They Call Him Wiggins.

His half-naked, pale torso turned in the flickering cathode rays to switch the channels to view the various porn selections. The random grunts and slurps and groans of the movies filled the three by four video booth that we crammed ourselves into with sounds of random broken passions. I kneeled in front of him. Quivering in silent insect lust. His white hairless body blue from the video, towered above me, I glanced up at his angelic face. Khaki pants down around his knees, white shirt unbuttoned. Though he was twenty one, he had the slender athletic body of a sixteen year old. The personality also, unfortunately. Screechy and impudent. But, so hot. Classic Aryan facial features, he was the type that literary fags would write poems about..."Oh, thou doe eyed pouty-liped Grecian lad..." Except for those fucking ears that stuck out like two radar dishes, but it added to his cuteness, I digress.

So, like I said, I was kneeling like I was in confession preparing for the Second Coming with his seven incher sticking straight out erect and perfect with a little pearl of lubricant forming at the tip and I dove in for the attack. I sucked that pecker like my life depended on it and he got the bestest of the mostest I tell you, brother. The kid's finger kept flicking the dial and the channels switched faster and faster and I pumped and sucked and slid up and down and his knees buckled as his eyes glazed over with that dreamy look and a with a faint groan hot spurts of semen splashed down into my throat. As I wiped sweat from my brow, he collapsed onto the bench adjacent to the semen stained screen, his cock still hard and glistening. We went two more times around before that boy went limp.

Outside, we walked in the cold wind towards downtown Hell Pisso and smoked Lucky Strikes and joked and he screeched and yelled and jumped like a sixteen year old. Real fun cat, you dig. If yer into that thing, right? He wants to join the Job Corps, he says and become an upstanding citizen. What the fuck is that, I ask? He don't know. We cut into Bobo's China and chomp down on some Chinese buffet cuisine and he hits on the fifty year old Chinese woman that owns the place. Horny kid. Fuck anything. She giggles and teaches him some basic chink and he says he gets hot and I just roll my eyes and slurp my noodles. Pay the bill and cut.

We stroll through centro and I stare at him as he stares at all the chicks with their perky titties all pointing north with asses so fine. It turns me on to watch him cruise them girls, boys. "I got game." He keeps telling me. "My friend Chris, he don't got no game with girls. But, me, I got game." Strutting like a rooster for the girls that look back and giggle and I feel good walking with this stud. Whatchawannado comes up so we hit Juarez for kicks and since the funds are low we go to the Virgin Guadalupe festival at the Cathedral that my tranny friend Abel informed us about.

Cross the frontera and down the main drag, no don't want no taxi. Walked about and digged the scene. Fat whores, fat and nasty, smile with silver teeth under buzzing neon, fags giggle at us like devil fairies (The True Night's Heroes) as they stroll by, Aztec warriors dance the dance of ghosts and the cry of the Vatos fill the air. Girls eye the brown haired gringo that I'm with and he smiles back, he is really digging the scene. He goes ape shit over some broads big and shapely ass in some green jeans, she got the hint, but she ain't playing. After the fireworks, he complains of stomach cramps and I escort him back to the International Bridge. Stopping in a public pissoir he informs me that blood is spilling out fore and aft. Produces a blood soaked napkin as proof. Woah. We hurry across through customs and my white angel is looking pastier than usual. Coughing and holding his stomach, heartbeating a mile a minute. An ambulance is called and amid swirling red lights and choking yellow dust he is whisked away.

Goodbye, William Wiggins. It was fun.