Topping

When I was younger, I always saw myself in an exclusively bottom/submissive position in a relationship or in sexual trysts and liaisons. The men in my life tended to reflect this general disposition of mine. Over the years though I discovered the other side of me, the ability to actually put my male tools to proper use for a change. It comes to no surprise that I have grown pretty fond of the alternative acts, but it does come with a slight problem. Premature explosions.

Now really I'm all up for dandy good times and rolling in the hay but whenever I reach Cloud 9 within a few minutes of insertion it always eats at my ego and is usually an embarrassing experience for both parties. Granted that my usual top sessions are relatively few and far between when I haven't had myself some action in some time, it may be fair to take those factors into consideration with my inability to cope with the heat and pleasure.

That is not to say I haven't occasionally found myself going beyond my usual median threshold but suffice to say it'd be good if I could perform without apprehensions and constantly having to worry about early fireworks. I reckon it's usually when I've exhausted my earlier reserves that I find myself performing relatively longer although if that is a prerequisite to every bout in bed that is rather sad really.

I reckon what I need is a relatively consistent bottom partner to train myself on a perpetual basis to hone my skills and tolerance so that the next time I engage in the acts of pleasure giving (as opposed to constantly being on the receiving end) I can at least perform to the level of a competent male. Because fuck me, I'm in my 20s. Time to buck up.

After experiencing the best of both worlds I have to say being the assertive partner in sexual encounters can be quite a challenge seeing as you carry the weight of the whole experience and contribute to the overall rhythm of the act. Although on a plus point the mess is far less contentious to deal with and you don't have to worry about any serious sores the day after.

If anyone has some tips and pointers to share on how to improve in being a top I'm all ears. Male ego cast aside and all that jazz. Shoot away lads. Figuratively speaking of course.

Alvin and Vivian Ramadhan Controversy

Recently the controversial duet Alvivi (of NUS sex video fame) posted a picture up on the consumption of a famous pork based soup dish in mockery of the breaking of fast for the month of Ramadhan. This has obviously led to alot of upset feelings amongst the Malay/Muslim community of Malaysia due to the obvious mockery of their religion and customs (pork is banned from consumption by Muslims if you have been living under a rock).

Naturally with race relations being so rocky after the election, their series of actions have led to an inevitable firestorm of sentiment and anger. And naturally our government and politicians are rattling their sabres and knives screaming for the blood of these two now, demanding the most serious of legal actions be taken against them.

Today they have finally posted an apology video:



 Now the thing about this Alvivi couple is that I generally find myself in support of most of their previous actions as questionable morally as it may be. When they argued for liberal values of having the right to showcase to all and sundry their sexual prowess and to discuss frankly and openly sexuality without fear I was genuinely on their side. I have even read most of Alvin's postings and write ups both legal and political and found myself sharing his point of view more often than not. He was after all a law student at the National University of Singapore at one point, and his rebellious streak and decision to stand by his unorthodox principles no matter the cost made me respect him, albeit subtly and discretely.

And then he goes full retard mode with this latest posting and I find myself slamming my face into my desk. Really now, if his idea is to play agent provocateur, he should have been smarter about it and should have seriously reconsidered his target parody hit. No really, for someone that has spent a fair deal of his life time growing up in Malaysia is he really so ignorant and stupid to not be aware of Muslim sensitivities and the level of backlash he and Vivian would receive?

Further, knowing him and his views, it is more likely than not that he intended to make a particular stand on purpose before back tracking from the legal forces that are about to come down hard upon him. His blatant disregard for the potential melt down in ethnic relations is downright irresponsible and idiotic and thank fuck he (apparently) recognises this too from his new pseudo-apology video. If this picture becomes the catalyst for any rise in violence or further degeneration of our Malaysian society along racial lines any collateral damage that results from his incompetent actions will lie squarely on his shoulders. I target Alvin here because he is clearly the brains of all operations and ideas while Vivian tends to be his convenient female accessory. The woman is barely competent in her grasp of the English language let alone the intricacies of political matters.

Oh Alvin, you've really outdone yourself this time. Stick to sexually liberating matters and keep your fingers out of religious politics before you get yourselves killed. Don't become like that other asshole Namewee which all the dipshit Chinese Nationalists in Malaysia seem to have such a hard on for. Yes, I dislike Namewee with a passion. Sod off if he's your messiah. And yes I'm Chinese but I think he's another vulgar twathead that is bereft of talent or class. I'm aware of the hypocrisy here with regards to vulgarity. Sue me.

