My First Lover

We were neighbors in the suburbs of the Philippine Islands, where I grew up. I was an awkward teenager. My breasts were tiny lumps (oh yeah, they still are!) and I had pink cheeks from pimples. To make matters worse, my younger sister was a gorgeous babe. She had perfect golden skin and all the curves. Every guy in the neighborhood wanted her. That is, until I met him. I’ll call him Edwin.

I guess I picked him out of the crowd of boys in our neighborhood that summer I was 15. He was about six feet tall, had a nice mocha color skin, and boyish face. He walked by with another guy, taller, darker and at first glance more handsome than him. I assumed my sister would go for the cuter one, so by default I learned to set my sights always on the less flashy guy.

Edwin noticed me too. We talked a bit on the phone. He was so aloof, but really funny. Then at Christmas, we almost kissed. Do you remember being young and inexperienced, wanting love so bad but not knowing how to make it happen, even if it’s right there in front of you? It wasn’t until Valentine’s Day before Edwin and I became lovers.

It was after school. We both were still wearing our school uniforms. We were in the backseat of our friend’s yellow VW bug, and we were being silly and tickling each other… and all of a sudden our lips got so close, the proximity alone caused us to stop and take a moment, and he kissed me. Our friend’s dad drove right by and yelled for us to stop, bad luck for the car. So we moved inside to my bedroom. On my bed, french kissing, his hands headed straight for my butt. “I want to kiss every part of your body,” he whispered in between kisses. Oh, how I fought that which I desired the most. When his lips took my pleasure mound, he staked his claim on me. I wanted to possess him too.

“Can I see it?” I asked, eyeing the bulge in his pants. He seemed suddenly embarrassed. “Please…” I unzipped his pants. He looked away. His cock poked out of his fly, majestic and smooth. I did the first thing that came to my mind. I licked the rounded head. Just like a kid licks a chocolate bar to mark it, “Mine!”

I had found myself a playmate! Because my greatest fear at that time was getting pregnant, I refused to have intercourse with him. We loved giving each other head, though. I could see in his face how my pussy was this magnet that drew his lips. He could not have enough of my juices. His fingers found their way in me, too. He stretched me open, peering into me, fascinated by my tight teenage cunt, this tunnel of life-possibility.

Often I would sneak into his house, and hide under his desk. His mother was a very strict schoolteacher, so when he was confined to study I would pull his cock out of his pants and suck on it till he came. I swallowed his excretions neatly. I read somewhere that it was a good source of protein. Before long our parents took extra pains to separate the two of us. We were becoming too frisky for their comfort, but I didn’t have the courage to tell them that we weren’t really having sex, we were just… umm… you know… fooling around.

But I guess we liked the thrill of being naughty. We once went to a movie. He brought a huge sweater. Now this is Manila weather, hot and humid, but the movie theaters are frigid with air conditioning (”air-con” in Manila slang). We snuggled in our seats and fondled each other’s secret parts all through Cocoon II. He liked touching my pussy in the backseat of his friend’s car, while his friends drove us around.

His friends. Ha!

Edwin was a troubled boy. His father was the leading neurosurgeon in the country. He played prominently in the no-nukes activist group in the Philippines, and was married to a university professor. But the doctor was also a womanizer, supporting another family out of wedlock. One day, the kids couldn’t stand their mother’s emotional suffering any more, so they packed his belongings, set it out on the doorstep and changed the locks on him. This house he designed and built on his own, was now lost to him.

Edwin’s mother was heartbroken, and no way was a little hussy like me going to take her baby away from her. Edwin and I snuck around behind our parents’ back. Our forbidden fruit was irresistible.

I remember him showing me his father’s gun one day. It was in a black leather bag, with the words “No Nukes” on the front flap. It was not the first gun I had seen. My father carried a piece in his leg, and we had body guards around us constantly during the political unrest following the EDSA revolution. But in Edwin’s hands, it scared me.

Edwin went to an all-boys school, and led a secret fraternity. He was a black belt in tae kwon do, and often came home with bruises. Whether it was from a tournament or a street brawl, he was never clear. I kind of liked being the tiny little girlfriend of such a big powerful guy. One early morning one of his buddies came to see me, “Sit down,” he warned me. “Edwin might have killed a boy!”

I sat petrified. It didn’t seem possible. I was about to see him that day. I didn’t hear from him until three days later. During that torturous time, I caught up by reading the tabloids.

“Catholic Boys Kill
by Ding Dinig

14-year old freshman student of a private Catholic high school for boys is dead from a gun shot wound in the head. Witnesses say it was self-inflicted in a game of Russian Roulette in the boys’ shower. Students and faculty are being investigated regarding a secret fraternity group. Most have pointed their fingers to a 16-year-old boy named Edwin __, grandson of National Artist __, and son of prominent neurosurgeon __, as the leader of this group of troubled boys. It makes everyone wonder what is going on in today’s Catholic schools. These children of privilege seem to have it all, yet are willing to throw it all away in a deadly game of chance.”

