Woke up to the sounds of kids playing in the trash littered streets below. My third floor room has a grey concrete balcony covered in pigeon dung overlooking The Red Zone or Zona Norte, if you're a local. I sit on the ledge in my pajamas and drink horrible Victory coffee and smoke my last cigarette. It in itself withered to a butt.
The city sprawl before me is a bland colorful hazy polluted mess. Various musical styles permeate the choked yellow sky. Lights keep changing, there are wires in the air and the asphalt, the asphalt is all around me. The ever present moaning of a transvestite hooker getting fucked down the hall echoes in my head. Shrivel in the cold shower and don my clothes and take a stroll two blocks to the Plaza and sit in with Chuck for breakfast. Orange juice and sweet bread followed by the best coffee…ever.
After banal chatter, made my way to The Hawaiian Bar to pay visit to my oldest and bestest friend in T.J.; a short guy by the name of Chuey. I have known Chuey forever and after much backslapping, handshakes, and six cervezas later I relate my woes to a kind ear. No big whoop, I say...time will sort all out. As always, Chuey kindles my hopes with uplifting patter.
After explaining some where abouts of a couple of bathhouses to some haughty queens from Los Angeles looking for a quick lay, I drunkenly wobble out of the cantina and down into the heart of Zona Norte, cabrone.
Preteen hookers coo and grab at me as I stroll by lost in the sauce - no...no cunt for me. I am out on the hunt for some rough tattooed sex. Cause that’s the way I like them - always been a sucker for the bad boy. Chuey recommended that I hang out in front of the Tijuana jail. Now there's a thought.
I am stopped by a taxi driver that reminded me of a Mexican Yoda. I remember him; he once stated that he has the biggest pussy in Tijuana. His brother sat next to him nibbling a taco. A scrawny ancient little man in a black police uniform. With that fucking white police motorcycle helmet on his enlarged head he looked like Gazoo. Which I stated. Thought it was funny. He didn’t.
Pretty fucked up, I needed to get more juice, so's I go into some bar. El Dorado? The Happy Naco? Bar Vaquero? Who cares? Smelly dark den with pink coral tiled walls and some short chunky bee-otch in a black thong whirling and jiggling her wares in front of me. Bar had only two others, junky cholo who sat on the nod like a fool on a stool and a flabby old sweaty American who eyed me fingering his camera ever so nasty.
A tall Mexican hottie with Aztec features and pencil moustache donning a blue mechanic's tunic walked in and made a bee line to the men’s room in the back. A couple of Sols later, it was on like Donkey Kong. I am in the pissoir jacking off with the hot guy in the mechanics uniform and the obligatory old fart. The hottie had the most beautiful of peni I have seen in many a moon. One hand on my soldier the other traces the black hair on toned pecs. Me and the hottie cum in spurts onto lemons and ice and leave the quivering codger standing there wondering where his youth has gone.
The hottie, Miguel he says, we drink a couple more bottles and I ask if he wants to go back to my room for an afternoon of filthy rotten sin. No, it’s back with the wifie and kids, he says. Shake hands and part. Old queen glares at me from the shadows. Frustrated fruit. Short cholo with shaved head and wife beater is hip to the fact and smiles with silver capped tooth, hard on a-pulsing in the dirty khakis. I exit - leaving the cholo to the whims of the withered vampire.
The city sprawl before me is a bland colorful hazy polluted mess. Various musical styles permeate the choked yellow sky. Lights keep changing, there are wires in the air and the asphalt, the asphalt is all around me. The ever present moaning of a transvestite hooker getting fucked down the hall echoes in my head. Shrivel in the cold shower and don my clothes and take a stroll two blocks to the Plaza and sit in with Chuck for breakfast. Orange juice and sweet bread followed by the best coffee…ever.
After banal chatter, made my way to The Hawaiian Bar to pay visit to my oldest and bestest friend in T.J.; a short guy by the name of Chuey. I have known Chuey forever and after much backslapping, handshakes, and six cervezas later I relate my woes to a kind ear. No big whoop, I say...time will sort all out. As always, Chuey kindles my hopes with uplifting patter.
