1. turismo: For me, it's balbon and utong. Utong story will cap the Rainbow (re)Collection.
2. archiemb: I know... How I wish I had more guts in my youth. So much wasted opportunity.
3. gibo & dabo: We all miss out, in one way or another, di ba? It's all a matter of catching up, I think! :-D
4. princhecha: naku, your highness. dapat gawan ng paraan! di va? *tili*
5. joaqui: Ah, yes. The memories of youthful masturbation.
6. commuter: we are all guilty of these tittilating adventures, aren't we? :-D
I have to confeyzun to make. This is actually one of the reasons why I wanted the Rainbow (re)Collection Stories. This is my story with Digo.
The year was 1993, and I took time off studies to focus on those two things I thought I could do for life – theatre and modeling. Let’s face it – the cameras, the pictures on magazines, the multitudes looking at you on stage… I was an attention whore (in a lot of ways, I still am) and I LOVED IT.
However, I never really felt I knew where to go and how to start. I signed up to an independent theatre/singing group to start with, and that was when I met Digo. He was heading the choral group at that time, and my God, he was gorgeous. He was short, but still very attractive - he had milky soft skin that was such a strong contrast to his wild, wavy hair. He had wide eyes that mirrored his enthusiastic way of doing things. It’s like he’s always on Red Bull – but he does so that you never think he’s putting on an act or anything. While signing up, he smiled at me, and I knew I was at home with him. Although I was there for the acting part, I signed up initially for the choral.
As musical director, he basically trains us with our vocal technique and whatnot – and he was amazing. We would always spend our weeknights practicing and such, and of course, because we lived relatively close, we would end up drinking after practice with other select guys in the group.
One night, our drinking spree ended with the two of us on a laughing trip fueled by nonsensical jokes and what felt like 14 gallons of beer each. I knew I was toasted and for the first time in years, I felt alive.
At the top of our voices, we started singing “Galileo” by the Indigo Girls, a duo whom Digo loved to bits. It was one of my favourite choral songs and when we sang it, we just clicked vocally. It felt like magic to my ears.
“Hoy! Tumigil nga kayo diyan!”
Again, to MY ears, it was magic. To our neighbours, it must have been a rude 2 am wake up siren.
As we kept on singing, Digo started jumping around near the song’s coda… and dramatically twisted his ankle somehow. He toppled and fell face first onto a pile of gravel. When I got to him, he was barely conscious, his breath reeking of alcohol. Because I didn’t want to bring him all the way to his house, which would have been another 20 minute walk, with me carrying most of his drunken weight, I decided to take him home with me.
When I got to the house, I realized that he had a small wound near his eye and a small stream of blood had started to trickle down. I am not one to panic (kasi feeling Florence Nightingale, di ba?!) so I got some gauze, cleaned and dressed his wound. All the while I was trying to calm Digo down, because he just kept on talking (thank God our house has thick walls!) and mumbling. I turned around to throw out all the used gauze and such, and when I turned to face Digo, he had somehow gotten the idea in his head that he was at his house. He took off his shirt and got trapped in it, so I helped him out of it.
That was when I saw how beautiful his body was. It was like looking into a pond of milk. His muscles were tight and lean in all the right places, and I couldn’t help but look at it without breathing.
My enchantment was broken when he suddenly decided to take off his pants. Because I was still virginal at the time, and yes there WAS a time I was virginal, I didn’t know what to do but I knew that this wasn’t an opportunity that would happen again.
I reached for his pants, my fingers trying desperately to unbutton his 501s. I had gotten to the last button when his eyes opened and he stared at me blankly. No anger, no happiness – in fact, no emotion whatsoever. I didn’t know what that stare meant but I knew very well the consequences of misreading it… so I did the only thing I knew I could do well: lie.
“Hinuhubad mo ang pantaloon mo. Tinutulungan lang kita. Ikukuha na kita ng pajama.”
I went to my drawer, got one of my old PJs and turned out to offer it to Digo, but he was again fast asleep, his pants rolled down to his thigh. I took off his pants for him, my eyes running back and forth his body but always alert of Digo regaining consciousness.
I put his pajamas on him and went to the other side of the bed to sleep. In the middle of the night, I woke to find him, clutching on to my arm with my hand decidedly in between his legs. I could feel part of his hard-on on my elbow.
I couldn’t breathe.
Lyrics from Ghost by the Indigo Girls.
you'll never know how much you pierce my spirit
can you hear it
a cry to be free
or i'm forever under lock and key
as you pass through me