I came to see Edwin at his house. He was covered with swollen bruises all over his face and body. He told me he had nothing to do with the kid’s death, that he wasn’t even there when it happened. He said it was his suicidal buddy Marco who brought the gun to school, and took the fraternity initiates upstairs to play Russian Roulette with. Police have arrested that boy, Edwin got to walk free, but he was expelled from high school in order to appease the disgruntled parents and assure them there were no more secret fraternities in their academic institution. His bruises were from his dad beating him up over this scandal.

I took him in my arms and kissed every bruise lightly. Little feather kisses all over his body, I took his flaccid penis into my mouth and felt it grow larger and stronger. He looked at my face with so much love in his eyes. I sucked his cock, so happy he was alive and free to be with me. His tan torso writhed as he made his offering on my waiting tongue. He winced a little at the pain of movement, but reached over to taste his own cum on my lips.

I was about to graduate from high school, Edwin continued his studies at home. He was still plagued by death threats from the dead boy’s family. He was completely cut off from all his friends. I was the only friend he had.

I started college at the university. It was the first time I had boys in my class and I finally got to wear street clothes to school. Freshman year was pretty exciting. I couldn’t legally drive yet, but my dad gave me the services of my own bodyguard-driver. He was cool, and understood my need to see Edwin after school. He never said a word to my dad about our activities in the backseat of the car. He drove us to beach resorts in nearby provinces like Batangas. We went on romps on the beach and quick cabana escapades.

At the university, I was motivated by travel. I joined the a capella choir known to go on concert tours all over Europe and the United States. I’ve always known I could sing, the nuns taught us how to read music and sing in chorus. But in college, I learned I was very good at it. From meeting teachers who are also mass media professionals, I started making television appearances as a singer and actress, recording radio ads and commercial jingles, and performing live onstage in concert and theater productions.

While Edwin’s world revolved around me, I began to see him as a burden on my fast-moving college lifestyle. He became more possessive, more demanding of my time. And I had less time and patience to give. So between sobs, I broke up with him. I knew I would forever regret it, but I was following the momentum of my life. I chalked it up to “right love, wrong time” and would forever look back at the love we shared as an impossible standard for my future lovers to measure up to.

From the a capella choir at the university I met Rey, the son of the generalissimo of the Philippine Police. He was short, only a few inches taller than me, and dark. He was a popular figure at school, and he was “there for me” at the tail end of my relationship with Edwin. My parents trusted me going out with him, because he also had a bodyguard of his own.

He was thoughtful, a generous gift giver but a good lover he was not. When he first kissed me, he did it so dramatically I was a bit put off. That weekend I snuck him away and unbuttoned his Levi’s 501 jeans. He was much smaller in size than Edwin, and I was annoyed that he sucked on my neck and gave me a hicky. I hate that! I had to wear turtlenecks (in 100 degree weather!) and pretend I’d lost my voice for days just to cover it up.

As time went by he became more and more offensive to me. He never offered to give me head, and yet would push my head downward to his crotch in heated moments, saying, “Kiss this boy!” We were constantly fighting and getting back together. It was almost as if I kept hanging out with him only to antagonize him and make him jealous.

On my 18th birthday my parents asked if I wanted a big coming out party, a debut, as it was customary in Manila society. I said no. All I wanted was a video camera. So my folks got me a video camera and surprised me with a car.

Edwin came by my house on my birthday to give me a pink plush toy elephant. I showed him my new video camera and we wound up playing with it in my bedroom. I plugged it into the television monitor and we made out on camera. He kept saying, “We shouldn’t be doing this!” in between intoxicating whiffs of each other’s pheromones.

Right in the middle of our amateur shoot, Rey came by to drop off his gift. He noticed I was a bit flush and seemed confused by my lack of party spirit. I hurried him off as quickly as I could, and disappointed him by not appreciating the painting he made of a bright colored angular cartoon-y woman (I guess, me) singing.

Edwin had gotten dressed and out of my bedroom by the time I got back. I met him at the kitchen. I pulled him below the counter, out of sight from any of the maids. My body missed his touch, and from the way he held me I could tell he missed me too.

I can still feel the cool marble floor, his long fingers pulling my panties aside to get to my wet slit. And then I felt his finger penetrate me. My muscle clung tightly to him, threw a quiver all the way to the ends of my hair. I wanted more of him. I wanted his cock inside me. I pulled his hardness toward my cunt.

It was the first time I was aware of how large he was. I guess I needed to be with someone else, so I could appreciate what he had. His cock stood poised at the entrance to my hole. Whenever he pushed in, it hurt so much unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

I wish I could say that he was my first. He was not. We never ever had intercourse. I chickened out, said I wasn’t ready. In retrospect I wish he’d grabbed my hips and ground his huge hard cock into me. Take all my frustrations and uncertainties and fuck it the hell out of me, take it all away with my virginity. I wish he’d been a man.

I realized then that he was still only a boy. He was my playmate, a sweet boy to discover sex, love and pleasure with, but not a man who can take care of me beyond what I was capable of asking for at the moment. I loved him so much, but I needed so much more.

The series of men I dated after Edwin were disappointing, and even after I’d migrated to the United States, I would still call him wishing we could get back together and pick up where we left off. Losing him, I learned how rare and special it is to find true love. When I finally met Jay I quickly recognized that what we have is the real thing, and that something this real deserves to be nurtured and protected.