After explaining some where abouts of a couple of bathhouses to some haughty queens from Los Angeles looking for a quick lay, I drunkenly wobble out of the cantina and down into the heart of Zona Norte, cabrone.
Preteen hookers coo and grab at me as I stroll by lost in the sauce - no...no cunt for me. I am out on the hunt for some rough tattooed sex. Cause that’s the way I like them - always been a sucker for the bad boy. Chuey recommended that I hang out in front of the Tijuana jail. Now there's a thought.
I am stopped by a taxi driver that reminded me of a Mexican Yoda. I remember him; he once stated that he has the biggest pussy in Tijuana. His brother sat next to him nibbling a taco. A scrawny ancient little man in a black police uniform. With that fucking white police motorcycle helmet on his enlarged head he looked like Gazoo. Which I stated. Thought it was funny. He didn’t.
Pretty fucked up, I needed to get more juice, so's I go into some bar. El Dorado? The Happy Naco? Bar Vaquero? Who cares? Smelly dark den with pink coral tiled walls and some short chunky bee-otch in a black thong whirling and jiggling her wares in front of me. Bar had only two others, junky cholo who sat on the nod like a fool on a stool and a flabby old sweaty American who eyed me fingering his camera ever so nasty.
A tall Mexican hottie with Aztec features and pencil moustache donning a blue mechanic's tunic walked in and made a bee line to the men’s room in the back. A couple of Sols later, it was on like Donkey Kong. I am in the pissoir jacking off with the hot guy in the mechanics uniform and the obligatory old fart. The hottie had the most beautiful of peni I have seen in many a moon. One hand on my soldier the other traces the black hair on toned pecs. Me and the hottie cum in spurts onto lemons and ice and leave the quivering codger standing there wondering where his youth has gone.
The hottie, Miguel he says, we drink a couple more bottles and I ask if he wants to go back to my room for an afternoon of filthy rotten sin. No, it’s back with the wifie and kids, he says. Shake hands and part. Old queen glares at me from the shadows. Frustrated fruit. Short cholo with shaved head and wife beater is hip to the fact and smiles with silver capped tooth, hard on a-pulsing in the dirty khakis. I exit - leaving the cholo to the whims of the withered vampire.
Walking through the Plaza under the Arch to the 2nd street Internet cafe, that hub of homosexual intellects and purveyors of porn, I was approached by this horrendous prostitute. Hair a rats nest, face of a battle axe, drooping, floppy boobies in a dirty black tube top, flab spilling out of her black caprice and dirty bare feet. She smelt like baloney and farts.
“Hey, baby!” She blurted in English. Obviously a junky American. “Wanna little fucky-sucky?”
“No. You need to go back to the States and reevaluate your life.” Was my deadpan reply.
“You think I'm ugly, baby, huh?” She said earnestly.
“No. Not exactly. I think you're...well, you're special.”
She smiled a smile filled with rotted brown teeth, “Thank ya, honey!” And wobbled back to the Coahuila Alley.
My life can't be all that bad, reet?
“Hey, baby!” She blurted in English. Obviously a junky American. “Wanna little fucky-sucky?”
“No. You need to go back to the States and reevaluate your life.” Was my deadpan reply.
“You think I'm ugly, baby, huh?” She said earnestly.
“No. Not exactly. I think you're...well, you're special.”
She smiled a smile filled with rotted brown teeth, “Thank ya, honey!” And wobbled back to the Coahuila Alley.
My life can't be all that bad, reet?
3 comments:
I've come up with a way to finance your European book tour! 'Gay Tijuana Sex Tour - Safe & Friendly' ad on craigslist! Meet them at the McDonald's at the border and take their $100 cash and show them the ins and outs of the TJ scene...if you got small groups then it would add up fast!
he's right, you know--but i told you that long ago.
I realise that - but, I am a procrastanator at heart...
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