Alcohol makes everything okay.

Sat in the bar scoping out the few hotties that sat around the old wooden counter. Some sullen and alone as only faggots can be, others in animated conversations with friends or tricks. Each of us had the all mighty caguama in front of us. I was feeling it - being my third one. I swear I am becoming an alcoholic.

The waitress and friend, Rosie - only cunt I ever had cared about - pointed out that Carlos, my flavor of the week was standing just outside the rotted swinging double doors - waiting. Waiting to talk with me. I uttered that it was a public bar and he could come inside if he wanted to talk. You see, we had an argument a couple of days ago and I suppose he thought I would be a simpering faggot squirming back to him for forgiveness. How little he knows this cold imperious homo, right?

So, he's standing out in the dust and the smog with the honking night traffic when finally Rosie beckons him to come inside. Meekly Carlos sits next to me - we shake hands. The wonderful thing about alcohol is that it has a tendency of making things better. We talked and drank and shot a few rounds of pool - all was okay again. As a fact, after I left the bar and stood in the lurking shadows of the dark street - Carlos followed me, I had the intention of going home alone. But looking into those beautiful brown eyes with the thick lashes - What the fuck?, I thought.

Back at my trap, Carlos was garrulous - going on about his wife and kid, family, general life of his.

"You gonna stay the night here - or you wanna go home?" I asked. "I am tired and want to sleep."

He optioned to stay and I commanded that he sleep in his boxers. Peeling off each others clothes we lay on the coverlet entwined like hibernating pythons. Kisses in the night turned into a massage. Rolled onto my stomach, Carlos smoothed away much needed tension - had to admit - the boy can give a mean massage. I reach up and brush against his erection in his boxers.

"Que es eso?" (What is this?) I say jokingly.

"Si sabes." (You know.) He smiles in the dark.

My boxers are pulled so slowly halfway down my legs and with saliva applied, Carlos slides in. He grunts and puffs lunging and thrusting into me before he yanks himself out and shoots his semen onto my ass. He plops down onto the bed next to me - still drunk out of his mind. My buzz still buzzing. Laughter. Pecks on the forehead and cheeks. Arms wrap around smooth brown frame.

We shower and dry and lay quiet in the warm darkness under the noise of the ceiling fan. Suddenly, Carlos bolts up and runs to the restroom and vomits loudly and abundantly into the toilet. Poor drunken kid.

He mentions it would be better if he went home and after borrowing taxi fare - we dress and I walk him to the taxi stand making a date to see him Saturday afternoon for a movie. In the musty warmth of the night, I stroll back to my my flat realizing I really am starting to care about that guy...