Monday, February 20, 2012

Cigarette Smoke Goes Up.

Spent the evening across the border in Juarez, Mexico:

Walking through the Plaza in front of the Cathedral…the sun hot beating down on my pasty skin, eyes full of lusty tension meet and lose contact. Everyday dig a little it takes up the time…jack off phantoms whisper hot into the ear…Shoot your way to freedom. The sun creeps across the sky. Stop for a cold drink…some fruity concoction. Try to find some shade, but it is all taken up by bloated and wrinkled fucks gasping in the heat. The junky sits with needle poised to the message of blood and the con man palpitates the Mark with fingers of rotten ectoplasm…

A beautiful boy of eleven, thick black eyelashes and rosy cheeks sits in front of the fountain admiring the sculpture with an obese pedophile lurking nearby, bloodshot eyes burn behind black shades. He squeezes sad and tiny cock in sexual frustration. I find a hole on the long concrete bench between two old geriatrics and sit under the spreading chestnut tree and light up. Legs crossed, Wonka shades, black cotton button down summer shirt, blue jeans, black Kenneth Cole shoes; I am feeling it. I sit there puffing on my Lucky Strike with American Imperialism. Two young Mexican guys sit opposite me and size me up. I check them out through my Wonkavision and they both are quite the lookers. Poorer class, shabby clothes, dirty shoes, but still hot…who am I to judge? The two buy an ice cream from a vendor and make a show of sucking them so nasty.

The sun swings into midafternoon and the boy parade hits full force. For the entertainment of the turistas, the faux Aztecs have begun their daily show in front of the Cathedral, dancing amid the tribal thumping and drumming of the native muse. Waving away an army of shoeshine boys and candy vendors, this old humpback gash drops her bag between my feet and pulls out a bottle of water. In Spanish, I tell her I don’t want any which then brings her to wave it in my face. “Okay,” I say in Spanish, “How much?” In which she replies one dollar. I explain to her she must be outta her fuckin mind, because I can go into any shop and get a bottle of water for a quarter. She began looking around helplessly and bleating, “No intiendo!” (I don’t understand him!) Some hottie slid up to translate in which the price was negotiated to fifty cents and when I handed the old cunt a ten-peso piece of course the old gash didn’t have change. Withered old bitch. Cunt wobbled off cackling.

Well, said hottie introduces himself as Javier and we chit-chat and he asks obvious why-are-you-here-questions. I see that he has been drinking and invite him for a beer at Bar Buen Tiempo just around the block. This Javier is just my type: Dark copper skin, straight black hair parted down the middle, little pencil moustache, thick lips, amber eyes, thin, his face has those classic Indian features, high cheekbones, hawk like nose…whew!

We entered Bar Buen Tiempo and took a seat at the back of the bar. The cantina was sparsely populated with only three or four fags. The fat lesbo bar attendant gruffly asked for Javier’s identification, “Are you a National Citizen?” She snapped. Javier irritatingly and drunkenly fumbled for his identification in his backpack.

She looked at me and I smiled, “Do you want to see mine? I’m from Planet 10.”

After getting Javier’s papers in order, we drank two caguamas Carta Blanca’s and got a good buzz going. Javier had one hellava sense of humor and had me rolling with laughter. Deadly aphrodisiac, humor. Javier confided in me that he wasn’t Mexican after all, but was actually from Honduras. He was trying to cross the border to go live with his brother in Dallas, Texas. I also noticed that he kept checking out my ass every time he got up to go take a piss. And I mentioned this. “You have a nice ass, guero.” He smiled running his hand down my back to my ass. He flashes me a smile as I light up a cigarette, “So, what’s the deal?” He asks.

“Well,” I said, taking a long drag, “First we’re gonna finish our beers…then we’re gonna go to my hotel room and you’re gonna show me how many positions you know.”

Glug, glug, glug…that beer went quick. On second thought, I don’t think we finished them. Back through the Plaza, past the pigeon dung covered bronze bust of El Primo Benito Juarez, cut the corner of my street, past the Mexican Communist Headquarters (So ominous looking…so Orwellian.), turn the key lock, slam the door closed. Man, was his body hard and tight. Lips slid over lips, tongues wrestled, hands fumbled to get clothes off and the two of us jumped onto my queen size as Daddy Yankee thumped Rompe from the hi-fi. On top of me, Javier grinded his erection onto me as he bit and licked my shoulders and neck causing me to moan and gasp uncontrollably. I just let loose. My legs wrapped around his waist, I grabbed his head and said to him, “Whatever you want to do to me…my body is yours.” He shoved his tongue back into my mouth while reaching around and fingering my ass. He continued with his hand as he bit up my neck and he was driving me wild. Javier lifted my feet up over his shoulders, spit into his palm and lubed his penis up. Slowly he slid his thick cock into me, slow at first until he had it all the way in. Then he started to fuck me like I haven’t been fucked in some time. We lay on our sides and he got behind me and jabbing it in, Javier held my ribs as he thrust into me, kissing my back. “Aqui! Aqui!”, he gasped. And I felt the hot spurts of semen squirt into me as we both shivered to a climax.

Afterwards, we showered together, kissing under the hot spray. Dressing, Javier and I walked over to Burrito Row and had some burritos and Pepsi, talking of life in the United States and how he wants to get over there. I walked Javier to his bus stop and after shaking hands, said goodbye. I walked back to the Plaza and the night was cool and the stars were out. There was some hip kids sitting by the gazebo with a guitar singing Mexican folk songs, I sat there and listened. A couple of friends of mine showed up, Ignacio and Alfredo, and we strode over to Café Central for coffee and sweet bread and talked of movies, Che Guevara, deodorant, guys, and flying saucers. Yapped it up well past 3am. I really do miss living in Mexico...

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