Confessions of a Sex Tourist--Motorcycling in Mindanao

by Lawrence Scott

  After Becky finished lunch, we loaded up and headed to Ardent Hot Springs, which sits near the top of a mountain. Becky had no swimsuit, so we walked to a nearby stand and bought her a cute bikini. Beautiful place, several pools, some with privacy. I led Becky to one of those. Je je je.

  We changed into our suits and sat at the edge of a small, hot pool. She let me grope her for awhile then swam away. They want to keep a long nose interested but not give away the farm. Je je. We swam and chatted about her family in Cebuano language for an hour or so. Then it was time to make my move. I had paid for lunch and tickets to get into Ardent Hot Springs. Time to give Becky the bill. I told her I wanted her to come back with me to the hotel and take a nap. Inwardly I held my breath and murmured a prayer to my new friend Jesus.

  She smiled a pretty smile and said “Tara na!” (let’s go)

  Becky was not a virgin so we had a great time frolicking in my room. A word here on virgins. Stay away from them! All a poor Filipina has to offer a prospective husband is her virginity. If you take that, you’re slime for one thing. But you now condemn her to second class status in the mating game. Not to mention the emotional trauma she will experience after the heat of the moment ebbs. I banged a virgin by accident once. She was a beautiful 29 year old. My first trip to PI. In my wildest imaginings, I never thought that a good-looking Filipina could remain a virgin that long. She did and I did. It was horrible. Not the sex, the aftermath. They have kind of a thing there, “If you break it, you own it”. To add to the complications, her uncle was a cop! Nothing I could do to fix her pussy back so I ran. Always felt terrible about it. We stayed in touch through Facebook and a couple years later, she landed a Texan and lived happily ever after. Being a non-virgin, landing a Filipino with any money was doubtful. I’m so happy that it all worked out for her. But I learned my lesson. Since then I have had virgins beg me to bang them. No way baby. If you are totally immoral, you can have a ball banging virgins, if that is you I hope my friend Jesus gets ahold of your ass.

  I drove Becky back to her place. She wanted to stay the night, of course; but I told her I had business to take care of. Indeed I will mention here that it is a good idea to have a business of some sort. An excuse to leave town or go someplace else, to leave them alone. They need/deserve an explanation beyond “I’m going looking for more girls.”

  My business is selling Airplanes. A friend of mine has a hanger at Boeing Field with 30 brand new AN-2s. AN-2 is the largest single engine airplane in the world, made by the Russians. He brought them over to USA with plans to sell them locally but the FAA shut him down. FAA refused to certify them for commercial work. And since they are basically freight hauling planes, he was stopped cold. So when I travel I try to sell them for him. He gives me a hefty commission on each one I sell. I worked construction for 30 years but when I’m asked what my line of work is, I say pilot. I happen to be a commercial pilot and indeed work as one occasionally. It creates too much hassle to say I’m a carpenter because carpenters here are paid so little that it makes no sense to the Filipinos that I have so much money but am only a carpenter. So to save all that explanation I just say Pilot. So I off loaded Becky as I was due to meet Fergie and her gay friend that evening. All Filipina’s have a companion with them for your first meeting. If they come alone to your hotel they are a whore, or at least everyone will think they are a whore, including me. It’s trendy lately for the girls to hang out with gays or ladyboys. Consequently, I have many numbers for ladyboys because they start texting me as soon as they are away from my GF of the moment. I don’t mind. I find ladyboys very entertaining and always up for anything. A good chance to explore your feminine side. Je je je.

  Habal Habal is the name of working motorcycles. Many haul freight. They do so using platforms built around the motorcycle. These are usually made of bamboo and extend 2 feet or more from the sides of their bikes, right at shin height. Be careful of these. The bikes are always overloaded, and the driver is fighting to maintain control of it. I go way around these guys. Another thing, when passing other motorcycle drivers, which I do often as they are so often at max gross, that I have no trouble shooting around them. Take note if the guy your about to pass has rearview mirrors, it is an expensive affectation that many just cannot afford. If he doesn’t have mirrors I give him a beep before passing. If he has mirrors, I try for eye contact.

