Voyueristic Intensions

Spent the afternoon in Cuidad Juarez, Mexico.

Ah, yes - Juarez. It has finally become a burned out cinder - a literal, beat ghost of it's formal self. The wild and woolly heyday that I previously lived had been put on a bloody hiatus.

Before I left that morning, the Stateside news droned on about more cops being killed, pedestrians shot for no reason in the streets. One unfortunate paleta seller witnessed a gang of cartel pull up to a car on a busy street and spray all within with machine guns. When said seller pulled out his cellphone to call perhaps relatives, the gang thought he might had been calling the cops and filled him full of lead. A ver...

So, myself trudging over the International Bridge in gusty heat - wind whipped plastic trash bags that snagged on razor wire fences causing horrible noise. I dodged flabby locals and begging junkies as I eventually passed the bored and uninterested Mexican custom agent. I met my friend Eduardo waiting for me on the other side all decked out and handsome in his vaquero gear. Old friend, new him for years. He had a wife and two kids but was up for some filthy homo-buggery now and again. Never met a Mexican that wasn't.

He was glad to see me and I him - it had been far to long that we had trolled the Red Zone together. After fist bumps and howdy's, we darted over to the El Paso bar strictly from thirst. Stomping along Mariscal - the whore district - you could smell the tension mingled with rotting garbage and urine. The fact that shocked and depressed me the most that all - ALL! - the places I used to haunt are now gone. Not vacant buildings replaced by other businesses - but, vast dusty lots - even the rubble had been cleared. Fausto's, El Arbolito, Nebraska bar, Freegay, Rex's billiards, Hollywood bar - all gone. Sigh.

I gawked in beat sadness as the hookers of both sexes huddled in the shade of crumbled walls of what was once majestic and quite popular whorehouses - sorry, I mean strip joints. They all looked so sad, so lost - dusty relics with no clients strictly from fear. Even their clothes of calling - bright yellows, pinks, blues - faded in that horrid, unrelenting desert sun.

The El Paso bar is a small joint run by a fat hag with a mean streak. Never ask for credit - bitch will shank you. Long bar with red topped stools a few dented, metal tables occupied by bored-looking hookers and a mix of locals and loud Americans. Eduardo and I sat at the bar and ordered Tecates. The jukebox wailed ranchero as the sun swung around and all just sat mostly silent, sweating in the heat.

Two girls slinked up to us, both short, big tits, fat asses, thin waist (which is rare) - flirting and grinding their wares onto us - I, of course politely declined, yet Eduardo was being his macho ass self. So, under Eduardo's plea - bought the broads a drink and invited them to stay.

The two girls who sat with us were actually nice and I had to admit they were very pretty. Alma, the shorter of the two - she held copper skin and an indigenous face - Alma talked to me and was very amused when I stated that I liked men. She actually became friendlier and we hit it off. Eduardo and his girl, Clarissa - long black shiny hair and her boobs always seemed to want to bust out her blue dress - sat together, arms draped around each other. I noticed every single time her hand dropped down and squeezed Eduardo's cock. I wonder what she would say to the fact that I had sucked that fucker a few times before?

Side note: Any of you straight guys want to easily score with women? Invite a gay to come with you. We are pussy magnets. Trust me on this. You get hit on far more than usual and you don't have to worry about competition from your gay friend. Win win.

The beer flowed and Alma and I sat giggling and talking of men. She was actually really funny. I started interviewing her on her job - she related stories about some interesting men met in her career. She came from Mexico City when she was twelve and her aunt was the one that pimped her out. I love family. I related some of my crazy adventures - even pulled out a dogged copy of a novel I was working on. She shyly stated she couldn't read.

Eventually, Alma slipped a small paper in my hand and said, "It's for you, guedo." I knew what it was and leaned over to Eduardo, said into his ear, "Hey, man - this chick just handed me some coke. Follow me into the bathroom."

Nothing in this world is free, of course - I slapped a ten into Alma's hand as I slid off my stool, "Don't you go nowhere, we'll be right back."