London Pride

This post is way overdue but just a weekend or two ago London had it's Pride Day with the expected Pride Parades. Coming from conservative Malaysia, it comes to no surprise that I've had no experience whatsoever with regards to fashionable and fabulous events of such colour and so I got myself there as a curious observer. Naturally.

I'll say, London is pretty gay. Gayer than I had initially given it credit for. Soho (Gayville) in London was teeming with a ridiculous number of people and I think that segment of the city became a third world nation for awhile with all the bottles and trash littering the streets. Come on Britain, you're supposed to be a First World nation. Don't be daft and forget your civic lessons from school, Lord Almighty.

The Parade itself was rather interesting with a variety of colours and causes both political and religious being advanced. So we had the Gay athiests, Hindu, Christian, Catholics, environmentalist, geek, communist, lawyers, doctors, firemen, army yadda yadda associations all coming out of the woodwork and giving us a damn good display on the streets of Oxford Circus, down Regent's Street all the way towards Picadilly and finally stopping at Trafalgar Square for the Grand Concert.

  

Above all the association that impressed me most was the LGBT Muslim association. When they came out, the crowd cheered louder than ever. Instinctively I cheered pretty damn loud myself before even realising it. In a way I was just happy seeing my fellow Muslims having a voice of tolerance and trying to initiate a renaissance of acceptance, and even though it would be a long long arduous road ahead fraught with dangers and challenges, these brave men and women led the charge. Almost brought me to tears to be honest.

  

 Very courageous

There was also the LGBT lawyers marching around in their fancy wigs and robes. The Bar Standards Board must be indulging in much wailing, groaning and gnashing of teeth at the sight of the symbols of judicial might being used so fabulously. Conversely, one could say justice is being paraded for a good cause. I digress. Instinctively one of the gay lawyers stuck a gay lawyer sticker on my shoulder (I was getting all sorts of stickers put upon me even as an observer). Maybe I just have a legal vibe about me. Makes all the bitches at Heaven seem to think I'm pompous and hate on me for some reason. Oh well, no surprise when half of the idiots there are doing fine art and fashion and other assorted bullshit courses. Fuck me, digressed again.

Barrister in wig and gown hidden in the left.

One of my straight friends spontaneously decided to drop by in London on that day itself. Obviously being the closeted bisexual I did not let my true inclinations out for all and sundry and that included hiding said inclinations from him. We met up and he interestingly enough was all for attending the LGBT event in Trafalgar Square and just showing his support and tolerance as a straight man without prejudice towards the community. Even took a picture with a fabulous transsexual there. These are the types of people I want to surround myself with. Open minded, compassionate and non judgmental. I appreciate him really.

  

Crowds at Trafalgar Square

Later that day I decided to join a white friend whom used to like me quite abit to party. I got dragged into Soho and there was Black Pride for the Afro-Carribean LGBT community of London being held at one corner near a small square/park. So I joined my old admirer and his black faghag to dance with the rest of the LGBT Afro-Carribeans to soulful black music. I think I must have been the only Asian dancing in a crowd of very happy gay black men. Did I mention I kinda like blacks? Not that I've tried one and most Asians are so judgmental about that. Fuck off. Don't hate.

 

Soho being bloody crowded

Finally on the night itself one of the clubs was having the Backstreet Boys and the Wanted performing back to back after midnight. Got myself hammered with my black and white bitches and we looked like a colorful United Nations of Drunkards. The line was bloody awful because apparently the Backstreet Uncles are still popular with the faggots of London.

Waited in line for the next 2 hours or so till my high went down although at least the people in the line were interesting. Some Americans and Australians added to the fun. So we were all tossing nationality and racial jokes at each other and when it came to me nobody had shit to use against Malaysia because most people don't know jack shit about Malaysia anyway. So instead I got all kinds of racist Thai jokes thrown my way. Bugger me senseless, apparently Malaysians like to give "sucky sucky 3.50 Baht" and what not. Luckily I wasn't Thai or I would just be slightly offended.

And yes I obviously missed out on the Backstreet Boys because of the retardedly long queue although at least I got to catch the Wanted. Gotta pity the Wanted though, everyone was leaving as soon as the Backstreet Boys were done. Overall it was a good weekend. London's fun when its this gay.

