I came to the conclusion that I would seriously need to evaluate
what I’ve been taught – it seems that most of the things that I’ve
learnt was colored by propaganda. I wanted to try everything the world
has to offer, because I seem to have missed out on all the good bits.
None of my Asian friends take drugs (some of them were quite against
it) so I told Sam that I’m interested in LSD. Incidentally, there was a
rave that weekend, so a bunch of us got some acid tabs from Sam’s
contact. One blotter cost NZ$ 50, which sounds like an obscene amount,
but being high school teenagers in a rather remote country results in
paying more for drugs. It was very much worth it though – my first trip
was absolutely wonderful!
I was told to take the blotter sublingually (i.e. just put it under
the tongue and let it be) and just go with the flow. I didn’t even
notice when it hit me…I suddenly felt that my thought processes were
unusual, nay, bizarre. The ravers around me started
leaving visual trails in their movement and I turned over to Sam. His
face looked rather distorted so I wasn’t completely sure it was
him…and I’ll always remember what happened when I stared blankly at
him. Sam took one look at my dilated pupils, grinned and said “Huai
Bin, you’re tripping!”
Indeed, I was…and I loved every second of it. This was the time I
fell in love with the rave scene. I just felt like everyone had this
common bond. I wouldn’t describe it as the “candy raver/PLUR”
type of bond – raves were (relatively) underground then, and not as
commercialized as it is now. Most people took LSD and it just felt like
everyone was on the same wavelength. I remember one of my
favorite things to do while tripping at raves is to be at the floor and
look at someone and imagine what they do in real life…are they
university students? Are they office workers? I could think up complex
scenarios while on acid and I didn’t even need speed to keep on moving
from 10 PM till 6 AM.
I also started smoking cannabis with Sam, Victoria, Ryan and some
other people I can’t remember. We would split the price of a “tinny”
(NZ$ 20 worth of cannabis) and share it. I still remember the first
time I got really stoned…the four of us were at Sam’s cousin’s house
and we were doing “hot knifes”. I was given the honor of getting the
first hit, since I couldn’t really get stoned the previous times. Sam
was telling me how to inhale really hard as soon as smoke starts coming
out and handed me a 2 liter Coke plastic bottle with the bottom cut off.
I waited in anticipation as Sam placed two knifes across the hot
stove top and Victoria started making little balls of weed. “You’re
going to love this”, she said. The knifes were soon deemed to be hot
enough and Sam held one of them with the blade facing sideways and told
me to get ready as Victoria dropped a ball on the hot metal surface.
The ball of marijuana started smoking almost immediately and I held
onto the bottle as Sam clamped the other knife to cover the ball and
moved the billowing apparatus under my bottle.
“Toke, toke, toke”, the others chanted. I inhaled hard…and was
filled with more smoke that I’ve ever thought my lungs would hold. “Go
as hard as you can”, Sam said as I inhaled even more of the smoke…I
was determined to get stoned this time. I nearly choked when the smoke
was all sucked up and I felt like my lungs are bleeding. “Hold it in”,
Ryan urged me. I held it…and finally coughed and chocked and gasped
for air. Everyone was eager to know…how did I feel?
I didn’t feel anything…except that my lungs hurt. “Alright, here’s
the second hit”, Sam declared and on I went again. That was the one
that pushed me into Cannabis Country. I said I’ve had enough, would
need some rest for my lungs and as I watched the others smoke, I
started to notice that sounds were getting muffled and I had this thing pressing against my cheek. I kept on wondering what it was, it took me minutes to figure out it was my tongue. Sheesh.
I looked at Ryan choking on his hit and his expression suddenly
seemed extremally hilarious, I couldn’t stop laughing, and laugh I did.
I laughed and laughed, driving everyone to uncontrolled laughter and
when I tried to stop laughing to make my stomach stop cramping up,
Victoria looked at me and said “Oh my God, you’re so stoned, look at
your eyes!” between gasps of laughter. I was still laughing when the
others confirmed that yes, I was indeed stoned. I looked at myself in
the mirror and noticed my bloodshot eyes.
We went into the bedroom to watch TV and suddenly, when some
chocolate chip cookies were produced, I felt that I could eat every
single one. “It’s the munchies”, Sam told me. It was slightly
uncomfortable, but I liked being stoned. We later all piled into the
car and Victoria drove (the concept of responsible driving wasn’t
exactly familiar then) to Big Gary’s, a local chip shop that had huge
hot dogs – foot long sausages covered in batter and deep fried and
slathered with tomato sauce. I never had anything better.