  ~

  I lay down in my hammock to play with my tablet and maybe nap before the night begins.

  We meet in the Ferrabril restaurant at about 4pm. Fergie is a beautiful young Filipina. That if I approached for a date with her at home in the USA I would probably get pepper sprayed. But here in PI, it’s all good. I drank a liter bottle of San Miguel while her and her gay friend had some dinner. Good food at Ferrabril. After dinner, we walked over to my cabin where I planned to separate Fergie from her gay chaperone. But the gay guy, Paul had another plan. I gave him some money and he went and got beer and Tanduay for all of us. Now was my chance and I began to paw Fergie. She was ok with that but now Paul was back. He and Fergie were chattering rapidly in Tagalog, which I understood not at all. Then she abruptly goes outside to sit in the hammock. I go to follow but Paul blocks my way, then closes and locks the door. Now Paul is indeed cuter than a bug’s ear but I had my sights set on vagina not rectum. He pulls me down to sit on the bed and begins to rub my leg, at least he started on my leg. But I need way more beer than I had for the type of exploration he has in mind. See picture below.

  One of these is Fergie my GF and the other is amorous Paul. Paul could see my indecision and guessed at the problem. He poured me another glass full of Tanduay with one hand while he rubbed me over to his way of thinking with the other. Long story short—Paul’s plan prevailed.

  Things began to heat up on Camiguin. I had made a small boo boo with a cute girl that claimed to be 18 but she was 16 years old. I was so informed by a GF that found out about the tryst and was looking for revenge. Filipinas can be very vindictive when love is involved. Once again it was time to execute plan A. I kept Belinda busy texting back and forth while I loaded my bike. She was angry enough to tell the cops. Recently a long nose had broken up with a local girl here and she went to the cops and turned him in for smoking pot. He was presently sitting in jail awaiting trial.

  My theory on breaking the law, even inadvertently,is that if the cops find out and you are near, they will grab you. But if you are far away why call the cops in another town to catch you and then they get all the money. If they sit tight, you may return and they can milk you. So plan “A” has nothing to do with trying to get out of jail or hiring a good lawyer or calming down a hysterical Filipina that feels she has been wronged. The plan is pure, simple and immediate. Run. Run for your life! I loaded and raced to the dock to catch the ferry across the bay to the mainland. At the dock I had an hour to wait for the next ferry. I kept Belinda busy texting and telling her we could meet in an hour or so to discuss it.

  The ferry arrived, I loaded up and got out of Dodge.

  ~

  You tell me. Which of these girls is 20 and which is 16? Here we are at the beach drinking some beer. You can see my noble steed in the background.

  As it turned out, my GF, Belinda; was lying to me. The girl was indeed 18 so I was probably safe from the police. But she was angry enough to cook up other problems for me, so best to split.

  ~

  This is a good segway point for rules on drinking and driving. The picture above is a rarity. I almost never drink and drive in the Developing world. They have no breathalizers and very few police cars. If you are invlolved in a accident and have beer on your breath. You are doomed. In the Philippines being the foreigner you are at fault anyway, but you don’t want to add drunk driving to the list of charges. So I don’t do it. If I’m going to be drinking I leave the bike at the hotel. This day was special. Turned out so special I had to leave the island in a hurry.

  I alighted the ferry on Mindanao and drove the hundred clicks to Surig
ao City. From there I could catch the ferry to Siargao island, which is a bigtime surfer thing. I don’t like to go to the gringo Mecca, but I was near and wanted to see it. I met up with Christine in Surigao. We had been communicating through DIA, a Filipino dating site, since before I left the USA. She had been texting me continually to come and see her. So here I was. She was very nice looking but older, like 25. We followed the usual routine, took her and mom to lunch and then Christine suggested we go shopping. Yikes! Taking a Filipina shopping can be either very expensive or very embarrassing when you tell them you not buying all that stuff they carrying to the register.

