I was mildly curious. So…  

The first ten minutes was hell. I tried to be clinical about the whole thing but it's like watching a snuff film where somebody is getting whacked in video. You know the feeling that you couldn't bear to watch but your curiosity gets the better of you and you couldn't do anything else but watch? I never saw too much licking in my life. My dog didn't lick that much and he was a slobber. Then when one of the actors took into his mouth the angry phallus of his partner, my head blew and I nearly threw a shoe at the television set. 

Man! that was intense. (I wonder why I didn't turn the player off right there?)

The next 10 minutes was pure agony but for an entirely different reason. You see, as my mind protested, my pupils started to dilate; goosebumps crawled from my spine up my neck; my breathing expanded and shortened to regular breaks.

And Jimminy Cricket swelled.  

I watched entranced at the two men, fully naked on the sofa, in a missionary position and necking. My boxer shorts now a bundle of activity, like a caged animal thrashing and flaying to get out. A glint of sweat dripped from my hair to my temple even as the electric fan idly hummed behind me.  

My right hand traced my chest down to my stomach, passing over my navel.  The animal inside my underwear stopped thrashing for it knew it soon would be released. I arched my back as my hand continued its descent, down, down towards my boxer shorts. The air stilled.  

And before I trounced upon the whole macho family legacy I hold dear. I heard a click. It was my left hand flicking the off button in the TV remote.  I immediately got up and took a shower. 

Whew! 

I know exactly how you feel.

Relieved as hell.