This was the beginning of the stoners club, we smoked weed almost
every night, and I stumbled into my room totally stoned after being
dropped off at my home stay. I remember many memories of the Riccarton
stoners club – the times we smoked cannabis and attended class and
tried not to laugh, the drama practices we went to while stoned, the
visits to Big Gary’s, and this particularly funny incident where we
were smoking at Sam’s house and his mother asked us what we were doing.
She shouted from her bedroom and asked what we were up to, making
such a commotion so late on a school night. I’ll never forget Sam’s
reply…we were all eating the foot long hot dogs, but he somehow
replied “Nothing, we’re just eating our hot doughnuts!”. It took a
while for the comment to register. We all started laughing
hysterically, it seemed so funny at that time, and it still sounds
funny to me. We were eating hot dogs, but Sam said doughnuts for some
reason. He was puzzled at our laughter until I managed to gasp out
I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life and everyone was
in tears, and when the rest of us started to maintain some semblance of
composure, Sam suddenly got the mistake and laughed again, which of
course, fuelled another round of laughter from us. The hot doughnuts
inside joke became our slang for smoking cannabis. “Everyone up for
some hot doughnuts tonight?” was our code for the nightly weed smoking
sessions. I loved dropping acid and going to raves, I loved smoking
The socio-dynamics of this microcosm called “high school” is
understandably different from the real world. I found out that suddenly
everyone knows my name and people started smiling and saying hello
between classes. I found myself propelled to “cool” status just because
I take drugs and I hang out with the “popular crowd”. I suddenly had
too many house parties to attend, too many raves to go to, too many
friends to hang out with and this resulted in some resentment from my
Asian friends and other Asians in the school for breaking some unspoken
rule about socializing with Caucasians instead of sticking together.
I was accused of not having time for Ah Boon and the rest anymore,
and they were increasing incidents of “Kia, wa lang kaki ki, e mai chak
wa lang liaw” (Come, let’s go, he’s not interested in hanging out with
us anymore) within my hearing range. I didn’t understand this, though I
was too busy between puking at drinking parties and getting stoned to
care. Gerald was particularly envious at the developments, and, having
the same classes as me, he had taken to walking next to me while
muttering “Look at all the Kiwis greeting you, it’s like everyone in
the school knows you!”
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. I had lots of
friends, too many things to do, and frequent dates with Kiwi girls,
something which was previously unheard of. I lost my virginity
(according to Bill Clinton’s definition of the word) to a girl named
Natalie. I heard that she likes me, and I would not be lying when I say
she is absolutely stunning. She’s a Kiwi girl of about 165 cm, with big
eyes, long brownish blond hair, and a breathtakingly amazing smile. I
didn’t take much notice of her before as she was one year younger than
We had days when we could wear anything to school, and before the
next time it happened, I asked to borrow her skirt, to wear to the
school as a stunt. I walked her home and she gave me her skirt. She
lives with her mom, who’s never at home in the afternoon and I spent
some time there, talking in her kitchen. She was obviously attracted to
me, and I suddenly realized what I could do, but I didn’t have
the self-confidence to do it right then. I just borrowed her skirt and
kissed her and went back home, telling her that I would call her.
I did call her…and asked her to be my girlfriend. She agreed. No
one had any problems with different race relationships, since I was
considered “one of them”. I was surprised though, that the ones who
were against it were the Asians in the school. I had apparently broken
some unspoken rule again, and virtually no Asian in the school talked
to me. I didn’t care though, I was on a mission – everyone I know
seemed to be sexually experienced (or claimed to be so) and I wasn’t
going to let this opportunity pass me by.
I wore Natalie’s skirt to school the next day, to the cheers of my
friends and to open insults from the Asians who liberally used the word
“sia soi” within hearing range. It means “bringing shame (to some
group)”. I didn’t care though. I had done my publicity stunt and she
was happy that I actually wore it like I said I would. I walked her
back again that day, and this time we talked in her bedroom, which I
remember is the first room from the living room.
We kissed…and started to touch each other. I was slipping my hand
up her bare thigh when suddenly, for no reason whatsoever, I felt my
raging member…fail me. My proud soldier, who was previously standing
at full attention, had fainted before action. My rod, transfigured into
a prune. A small prune. “What’s wrong?”, I remember her asking
as I suddenly stopped. I panicked and realized that I was only wearing
her skirt and I couldn’t let her know and in my adolescent clumsiness,
I made up an excuse about having to go somewhere with Sam and
practically ran out, fearing that the distinct lack of a tent in the
front of the skirt will give me away.
She called me that night and asked if I would walk her home again
the next day. I reluctantly agreed, fearing a repeat of my performance
(or the lack of it, rather). I thought about why I could not get Mr.