  I insisted that we go to my room first and discuss this shopping trip. Once there and in my clutches things started going my way. Afterwards she insisted that I take her shopping. I have given her 1000p which is the amount I give all girls that make my spine tingle. Je je. I told her I didn’t wish to go shopping and now she had some money and could go on her own with her mom, if she liked. She was feighning anger and outrage at the small amount of money I gave her. Basic wage in the PI is 150-200p for a 12 hour work day. So a 1000p makes most girls very happy but not Christine. I decided then and there that I wanted no more of this gold digger. I got her out of my room and left for the island of Siargao the next morning. Good bye bitch!

  The boat was no “drive aboard” affair. I had to hire a few guys on both ends to get it on and off. They did nice work balancing it on the gangplank and getting it on and off board with no problems. Cost me about 1000p.

  I got a room at Pagasen Resort for 400 a night. The lady manager immediately set out to find me a wife. Brought over some cute teenagers for my perusal.

  ~

  Before I left CDO I had an interesting experience I shall relate here. The lady in question looked so sad. Jenny was a prostitute working on the street. At 25 years of age she was a bit old to have a spot at the whore house which was full of the 15-20 year olds. Jenny’s choices at this point were to become a mamasan or sell bananas. She did not have the drive for a mamasan. They tend to be very bossy and a bit mean. To keep all their girls in line and busy they must be on the hop—finding foreigners and getting money out of them. I had two mamasans on the lookout for girls for me. They would bring girls to the outdoor restaurant where I had coffee there in the mornings in Cagayan de Oro. She had a beautiful crew. I don’t normally patronize prostitutes but I made an exception for this place as the girls were so stunningly beautiful. I had met Jenny on the street before I knew about the whorehouse nearby. We went to my room and had a nice time together. She was so happy she had scored a foreigner that she promised she would bring another younger girl with her the next day and she did. She looked very sad as she watched me, and her present to me, having sex. I could see she wanted me for herself but knew it was hopeless with all this eye candy around the place. I saw her again at the little bar next to the whore house, where the foreigners and ho’s congregated. I picked out two little cuties and walked past her as we three headed to my room. It looked like she might cry. Now that I had discovered all the little cuties and the cat house, I no longer needed or wanted her. Over the next few days I spotted her on the streets pleading with foreigners to take her to their rooms. Her pathetic situation made me feel so bad. I walked over to her and asked if she would have lunch with me.

  We got a tricycle to a nearby restaurant that I liked to sit and people-watch on a busy corner. She ordered a Carabou meat soup with rice and I had a big San Miguel beer. I asked how business was going, already knowing the answer. She lied and said it was ok. She told me that her two sisters lived nearby in a boarding house while they attended school. She herself had dropped out in fourth grade. Her earnings in prostitution paid for her sisters rent and school. They would graduate soon. Very noble, I left it at that. But I did want to do something nice for her. So I spoke the most dangerous words a man can say to a Filipina Ho. “May I take you shopping?” She gave kind of a desultory answer, not too excited. That made me all the more determined. Had she jumped up and down with dollar signs in her eyes that would have put me off.

  So after she finished eating we hopped in a taxi and headed for Gaisano, the big department store chain in Visaya region, maybe all of the Philippines. I really liked this woman and I wanted to assuage my guilt for leaving her for younger girls so straight to the clothing dept. we went. With my prodding, she tried on a few outfits. If I liked them, she would accept them as gifts. I spent 50-70 dollars on her for clothes, which in USA doesn’t mean anything but in Philippines that is a lot of money for a poor girl. I expected her to be dancing a jig and slobbering all over me with gratitude. She said thank you each time I bought another top or slacks for her, but her eyes were still sad looking. I was exasperated. I was not going to be able to expiate my guilt and get my “I’m such a nice guy” high, which I craved occasionally. I take advantage of the poverty in Developing countries in order to feed my monster. Sometimes it got to me and I needed to do something to help out, to make myself feel better. This was definitely one of those times and she wasn’t giving up what I needed. She was still sad and so was I. My attempt had not only failed but if made me feel pathetic to try and make her life better with an armload of cheap clothes. I paid and we were walking to the taxi line, she carrying her new bag of clothes that many poor girls would kill for. She was sad as ever and I was angry at missing out on my high, yet out 70 bucks.

