WARNING: The following material contains depictions of explicit sexual activity. If the laws of your jurisdiction do not permit you to view such material, please leave here at once and go to where you can learn how to work to change the laws of your jurisdiction. If you are offended by such material, please seek psychiatric counseling to discuss why you are here in the first place.
On the other hand, if you simply don't care for the type of material indicated by the story codes, well, have a nice day.
gay, beginnings, interracial, teens
DISCLAIMER: The following is entirely a work of fiction. All of the parts in this drama are portrayed by mature actors who are masters of makeup and disguise.
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Chapter 2
The knocking grew louder and more insistent. I crawled out of bed and unlocked the door. Naked, I opened it a crack and peeped around it. My pop was standing in his pajamas. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he said. "Meet us in the breakfast room in half an hour."
I showered off the sticky stuff on my belly and the sweat from last night's dancing and dressed in my jeans and a clean T-shirt. Combed my hair carefully, wanting to look good for Pablo. Brushed my teeth to minty freshness and made my way to the dining room.
"Yes please," I said to the young man with a pot of coffee. Yesterday he was just a blob. Today he was handsome, though no competition for Pablo. Gosh. Did I sleep through my first sixteen years?
I went to the buffet and picked a plateful of standard American breakfast foods. I would eat anything Pablo put in front of me, but I wasn't ready to experiment on my own yet.
My parents wanted to hear all about the fiesta. I told them I had met a local boy and we had shared a pitcher of fruit juice and some bean dip. I even told them about the dancing. They were thrilled to hear I had immersed myself in the local culture. I left out the part where I had almost drowned in it.
When we left the restaurant I saw Pablo sitting in a chair in the lobby. "There's my friend," I called to my parents as I dashed over to meet him.
"Oh, Pablo!" I cried. "What happened?"
His left eye was shut, surrounded by an ugly dark bruise. There was a scab on his upper lip from a deep cut, and rusty spots of dried blood on his collar and the side of his white shirt. To my disappointment, his shirt was buttoned and tucked in to his trousers today.
"He was very angry," said Pablo. "The guy was going to pay 4,000 pesos for you."
"And he beat you up?" I asked.
"He got in a couple of punches before I broke loose and ran away. I slept in the park last night."
"Oh Pablo," I said, "I'm so sorry. I wish you could have just stayed in my room."
"Well, maybe someday," he said. "Alan, I'm sorry to ask you this, but I need to get out of here and go to Mexico City. Could you possibly let me have 200 pesos to take the bus?"
"Yes, sure, Pablo," I said. "Come to my room with me and help me pack my bag and I'll give it to you."
"Are those your parents looking at me like I came from outer space?", he asked.
"Yes," I said. I couldn't help but smile.
"Don't say anything," he said. "Let me do the talking. I'm a much better liar than you are."
"Come on, then," I said.
I led him over to my folks. "Mom, Pop, this is my friend, Pablo," I introduced him. "Pablo, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser."
"Tengo mucho gusto," said Pablo, flashing his brightest smile.
"Nice to meet you, Pablo," said my mom, wearing a look of motherly concern. "What happened to your face?"
Pablo said, "After Alan left, I was talking to a pretty girl, and her boyfriend came back and was very angry with me. He was much bigger than I, so I had to run away."
"Can you see out of that eye?" my pop asked him.
Pablo lifted his lid and peeped out and winced. "It works, but it hurts," he said. "Such things happen. Probably it will be all right tomorrow."
I figured Pablo the storyteller had worked long enough for now. "Come on, Pablo," I said. "We have to go soon. You can help me pack."
"All right, boys," said my pop. "Be back here in the lobby in ten minutes."
"OK, Pop," I said as I led Pablo away.
We went into my room and I locked the door. In an instant we were in each others arms and our lips were together. I felt his scab and realized I couldn't kiss him with all the passion I felt, so I just nibbled on his lower lip. After about a minute, I tried to drag Pablo toward the bed, but he resisted.
"No time for that now," he said.
He looked in the mirror. "Oh!" he said. "I didn't see the blood. No wonder your parents looked at me strangely. You pack and I'll try to wash it off."
Pablo stripped off his shirt and turned on the water in the basin. He started to rub the bloodstained spots with soap. He looked so good without his shirt that I pressed myself against his back and wrapped my arms around him. I rubbed his chest and nibbled his neck until he turned his head and pecked me on the cheek.