Happy to introduce himself and came up with several conclusions:
#1 I was worried that my size would be inadequate.
#2 I didn’t have any experience and I was worried that it would be obvious.
#3 I was afraid of contracting an STD.
I took off her skirt that night and found the sweet smelling hanky
(I don’t know what she dabbed it in, but I’ll recognize the scent right
away if I smell it again) she still had in her pocket. I tried
practicing – fantasizing about her, starting with what I would do
tomorrow when I walked her home. I found out that I could perform solo
quite adequately, and this was proved when I ejaculated into the bed
sheets after manually stimulating myself…and immediately regretted
it, coz it adds another one to the list:
#4 I was worried I won’t be able to get it up tomorrow coz I already had masturbated today.
It took a lot of stern talks to myself while facing the mirror to
prepare for tomorrow. I told myself after measuring (from the bottom)
that I wasn’t as under endowed as I think I am, and convinced myself
that I was average and even if I wasn’t, it won’t matter anyway, since
this is about the virgin, me (she told me she’s had a sexual partner
before, we did talk about sex, which was why I know tomorrow is going
to be the day). That’s #1 taken care off and I mentally struck it off
There was a problem with #2…I told her that I’ve had sexual
experience before too, when I actually hadn’t. I quickly took a crash
course in female anatomy from Ryan who was more than happy to sketch
this rough schematic of where the insertion point should be. I had read
many medical books about the female anatomy and also many non-medical
books depicting female genitalia, so I shouldn’t be worried, I told
myself. But I did double check with Ryan, just in case. I told myself
that all the porn and sex stories I’ve read would have to make up for
my lack of experience. Two down, two to go.
#3 was not really hard to get over, since hormones had more of a say
in my life then. I got some STD infection rates from a magazine and
calculated my chances (I was quite sure that the brand new calculator I
was given for school work was used for the first time then) and decided
that it was a low risk, considering the fact that she’s still 15* and
the rates of transmission were acceptable to warrant a tryst with a
girl of such aesthetic appeal.
* The legal age of consent is officially 16, but from my understanding
of the law, there is a provision which states it is NOT considered
statutory rape when consensual sexual intercourse happens between two people close
to the age of consent, even though one of the participants is
technically a minor, providing the age difference is not greater than
two years. It was only a couple of months in this case.
The bit about #4 was starting to worry me when I didn’t feel the
familiar blood rushing to the trouser snake when I forced myself to
have sexual fantasies the next morning…but resolved itself when I
jumped into the shower and my third leg stretched itself when the
shower water fell upon it. It was sorted then. I will not be nervous. I
will not chicken out. I will not let this opportunity where a beautiful
Kiwi girl is outright suggesting sexual intercourse pass me by. I shall
be a man, not a virgin, when I step back into this house, I told
myself. I can do it!
And I did. I must admit that it was a little disappointing though. I
had expected my first time having sex to be much more pleasurable than
all the climaxes of my 16 years of self-stimulation combined together
and multiplied by 10. I wanted fireworks, thunder, brimstone and
hellfire! I didn’t get that…in fact, I’ll admit that masturbating was
much more pleasurable compared to my first sexual experience. There was
nothing technically wrong with it, mind. It was just a case of rose
tinted sexual fantasies exposed to the harsh light of reality.
I walked Natalie home. We went to the bedroom and started kissing. I
started caressing her thigh. She went to her mom’s room and produced a
condom. I went down on her – I had wanted to taste her. This was a
mistake, because I had apparently broken some rule of sex which
dictates that breasts should be administered to before making a trip
down South. She later asked me if I didn’t find her breasts attractive.
I told her that she definitely has a nice pair of twins, it’s just my
habit to dine at the Y before eating melons.
But that’s digressing…anyway, after I had gotten her (shaved, but
you didn’t need to know that, I’m sure) beaver sufficiently wet, and
aroused, I took off my clothes, and thankfully, my trouser snake was
alive and well and eyeing the beaver hungrily. I applied the
prophylactic device and made penetration (it was harder than I thought)
after the second try. I didn’t realize how hard I had to push to get
in. I thought that it would be as easy as soap slipping out of clumsy
grips in the shower.
It was only after this that I began removing her sweater while we
assumed the missionary position. I had a hard time removing her bra,
damn those clasp thingies at the back. She helped me to remove the top
and I only managed to suck on her…well, nipples, I have run out of
euphemisms, before I started feeling tired. I was unprepared. I didn’t
know sex required so much energy compared to masturbation (which is
basically right arm movement). I decided to go make a trip down South
again to catch my breath.