  I grabbed her arm and turned her around and headed back into the mall. “OK Goddamit!” I said loudly. I then spoke and even more dangerous sentence. “I’m going to buy you anything in this goddamn place that you want”

  She turned and looked up at me with her moist sad eyes and joy was there. “Really Lawrence?” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. The store had a jewelry department where a guy could drop a bundle. Too late to back down now, besides I was getting my buzz seeing the joy in her face.

  “Any goddamn thing you want baby” doubling down.

  She jumped up and threw her arms around my neck, a scandalous show of emotion in public; and whispered in my ear, “I want a teddybear!” I was both perplexed and relieved. I had just dodged a very expensive bullet but could not understand the request since she could have nailed me for an expensive necklace or watch.

  “You want a—what the fuck?” I felt bad about the swearing in front of her but I didn’t believe what I was hearing. She repeated the perplexing “teddybear” request. I shrugged.my shoulders and asked a security guard if there was a teddybear shop in the mall. He pointed down a long row of shops. They had a nice selection of stuffed toys and she picked out a small orange one. I paid 2 bucks for it and she held it like it were a real baby as we left the shop. She was glowing with joy and I got my buzz. “I’m happy, she’s happy, just leave it alone my man,” I whispered to myself.

  Unfortunately I did not leave it alone. We sat to have a mango shake and I asked her what was so important to her about a teddybear. “I would have bought you anything in this place and I still will if you just ask.” I declared more resolutely than I felt.

  “I just wanted one is all Lawrence. I never had one before.”

  Hummmmm…never had a teddybear. Im wondering to myself. Still not too late to leave it alone my man. I hear the whisper in my head.

  Ignoring good advice I press on, “Why in the world have you never had a teddybear?”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “When I was young my mom was very sick with cancer. No money for toys for us kids.” She didn’t seem to want to expand on that so I asked how her mother was now. “She died when I was 11 years old.” Ouch. Now I have put hurt in her eyes where joy had just been. I tried to back out of the conversation to be where we were before, happy.

  “Oh I see, raised by your Father, that’s rough.” She told me her Father had left the next day. No goodbye, no note, no nothing. I was aghast. “He just left you kids alone?”

  He had gone to live with a woman he had been having an affair with while her mom was dying.
The new lady had her own kids and didn’t want to help raise his. There were five, her, two younger sisters and two older brothers. The landlord had kicked them out of their small shack the moment there was no money for rent. She had tried to keep them all together on a street corner in CDO. The boys moved on and got gofer jobs in the market. She was alone with the two younger sisters when at 12 she decided she would need to sell her body or they would starve or die from exposure on the street. She started out sleeping with sailors from the busy port—occasionally got a foreigner. She was able to afford a boarding house and school for her two sisters, whom she still supported.

  My God that is so terrible, I thought. She was going that afternoon to show her sisters her new teddybear.

  “They will be so jealous” she said with her shy smile.

  “Do you ever see your brothers?” I asked, just trying to make light conversation after putting her through the recital of her terrible history.

  Her face went sad again. With a hitch in her voice, she explained “They refuse to speak to me or be in the same room with me because I’m a whore. They are very ashamed of me. Whenever I visit my sisters, I have to text ahead. If my bothers are visiting I cannot go.”

  ‘Tara na!” I spoke sharply, let’s go.

  I had the taxi drop her near her sisters’ and I returned to my hotel. I quietly closed the door to my room and stood for a moment.

  “You couldn’t fucking leave it alone!” I shouted. I smashed my fist into the concrete wall. “Goddamn that hurts” I exclaimed shaking my hand in the air. I try this, I kicked the wall with the same result. “Son of a bitch!” I skipped around the room punching bathroom door, closet door, entry door. Shouting in pain at each hit. Hummm…maybe this’ll work better. I picked up a half bottle of Tanduay and threw it through the TV screen. It made a very loud, satisfying explosion. The broken glass covered the bed I screamed my exultation.