Saturday, March 29, 2014

Typical Me I Started Something

Around midnight I was crossing the international bridge from El Paso to Juarez. The lights on either horizon flickered like yellow and emerald jewels as a light, gritty breeze blew. I huddled in my coat from the chill. Stragglers, undocumented hopefuls, drunks, and graveyard workers marched like ants on the other side of the bridge towards the States. Nearly over the edge to Juarez, I smiled at the Mexican custom agent, who didn't smile back and only waved me through. Suddenly, the night was broken from the guttural, desperate yell of someone calling out my name. I glanced over to the other side of the bridge.
I had met him at the shelter. Medium height, stocky with a prize-fighters physique. I had always thought of him as handsome but was wary to state it on our few exchanges of dialog in the soup lines. He came across as hopelessly heterosexual. He stood on the other side of the bridge smiling a great row of teeth but his forehead was wrinkled in exasperation.
"That bitch done stole my shoes!" He hollered.
"What?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.
He casually vaulted the concrete wall and timidly sauntered across the car lanes. He was wearing all black - black t-shirt, jeans, but his feet were only adorned in dirty white socks. "That bitch done stole my shoes!" He repeated comically. When he reached me he began, "Man, that fucking bitch stole my shoes!"
"I heard you the first two times. What happened. Other than that?" I asked, puffing on a cigarette. The Mexican customs officer looked away bored - la dee da.
"I wanted some pussy, so I came over here to j-town to get some. I found this fine bitch hanging out on the street. Damn she had a ass on her and titties for days. We went to a hotel and fucked. It was stupid! She was acting all fucking paranoid and shit."
"Maybe she was afraid of your dick." I quipped like a silly queen.
"Maybe. I don't like the fucking lube she used. It made my shit all itchy. Anyways, afterwards, I lay a twenty on the dresser and went into the bathroom, then - thwipt! - she was out the door and that hoe took my shoes when she left!"
"Did you cum at least?" I asked nonchalantly.
He gazed down at his sock wrapped twiddling toes in desperation, "No."
"Did you use a condom at least?" I asked with the air of a condescending mother.
"Mmm. Good. Look, I'm renting a room not too far from here. Maybe I have something that we can cover those feet in."
As he hobbled over the dusty, cracked and garbage littered sidewalks the two blocks to my sordid flat, he told me his feet size and we were compatible. Down the alley, up the steel staircase, turn the key in the lock - home. I switched on the light and smelled the stale, comfortable air. He entered and sat on the squeaking bed as I moved over to the closet and retrieved a pair of old boots that I didn't wear anymore. I handed them to him.
"There you go. Perfect fit." I grinned.
The boots were those just over the ankle ones with zippers on the sides. He looked at them on his feet. "Are these girls boots?"
"Funny." I said sarcastically. "Well, shouldn't you be getting back to the shelter? I know they at the shelter think you work until midnight. I don't want you to get in trouble and lose your bunk."
His blocky head glanced around the apartment - the rickety furniture, a sitting chair, sagging red couch, the television, and the piles of books splayed everywhere.
"Hey, can I stay here the night? I'm fucking beat. I can go back tomorrow and say I missed the bus."
I looked down at him and said, "Why not? As long as take a shower before you sleep. I don't want that bitches cooties or stink in my bed."
He laughed and said okay. I went into the kitchen and retrieved two beers as he undressed in the doorway of the small bathroom. The lights in the living room were out and the sole illumination came from the bathroom casting ominous shadows of him across the warped wood panelling of the main room. I tried hard not to gawk as he bent over and yanked down his boxers, tossing them onto the pile of rumpled clothing next to the sink.
"Afterwards, I have beer." I said lightly clearing my throat. "You want to watch a movie?"
He stood and asked blankly, "Got any porn?"
Well, that was to the point. "Of course." I said.
As he took a brief shower, I cued up the DVD player and sat on the bed. When he exited the bathroom, he was wearing nothing but his t-shirt, his frame silhouetted by the harsh bathroom light. He must've seen the look on my face - partly surprised, I knew him from his long tirades about his sexual conquests featuring the fairer sex - I did not realize he was bisexual. I guess prison does that to a man. Son cosas de le vida...
He glanced over at the television were some Asian girl was getting her money maker pumped by a tired looking middle-aged stud. "That bitch didn't even get me off. I'm still a little horny." When he said horny, his hand brushed against his flaccid penis.
I offered him his beer and he lay back on the bed. He took a sip and said, "Why don't you get undressed and ready for bed. It's late."
Don't have to ask me twice. I slid onto the sagging mattress in my underwear as we lay side by side propped up against the wall with pillows. We lay drinking, silent for a moment as the stupid, noisy sex scene rattled on. I watched as his penis moved in his pubes then extended out and up along his stomach. The foreskin covered the engorged head as a drop of precum formed at the tip. Finally, he mumbled, "Damn. You wanna help me with this? That bitch got me all hot and I gotta case of the blue balls."
Without word, I bent over and took his penis in my hand. I began sucking and pumping it with fervor as the raucous noise from the movie continued. After a bit, his feet extended and his breath quickened as he shot his cum across my tongue. I swallowed and continued sucking and pumping the rest of his warm juices out of his balls. He lightly pulled me off and pushed me back, "I'm done...done."He breathed. Smiling in the gloom, he laughed, "Damn, you're fucking good. Better'n any bitch I had."
"I'm a natural." I said as I swigged my beer.
"Hey man," He began. "Can you do me a favor?"
I internally winced. Oh God, he's going to ask for money. Which I didn't have. "Yeah, what?" I finally said.
"Don't tell anyone what we just did. I don't want people to know that I do this kind of shit."
"Not a problem."
"We cool?" He glared with a hint of menace.
"We cool."
He finished his beer and rolled over to sleep. I lay in the shadowed, coolness of my room staring at the stained ceiling. Next morning, I bought a light breakfast of donuts and coffee from a corner cafe and walked him to the border. We shook hands and I watched him make his way over the bridge. I never saw him again and I was appalled that I could not recall his name...

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