Luis With the Lid Off.

Gargantuan monumental clouds drift across startling blue skies that sear your retinas - I lay on my yellow and green beach towel I picked up at a shop in Miami from the cutest Cuban I had ever seen - Anyway, the beach...sipping a fruit drink out of a coconut husk - felt quite relaxed, but a fish outta water, understand. The sea was flat as glass - the blue on blue horizon blended into each other and around back again.

I rolled over onto my stomach to tan this lily white hide of mine and to watch the Cuban futbol players about 30 yards away. All handsome and viciously heterosexual. Every time a bikini clad broad wound walk by they would literally masturbate at her. One dark one caught my eye and he played with such animal ferocity.
Obviously the alpha male, I thought.
The sun was suddenly blocked and I swung my Wonkas upward to see a Latin guy standing over me smiling. Tall and skinny with some sort of tribal tattoo across his left shoulder. "Is anybody lying here?" He mumbled, pointing to a spot about three feet away.
To you land locked fuckers that aren't in the know - the beaches of Key West are outlandishly small and 80 per cent covered in stinking sea weed. So, there isn't much space to lounge a crowd - not like the shoulder to shoulder beaches of the West Coast.
Hence, his inquiry.
"No - not at all." I said grinning back, waving towards the spot.
He flung down his lime green towel and lay there for a minute. Rummaging through his back pack he pulls out a bottle of tanning oil and began to slather it all over that delicious toned body. Thick black hairs on his thick legs, a happy trail leading down his blue swim trunks. Black hair on a well developed chest and a goatee. His curlyish hair was under a cap but was shoulder length and his eyes were hidden behind aviator glasses. After he oiled himself up, he lay there as macho as possible, propped up on elbows - sizzling in the sun.
"Hot today, huh?" He said with that smile again.
We struck up a conversation - about the island, the weather, the ocean, how I got here, how he got here. He invited me out to swim and we splashed around in the soothing Caribbean sea under that shining silver sun for a couple of hours. He said his name was Paul and was visiting from Tallahassee with his relatives. Damn! What a wide smile that guy had! Heated me swim trunks to stare at him.
Adjacent to the beach was a trail through the nature preserve - a smelly bog actually, infested by mosquitoes and small lizards and miniature crabs - Paul asked if I wanted to see it - I had never been there. I jokingly stated that I hated nature.
"You stand long enough in it, something will shit on you." I quipped. He laughed at that one.
Deep in the woods we had found two fallen coconut trees tied together with rope to make a crude bench - sat there and talked of things as the sun swung around. Paul took a fifth of vodka out of his bag and we passed it back and forth - dubious swigs among faceless friends, I suppose. Suddenly, with one arm, Paul flung me back wards onto the soft peat moss and pinned me down by lying on top. His unreadable eyes behind those glasses - that serious look on his face. I knew this was it, I was being robbed.
"What are you, man?" He breathed - face two inches from mine.
"What?" I groaned. My back hurt a bit from that fall.
"What are you - the man or the woman?"
I blinked in disbelief, staring up at him, "Well, you're the judo expert - you tell me."
"Do you like to kiss?" His voice to a whisper.
"Only the ones I like." I said and that ended with his tongue scrubbing the inside of my mouth.
With the humidity, our bodies were already glistening in sweat - white hand slid down dark shiny torso - perspiration drips off of him onto me, mixing with my wetness. Paul grinds up and down - our organs began stiffening through our shorts. With obvious expertise in these matters, Paul flung his trunks off with one gesture - his short uncut erection popping free, standing straight out. Shiny black pubic hair dappled by the rays through the palm trees. He looked around momentarily cautiously, then grabbed the back of my head and jabbed his cock into my mouth. Thrusting with gaining speed - saliva dripping out of my mouth, down the chin, onto my chest - rhythmic pumping faster and faster. Paul yanks his cock out and whacks it across my up lifted face, cheek, forehead - slap!slap!slap! - shoves it back into my wet mouth and continues pumping. I felt his cock throb and expand and after a few minutes of this - he grunted and let loose a big load of semen - splashing across my tongue, down my throat. He wiped himself on his towel and mumbled something as he put back on his shorts before clearing out of the bush.
Moments pass of silence - the only noise from the swaying ocean. I lay there alone, reach into my bag and pull out a cigarette and I thought, I need a drink.
I walked down Duval Street - Key West's main drag past the flabby sweaty tourist and arrogant king pins that waddled in this humid heat - and took a seat at the patio bar La Te Da, a queer establishment that obviously caters to the Keys hoity toity fag set. I ordered a coconut rum and coke and sat watching the parade of bodies on the side walk. And I thought - this really isn't my scene. Buncha rich squares. I drifted off into plans of my next port of call and I know what it shall be - Colonia La Perla on the Island of Puerto Rico. La Perla is the notorious slum of San Juan -rumored to be their City of God - and has a large writing community, gay artists, and bums like me...