Sunday, May 23, 2010

The Town and the City.

Last night the storm passed over The City and washed away the filth leaving lakes of smelly garbage. Old Indian women wrapped in grey rags against adobe wall. The rain fell in buckets. Into a dirty muddy taxi. Pablo and I raced through puddles of sewage to several small nightspots until we reached El Mansion. Small but obviously the spot. Rent Boys poised with hooked hips by the jukebox. Sugar Daddies flutter around them in a stylised ballet. Towering Drag Queens in The Darkness. Smokey with the red fireflies of cigarette cherries. Purple and red and yellow flashes fill the air sparkling off of the walled mirrors. Bodies gyrate and simulate fucking on the small dance floor. Danced and swirled and drank. Several heroes sided up to me and asked a million questions in a foreign language. I nodded and smiled with brown hands touching my arm, my leg, my face. Guapo. Mumbled several times like natives around a fire.
Beer flowed, conversations stuttered, words found and then lost in a disco beat. Entered the men's pissoir, was cruised only as Mexicans can. A foreign tongue hit its mark and was pushed against the white tiled wall and kissed with passion and hatred. Pablo enters and stopped the luche amor.
Drunk I was, tittering, dropping my beer, knocking over a chair. Still more alcohol was bought for me, seems I was the Guest of Honor. El Primo Faggito. Macho Rent Boy, hot with square jaw and Poncho Villa moustache the eyes alive with cocaine fire tapping my chest hard, "What ya want, gringo? Want my beeg dick, joto?" Only straight men say dick, fags say cock. Funny. I am jerked away by four hands onto the dance floor and showed 'em my moves. Doin' The Elaine--Ha! My pack of Lucky Strikes are emptied by begging hands and the beer flowed.
Stumbled out into the night, Pablo and some other wrapped around me giggling and talking in the dialect as we stomp through the rushing water. Flop into a booth in an all night food joint - neon arabesques flicking in purple - and I slouch down zonked into the booth, eyes fuck'd up, held up by Pablo. Or maybe his friend, who cares. Coffee is ordered for me and can I get a fucking cigarette, please? Chatting. Blah. Blah. I look at Pablo and Pablo looks at me and I place my hand behind his head and brings him near and our tongues touch. Tastes like coffee and cigarettes. Warm and wet. Pablo's friend - what the fuck ya say yer name was, cutie? Ah, yes, Manuel - Thank you. Wanna take turns on Pablo, I say in English, Manuel just shrugs and shakes his head, no intiendo. I like Nintendo, I say in English and Pablo tongue wrassles me some more and the waiter comes over and tells us to knock it off. Putos.
With a grunt of stripped gears the taxi (Driver mumbles pinche jotos) whirls away into the night, the three of us in the back seat. Me in the middle, Pablo embraces me and we kiss, as my wondering hand gropes Manuel's well endowment. Screech of old fucking tires in front of my hotel. A debate of what to do with this gringo. Manuel sinks into the seat, arms folded stare into the back of the driver seat, the cab is paid and takes off into the downpour with one sad Mexican.
Up three flights of tiled stairs, shoes sloshing, and slamming the door behind us. I pull my shirt off and lean on the wall as my pants are yanked down and I say, Fuck yeah. Pablo sucks my American cock like a champ. He stands and undresses his self, hard on poking out straight and free, I wrap my arms around his thin brown torso and we plop onto the bed. A rubber is applied as I rip open a small packet of lubricant. Lay onto my stomach. Pablo glides on top of me. Little bites on the back, fingers sucked. I grab the pillows as Pablo grabs my shoulders and lunges and thrusts. I grunt through clenched teeth as Pablo jacks me off from behind. Si, tu gusto, baby? The bed creaks and squeeks and boings and thumps, pillows fall onto the tiled floor and sheets and blankets are twisted as much as my body. Thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap-thwap his brown hips smack against my ass doggy-style and then Aiiiieee! He squirts his semen and lays there ontop of me kissing my back with his penis still in me for a long time. I roll over, still a little tipsy and we kiss and fall asleep, ass throbbing and sore.
Morning. Coffee in the corner shop and he goes to work. I sit in the Internet cafe and I watch him work. He keeps smiling. "What are you writing", he asks in Spanish, smiling his smile. "All is lost. All is lost. That is all I ever write", I say in English. No intiendo. Afterwards, I go to my feelthy hotel room and sleep.
Mexico is a dream.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"no intiendo. I like Nintendo"

"Only straight men say dick, fags say cock."

This is great.