 I'm glad you came. *cheeky smile*

Warning Not Work Safe: Porn Idol 2

So not too long ago I brought one of my rather inexperienced friends over to Heaven for Porn Idol night because, why the hell not. To those unaware, Porn Idol is an event at one of London's largest gay clubs whereby anyone from the audience and in general can do a dance and song striptease over a pole in front of the crowd before being judged by a panel of 3 incredibly funny (and oftentimes bitchy) judges X Factor style.

So basically I arrived there with my rather naive and innocent friend whom I was about to corrupt and bumped into more mates there because everyone loves Porn Idol. A disclaimer though, because of the open nature of the competition you can sometimes receive the very best of the sexiest beasts to the very worst of the undateables. So without further ado: Porn Idol.

Note: The less attractive contestants have been eliminated from this list as when I mean they are bad, they really are bad. According to one female judge: "I don't know whether to shag or feed you honey, you look more brittle than my personal China Tea set."

 Contestant 1 blazes out his moves and according to one of the female judges: "You make my fanny wetter than the Titanic, I'd shag you rough over the stage itself honey" Definitely a show stopper with his application of body oil all over himself.

 Contestant 3 is the only female in the competition and the first one I've ever seen in Porn Idol. Very likely a Butch Lesbian but she's on fucking fire and wilder than a bitch in heat. Security had to control her a few times and the bitchy judges were less than impressed by her despite jaw dropping dance moves. And yes she shows her fanny.

 Contestant 4 is a Californian boy that has a similar enough bone structure to mine with more meat on of course so I naturally felt attached. Not too bad.

 Contestant 5 comes in with a full suit, bowtie and top hat before ripping them all off and getting down and dirty with the pole. Overall I preferred him with his clothes on though.

 Contestant 6 was an Italian guy that spoke no English so he just went all out for it. Unfortunately he could not understand any comments the judges made no matter how snide.

 Contestant 9 was a tourist from one of those Scandinavian countries and I thought he had a certain charm about him with his sporting attitude on stage. Thought he was somewhat hot but I didn't get a clear picture. Fail.

Thereafter all the contestants are lined up and the screams from the audience for each of them would be counted as a vote to preserve the final two whom would then give a final performance.

 Guy with the awkward thumbs up was apparently a legal provider. Friends were giving me funny looks and asking if that's what happens in the profession. Fuck me, that was awkward. Wonder what the Bar Standards Board would think.

And so the finals ended being between the lesbian contestant 3 and Mr hot shot contestant 1. They both showed us some crazy moves although the woman was bloody mental. They kept leaping unto each other in a mock fight before security tore them apart a couple of times. Was pretty damn funny I'd say.

So the final bunch of screams seemed to indicate just slightly stronger support for the woman although being a gay club and all the judges were fucking biased against her it wasn't even funny. So guess who won? Duh. The dude, oh well, gay club. Hah!

And ironically that night I spent quite a fair deal dancing with some Korean chick in the same club before taking down her number during the "Call me Maybe" segment. This is getting odd, me dancing with random chicks in Heaven before taking down their numbers and never calling anyway. Oh well, I like my stranger routine I guess. Weird that way. It's interesting how comfortable girls are to just dancing with you freely when they think you're gay, until I correct them otherwise and they go "No wonder." Ah well, bisexuality. Best of both worlds.

Just One of Those Nights

It's one of those nights that I look back and reflect on life and we're we've arrived at and what we've become. You're in Paris now, it brings back so many memories that city. Last year around this time I was there but you were having your finals in Edinburgh. I remember me spending my French nights calling you on Viber, gushing and giggling like a little school girl. You were so nervous about potentially failing an exam in front of the medical board.

I remember that year I walked up to the Eiffel Tower and looked down upon the city. I saw the sun set upon the beautiful French horizon and wished then that you could see it with me. What a view it was. Fast forward a year later, you're viewing that same horizon but without me now. I wonder, do I cross your mind and haunt your thoughts with dreams of yesteryear?

I saw your Jack'd profile of course. I always knew it was you despite your lack of pictures. My gut feeling just led me to it and to you. You don't spend nearly 300 days talking day in and out with someone without their little quirks or habits registering with you. The subtleties of their writing styles and little unsaid attitudes.

It's interesting, I've spent all of May and the greater whole of June not thinking of you. But like all dead people, we occasionally reminisce about them. I hate you, I love you simultaneously. I reckon its a mental illness I'll carry with me to the end of my days.

I think after all my antics I've burned any hope of reconciliation by now. We'd probably never talk again in the near future or ever. But these dreams, these pictures and final moments. Everything from the sensual, the emotional, the sexual, it will haunt us from now till the hereafter.