Eduardo and I walked into the dingy, foul smelling mensroom. At the long piss trough, some old fat fucker had his dork out staring at us as we huddled in the corner. Rolled up a twenty-peso note and snorted that junk up.

We got back to the bar all twinkly-eyed and shit. Eduardo, Alma, Clarissa, and I sat and laughed and joked. Drank and got pretty happy. It was a good, drama-free time spent.

However, it was getting late and I surely did not want to be in Juarez walking back to the border at night - not in this part of town. I mentioned to Eduardo that I needed to get going.

"No wait." He said. "Come with me."

I followed Eduardo into the back of the bar and up some stairs. The short, dingy hall was lined with wooden doors. From a couple of rooms came the muffled banging of a bed and distinct moaning of a hooker making that rent.

Nice. I thought, A whorehouse.

A thin old man in a bow tie and white shirt approached us. Eduardo and he gabbed in Spanish a bit as Eduardo slapped 200 pesos into his hand. The old man took a ring of keys from his belt and ushered us to a door.

Drunkenly, we went into the room - which consisted of a ratty, sagging bed and a nightstand along with the wafting mildew smell of a million fucked vaginas. The old man took off as where as Eduardo began pealing off his clothes and lay on the bed. As he yanked his blue man-panties off, he was already hard and rarin' to go! Damn, he looked fucking good! Sprawled out on the bed fully aroused, he was nice enough to let me snap a picture of him.

Suddenly, Clarissa came in as Eduardo said, "We got some business, guedo. You want to wait outside?"

Damn! I though I was were going to get some!

Shut the door behind me and waited in the hall.

Alma approached smiling, "You're friend is busy?"

"Yeah. Lucky fucker." I said.

She put a finger up to her lips and took my hand, leading me to a small alcove. She pointed to a slit in the wall. When I looked, it was a pretty good view into Eduardo's room. I stood and watched as Eduardo tussle in pre-coital grope with the hooker he had purchased.

Alma's hand slid a small hand across the erection in my jeans. I kindly pushed her hand aside.

"You sure you don't like girls?" she whispered.

"Definitely." I smiled.

"Wait here." She smiled.

Two minutes later, she comes back with a tall, lanky guy in his midtwenties. I grinned at him, looking the boy over. Not bad.

"Have fun." She smiled and walked away.

The guy glanced through the slit in the wall, sucking air between his teeth and mumbled something in Spanish. He pointed at the hole for me to watch. I did as he squat down in front of me, unzipped my pants, and sucked my erection like his life depended on it.

I stood there watching Eduardo - a sweaty mess pumping his gorgeous cock into that whore, he thrust and lunged as she squirmed, grabbing his slender ass. She threw her feet up onto his shoulders as he banged her harder. I couldn't take both the awesome visuals and that guy sliding his lips and tongue up and down my dick - I blew my load into his mouth. He leaned over and spat the matter onto the dusty, warped, wooden floor. As I zipped up my pants, he asked in Spanish for ten dollars. I reached in my wallet and pulled out a twenty,

"Ten for you and ten for Alma, okay?"

Before leaving, he hit me up for five more. Sure, why not. Boy's gotta make rent, right?

He slinked off and I turned back to the hole - my friend was pounding fast like a rabbit, he grunted, then slid his dick out as sperm dribbled out of her pussy and spilling down, pooled onto the bed.

"Fuckin' A!" I whispered.

I walked back to the hall and lit a cigarette.

Eventually, Eduardo came out of the room, dressed but dripping from sweat, "You ready? I'll walk you back to the border."

As we were walking through the bar, we said our adios's - Alma sat at the bar smiling with her friend that blew me. She gave me a hug, while rubbing my back, asked, "When you coming back?"

"This weekend." I lied.

Eduardo and I quickly strode through those darkening, mean streets littered among piles of garbage the grasping hands of clawing hookers, dodging police patrols and rumbling paramilitary vehicles - angry brown eyes under black ski masks eyed us as the troops fingered their Ak-47's.

At the international bridge, I said my goodbye to my old friend and darted over that long stretch under a twinkling navy sky. Damn, I miss Juarez...