Spring is in full swing down here in ol' Mexico. The air is warm, the sky is pleasant, and the boys saunter around half nekkid in pin-striped tank tops. They stroll with that macho swagger of machismo that drives pasty skinned gringo wild with passion.
I awoke with a fucking morning boner and attempted to relieve myself but I felt all shades of nasty because the neighborhood kid, he of only seven, was screeching outside my door playing with a young mate out on the sidewalk. Fine. I'll just go for some coffee and maybe cheesecake for breakfast.
Showered, dressed, and made my way past dusty, crumbling adobe buildings to Cafe 656. The street was already teeming with youthful vigor as doe-eyed, dark skinned men dashed to and fro in their various affairs. Hell, even the workers who had taken over a three block radius around the cafe re-constructing the streets seemed hot and secreting sexual pheromones for all to pine over. Sex hummed in the air like a Buddhists chant.
As I was coming to a corner, there was a lone car parked at the curb. I had that funny sense that I was being eyed. Indeed. As soon as I passed the car, the driver rolled down his window and called me by name. Holy shit! It was Rigo! I had not seen him in eight years! Rigo and I had an off again/on again romance during one of my stays in Juarez before. That ended when he attained his passport and high-tailed it to Santé Fe, New Mexico to be with family.
Like any whore, I leapt into the front seat and after a firm handshake followed a long, detailed conversation of what-ever-happened-to-so-and-so. For some giddy reason, Rigo decided to drive around as we caught up. I had to admit, the years had been good to him. He matured from a wild-eyed street urchin to a strapping young man. He stated that he was in Juarez visiting his mother, but he lived in Puerto Vallarta. He had a ranch or something. I said that was nice.
I mentioned that I was on the way to the cafe and invited Rigo for coffee and a light brunch. We sat in front of the large plate windows as the pedestrians busied themselves and the monstrous construction machinery chugged away beyond.
After a hearty convo over cheesecake about our mutual triumphs and foibles during the past eight years, there was nothing else to do but return to my place and sixty-nine for old times’ sake. His suggestion, not mine. Seriously. No lie.
I missed his penis. There are very few men I have met in my life in who I judge my attraction soly based on the beauty of their erect member. But, Rigo's is up there with high marks. I like the fact that, without even touching it, clear pre-cum constantly dribbles from the head, glistening like nectar. After a pleasing session of gulp-n-slurp in the coolness of my ratty trap, Rigo and I joked around and laughed at casual things. Then he got stupid. He asked if I would move to Puerto Vallarta and be his partner. Just like that. I croaked, "To quote Rosa Park...."No." I explained that the following Friday, I had already planned to go on a wacky road trip that will culminate in me settling on the island of Puerto Rico. He stated that it made him sad that I could never settle down or even wished to hold a long term relationship. I answered, "How do you think I feel? I'm the one who has to live with my decisions."
We showered together - much giggling I think my neighbor heard and didn't need to hear that faggoty shit - and afterwards I walked him to his car. Shaking hands and a brief hug later, Rigo was gone. I was feeling bitter sweet, because of all the people I have met, I really did like him. And now I lost him. Again.