It was during this time that I noticed that my trouser snake’s
sweater had slipped off. It was a day mired with unfortunate happenings
instead. I forced myself not to think about the ramifications and
concentrated on the figures and the low risk of transmission rate and
just put it back on. Anyway, after a little carpet munching (second
helpings never tastes right, due to the latex, if you get what I mean),
I noticed that she was about to come. I was glad that I was doing at
least something right, and I brought her to climax orally, moaning
softly. It seems that I was at least quite the cunning linguist, if not
She pulled me up and then smiled at me and told me to lie down
before returning the favor. I have to admit, it wasn’t as pleasurable
as I thought it was. Teeth. Not nice. It was a little more painful than
pleasant so I pulled her up and got her into the woman on top position.
She did the exertions this time and before long, I reached the apogee,
pulling her down as I did and kissing her. I immediately regretted
doing this, for the change in position made my member slip out when I
was only about 3/4 into my enjoyment.
I usually manually stimulate myself until the end of the ejaculation
so feeling a climax while not having constant friction towards the end
was a little strange and slightly disappointing. I couldn’t very well
jack myself off, so I conceded with rubbing against her thigh. I guess
being used to masturbation made the less customized movement of a
female a little less intense. However, I was glad that I had actually
done the deed and it was with her. 🙂
It just wasn’t what I expected, though I told her that I thoroughly
enjoyed it. She confirmed my linguistic capabilities and we hugged
while making post-coital talk. I told her I liked her hanky and she
told me I can have it. I did keep it for quite a long time, though the
last I saw of it was in a luggage back in Christchuch. What happened to
Natalie? Well, that’s just the thing, nothing happened. I realized that
I don’t actually love her, nor do I want a relationship with
her. We just didn’t have much in common. She doesn’t take drugs while I
do, so the relationship kinda petered out after a while.
There wasn’t a breakup or anything like that, we just slowly started
hanging out more and more with our own circle of friends until it was a
non-verbal but understood “just friends” thing. However, word about our
bedroom adventures did get out though, it was the school culture to
publicly broadcast such things. She told her friends and I told mine.
It was the topic of discussion for a while, before the next couple’s
exploits were related. I don’t know where she is now, but I still
remember her name and I have a tendency to automatically be friendly to
people called Natalie. I think it’s a nice name. I don’t consider her
my “first” girlfriend, since it basically just teenage hormones and
Like I said, it was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
Here’s where the latter comes in…my sister found out I was taking
drugs and told my parents and there was a lot of emotional blackmail,
downright threats, and intentions for them to come over. It’s all the
wrong things to say to a 16 year old. I told them I was legally an
adult here and didn’t need them, and didn’t want their financial
support. I drank heavily and made no effort to hide the fact that I was
pissed drunk even BEFORE going to school. People thought I was hard coz
I gulp down Bacardi straight before going to classes. I was just trying
to make a point. I told them I was going to move out of the home stay,
and I behaved in a manner that made the host extremely receptive to
I was openly smoking cannabis in my room with my friends. I made a
dollar here and there by “passing things on” to other people in the
school. I had loud arguments filled with obscenities with my parents.
The other tenants complained about the noise and the tobacco and
cannabis smoke coming out of my room. There was more arguments with my
parents with very nasty things said, which I now regret, including the
destruction of several phones in the house. I crashed at Sam’s place
some nights. I had speed (amphetamine) for the first time and I loved
it. It makes me aggressive and confident, which further exacerbated the
problems with my family. I took more and more drugs, just out of spite
and for the sake of rebelling against my family.
Like I said, I just wanted to make a point – attempt to control me
when I’m legally an adult here and I’ll do more things that goes
against your beliefs.
Thus, my steady relationship with drugs began…the sometimes
dangerous but irresistible dance that never ends. The partners have
changed through the times, and there is one that I wish I had never
danced with. Mesmerizing and seductive, she promised me the world…and
I believed her. The longer she holds me, the more certain I am that she
would never ever let me go until I can dance no more. However, as I
look into the eyes that looks lovingly back at me, silently telling me
that I can be all that I want to be, as long as I never let go…and
with that hypnotic assurance, I know that I don’t ever want her to
release her reassuring arms from around me, to break from this warm
embrace, weary as I am. Methamphetamine, my bride. Till death do us
Mais, si tu m’apprivoises, nous aurons besoin l’un de l’autre.
End of Black Kingdom: Chapter 4 – Veritas vos liberabit
Next: Black Kingdom: Chapter 5 – “Chink, go back home!” [sixthseal.com].
1. veritas vos liberabit is Latin for “The truth will set you free”.
2. Mais, si tu m’apprivoises, nous aurons besoin l’un de l’autre is a phrase from Le Petit Prince. It translates as “But, if you tame me, we shall need each other”.