Like that final menage-a-trois, or that final meal, or that final kiss. I still feel it in my bones, and quiver from time to time.

I hate to say it, but I'll always love you. Even when I hate you. And even when you hate me. The Lord told me once to not fight hatred with hate after all. That's the least I can do before I lost myself and you.

Little Gay Happenings

Last week I had myself a small gay trip with one of my gay besties JK down south in Brighton. We had become acquainted through Jack'd over the last summer and considering he was headed home for Malaysia soon and I'd be stuck here till September or so, I probably wouldn't be seeing him again for over a year as by the time I would leave UK for good he'd be returning for his following year to continue his degree. As such it would do us both good to have a nice little gay bonding time.

So it came to no surprise that we chose Brighton, the supposed gay capital of Europe. For a change the sun was up in UK (bloody shocker I know) and the beaches were thriving with a ton of barely clothed (sometimes unclothed) people having some fun in the sun. Hell the entire city was full of shirtless people just casually walking around basking in the sun. Not me though, I'm still on the shyer side with toplessness, shall probably need a couple more months of intensive work out regiments and I shall be good to go. Relatively comfortable with my body where play in bed is concerned though heh. JK on the other hand was pretty gym fit so I wouldn't be surprised if he were dying to tear off that shirt of his half the time.

We booked ourselves a backpackers dorm crammed with 15 other people. It looked like a morgue but we were having ourselves a fabulous holiday as opposed to a posh one after all.

Hide the bodies

Suffice to say, it was an interesting laid back town that we could just chill and lay back in whilst checking all the hot bods around. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of Westerners but JK was quite the massive potato queen so I guess he had himself eye candy by the truckloads. And yes that's why we aren't dating despite being pretty close friends. He likes his men blonde and blue eyed, older, rugged and pretty meaty. I think I'm just a tad bit leaning on the pretty boy side. No surprise I get myself a proper 9 foot hole in the friend zone cemetery then heh.

They had this interesting pier that stretched out into the sea with a fun fair at the very end. We got conned into eating the shitty pricey versions of the Fish and Chips we so desperately craved although we had ourselves multiple grand meals thereafter to compensate for that.

 So this must be where Melbourne got its inspiration from

This restaurant is modeled after a classical opera house

 Tourist adventures take you through a maze of small little lanes where you can find all sorts of curios and food outlets in unique hidden settings.

By now everyone is probably wondering where are all the pictures of the hot guys all over the beach are. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that no such pictures are available as my traveling buddy decided to capture pictures of that variety instead.

Of course we had to try the night scene in the supposed Gay capital as well. First night proved to be a massive disappointment because apparently everything is dead on Wednesdays. The second night had JK calling his Brighton friend to show us around though and it turned out the friend was a legal lecturer at Manchester Uni once. Things got a tad awkward when I found out he was friends with my many educators back in the good old undergraduate days. Bugger me senseless, imagine dancing in clubs with your professors. That has to be next level unprofessional conduct right there!

Suffice to say, I'm always happy to receive free drinks till I sway a tad and start intimately dancing with random lesbians. There was a foam party going on at the club I was in and I never realised how irritating or disgusting foam could be to be honest. It's all sticky and soapy and unless all the hot boys start stripping and grinding their soapy bodies against each other (and me) it ain't exactly a fun experience to have detergent shot at your face continuously from an air cannon. I'm such a fussy bitch aren't I?

Covered lightly in foam before the next wave

Suffice to say I had a great deal of fun partying and traveling with JK. Reminds me of our first party at Marketplace back in August 2012. I reckon I'll miss him when he leaves and whilst we might not be lovers I've grown to appreciate proper platonic gay friendships that matter.

Upon returning to London, I had my last few meet ups with JY (Singaporean from last post). It was kind of sad that he was leaving for the summer and we would not see each other again for the longest time as once again by the time he'd be back, I'd have left this city for good. So we had a nice slow night with dinner and drinks, basking in the city lights. We met his friends (and some guy competing with me for him) and proceeded for a final party before he left for good. Can I just say this world is too damn small and his friends are people whom are friends or exes of people I'm kind of close to? Jesus, this circle.

That last night, we took a bus ride home after the party. He had a flight come the dawn and this was us saying our final farewells. He had a book launch back in Singapore soon, it contained poems relating to his sexuality, his parents were sure to question him. He mentioned perhaps some day I might be a part of his poetry too, stories of our brief summer in London. Maybe I'll send him poetry of my own too, let a professional objectively critique my work. I walked him to his doorstep, we hugged and I was just about to leave when I turned.

