Spring is in full swing down here in ol' Mexico. The air is
warm, the sky is pleasant, and the boys saunter around half nekkid in pin-striped
tank tops. They stroll with that macho swagger of machismo that drives pasty
skinned gringo wild with passion.
I awoke with a fucking morning boner and attempted to relieve
myself but I felt all shades of nasty because the neighborhood kid, he of only
seven, was screeching outside my door playing with a young mate out on the
sidewalk. Fine. I'll just go for some coffee and maybe cheesecake for
breakfast.
Showered, dressed, and made my way past dusty, crumbling
adobe buildings to Cafe 656. The street was already teeming with youthful vigor
as doe-eyed, dark skinned men dashed to and fro in their various affairs. Hell,
even the workers who had taken over a three block radius around the cafe
re-constructing the streets seemed hot and secreting sexual pheromones for all
to pine over. Sex hummed in the air like a Buddhists chant.
As I was coming to a corner, there was a lone car parked at
the curb. I had that funny sense that I was being eyed. Indeed. As soon as I
passed the car, the driver rolled down his window and called me by name. Holy
shit! It was Rigo! I had not seen him in eight years! Rigo and I had an off
again/on again romance during one of my stays in Juarez before. That ended when
he attained his passport and high-tailed it to Santé Fe, New Mexico to be with
family.
Like any whore, I leapt into the front seat and after a firm
handshake followed a long, detailed conversation of what-ever-happened-to-so-and-so.
For some giddy reason, Rigo decided to drive around as we caught up. I had to
admit, the years had been good to him. He matured from a wild-eyed street
urchin to a strapping young man. He stated that he was in Juarez visiting his
mother, but he lived in Puerto Vallarta. He had a ranch or something. I said
that was nice.
I mentioned that I was on the way to the cafe and invited
Rigo for coffee and a light brunch. We sat in front of the large plate windows
as the pedestrians busied themselves and the monstrous construction machinery
chugged away beyond.
After a hearty convo over cheesecake about our mutual
triumphs and foibles during the past eight years, there was nothing else to do
but return to my place and sixty-nine for old times’ sake. His suggestion, not
mine. Seriously. No lie.
I missed his penis. There are very few men I have met in my life in who I judge my attraction soly based on the beauty of their erect member. But, Rigo's is up there with high marks. I like the fact that, without even touching it, clear pre-cum constantly dribbles from the head, glistening like nectar. After a pleasing session of gulp-n-slurp in the coolness of
my ratty trap, Rigo and I joked around and laughed at casual things. Then he
got stupid. He asked if I would move to Puerto Vallarta and be his partner.
Just like that. I croaked, "To quote Rosa Park...."No." I
explained that the following Friday, I had already planned to go on a wacky
road trip that will culminate in me settling on the island of Puerto Rico. He
stated that it made him sad that I could never settle down or even wished to
hold a long term relationship. I answered, "How do you think I feel? I'm
the one who has to live with my decisions."
We showered together - much giggling I think my neighbor
heard and didn't need to hear that faggoty shit - and afterwards I walked him
to his car. Shaking hands and a brief hug later, Rigo was gone. I was feeling
bitter sweet, because of all the people I have met, I really did like him. And
now I lost him. Again.
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