And landed a soft kiss to his lips. It was soft, tender and sweet unlike my usual lusty trysts or fickle flames. We parted, and then he was gone. The kiss lingered, and before long I was home with a smile. Parting ever was bittersweet. Maybe some day I'll see you again.

Asian Smile

I mentioned some time back I was stalking this Singaporean dude that wrote award winning poetry whilst publishing his second book recently in a post awhile back. Lets call him JY. Well as fate would have it, I'm now seeing him quite a bit. I was a tad apprehensive going for lawyers again especially after the disaster some time back in 2011 when the relation just degenerated into a lot of unnecessary arguments and ego trips so I was a tad apprehensive getting involved in another cluster fuck of arguments. But we get along thus far and that's what counts, here's me crossing my fingers.

Now that isn't the point of this post. The point of this post was what happened last night. So I dragged him out with me to meet up a number of my other gay mates in our usual favourite bars and clubs on a Saturday night. We were holding hands quite abit as the place was dark and crowded as fuck so I did not plan on losing him. That was when an asshole whom I shall refer to as the Creeper showed up.

Now the Creeper was a middle aged white male whom ambushed me from the side and whispered into my ear after giving me the creepiest pedo smile.

"What's your name?" he breathed far too close for comfort. I gave him a fake smile which should translate into fuck off before dragging JY and myself into the crowd to get away from him.

So after dancing for a bit we came to the realisation that we were too sober to properly enjoy ourselves, so off to the bar we went.

We were all at the bar then when JY asked me to take a peek behind. The Creeper was there, staring and smiling at me just a couple of lines away in the crowd at the bar. Shit.

So we casually went about our way fighting through the crowd at the bar and waiting for the slow service to get moving (British bars are ridiculously crowded with people shoving and pushing to get some drinks served, darn alcoholics). It was then that I felt a tingling in my neck before feeling a hot breath behind me. I turned again.

The Creeper was now directly behind me, breathing down my neck with the most fucking creepy smile ever.

Suddenly he was up at the bar and caressing my arse. Felt a tad violated but said nothing. A friend then passed me a random balloon which I put at my arse to prevent any further violations of my modesty. The twat obviously cared not about my discomfort, simply swatting the balloon away and reaching to to lightly caress my behinds again. Obviously I was getting pissed, and told JY that I was going to punch him in the face but JY being a lawyer as well went through the whole actual bodily harm/common assault discussion with me (we do that) and I certainly wasn't going to start an incident that would get me thrown out of the bar so I ignored it again.

After disappearing into the crowd and having a good time for an hour or so, I decided it was time for yet another round of drinks. So whilst at the bar guess who pops up again? Yes, the mother fucking Creeper.

This time he goes for a more direct approach.

"Hi, I like you. I'm from Spain, what's your name?"

I ignore him and smile whilst rolling my eyes.

"I LIKE YOU! What do you study? Where do you stay?"

Smile again, and ignore.

"Why you so shy? You so shy! I like you!!" I was getting so fucking annoyed I nearly told him to fuck off but oh well Asian manners dictate we don't let our level of dislikes be known. So I politely replied:

"I'm taken, that's my boyfriend," whilst pointing to JY.

"I like you, come with me, I like you. Why you so shy?"

"I told you, I'm in a relationship and I'm not interested." Fuck me, is this guy daft in the head?

Finally after realising that despite my rapidly disappearing smiles, I was growing increasingly cold and so he apologized and finally fucked off. God, these Westerners can be so clueless with Asian body language in that when we "smile" it doesn't necessarily mean we're smiling in a good way. It can be sarcastic or just us being polite. I'm not "shy", I'm beyond annoyed but politely asking you to get out of my face. And I don't talk to Middle aged men in clubs because if you're that age and still soliciting young Asian boys in clubs and bars I don't really have very much respect for you to be honest. By that age I'd probably be getting boys to come to me instead already rather than lurking in dark corners like a desperate creep.

The rest of the night went really well in our little Asian circle of Koreans, Hong Kongers, Singaporeans and British Asians. It might sound rather racist but I like my oriental boys, oh well. Preference really, no offense. I have my fair share of white friends too. The last I saw of the Creeper, he was making out with another Malaysian boy in my group before they both disappeared for the night. Grossed me out, but at least he was no longer pursuing me and at least I had a cutie to dance with till the morning light. <3