"Let go of me," he said, laughing. "Go pack before your father comes to see why we are late."
I grabbed my dirty clothes from a drawer and stuffed them into a mesh bag. Then I rounded up my toilet articles and put everything in my carry-on and zipped it shut.
Pablo was finished washing and ready to put his shirt back on. While he buttoned it I saw that the rusty spots had been reduced to faint pink smears in the middle of the damp areas. I watched with great interest when he opened his trousers to tuck in his shirt. It was the first time I had seen his underwear. A nice bulge stretched the front of his bright red bikini briefs.
I pulled out my wallet and fished out a couple of 100 peso notes and handed them to Pablo. He stuffed them into a pocket and then stepped forward and gave me a soft, sloppy wet kiss.
"Thank you so much, Alan," he said. "I think you have saved my life."
"Well, I owe you, Pablo," I said. "You saved me last night."
"We'll just have to keep on looking out for each other, amor mio," he said.
"It's time to go now," I said. "I need to pee."
"Me too," said Pablo.
We sent side by side streams into the bowl in the bathroom. It was the first time I had seen Pablo's cock and it was beautiful. Darker than his skin, it had a wrinkled covering. Mine had been cut off when I was a baby.
We shook them together, and watched each other lengthen.
"It's beautiful, Alan," he said.
I reached to touch Pablo and he quickly stuffed it into his trousers.
"No time for that," he said.
We went into the other room and Pablo picked up my bag. I didn't want to leave him.
"Pablo," I said, "we're going to Guanajuato today. Why don't you come with us? You can catch a bus from there, and that would be safer than waiting around here. And it would be fun to ride together in the car."
I looked at him expectantly. It took him only a moment to decide.
"That would be great, Alan," he said. "Leave it to me to explain to your parents why I want to go there. OK?"
"OK," I said. "Let's go."
We paused for a quick kiss and then joined my parents in the lobby.
"Mom! Pop!" I said excitedly. "Pablo needs to go to Guanajuato. Can he ride along with us? Please."
"Why are you going to Guanajuato, Pablo?" my mom asked.
"I just came to San Miguel to visit my grandmother, Senora," said Pablo. "Now I am going home to my mother in Guanajuato. I will be very grateful if I don't have to pay for a bus ticket."
It was perfect. I knew Mom and Pop would want to help out a poor third world boy. They would never have a clue about what life for him was really like.
"You'll be welcome to ride with us, Pablo," said my pop. "I'm sure Alan will be glad to have your company."
"Muchas gracias, Senor Fraser," said Pablo. "Thank you so much."
It was settled. We carried the bags to the car and Pablo and I climbed into the back seat. Pop had directions from the hotel desk and we were on our way.
I sat tight against Pablo while we looked out the window, spotting horses in pastures and admiring the lake and the distant mountains that ringed the central valley of Mexico. The rolling farm country was very pretty.
Our car dove into the maze of tunnel roads that wind like ant trails beneath the city of Guanajuato. Mom the navigator led Pop the driver up the correct escape hole to find our hotel. We checked in, and Pablo and I found time for another minute of kissing and a second cock inspection over the toilet bowl. He still wouldn't let me touch it.
There was time before lunch for a bit of touring. The desk told Pop how to find the funicular railway. Pablo and I pressed ourselves against the window at the bottom of the tram car. Mom and Pop stood behind us and Pablo pointed out the sights as we ascended to the top of a hill.
The view was spectacular. Pablo told us how colonial Guanajuato used to be the world's largest producer of silver, and pointed out some of the mining structures that remained on the hillsides. I held tight to Pablo and pressed my cheek to his while I looked along his outstretched arm to see where he was pointing.
Pablo and I stood against the railing with our arms over each other's shoulders while Pop took our picture. Then I took Pablo over to one of the souvenir shops and bought him a pair of sunglasses. I made him promise not to wear them unless the sun hurt his eyes, so he stuffed them into a pocket of his shirt.
Back at the hotel, we walked to a nearby tree shaded plaza. Across the street beside it were sidewalk cafes. Mom and Pop ordered from the menu and Pablo ordered for me and himself. We sat close together, our knees touching, while I hoped my parents thought we were just good pals. Pablo told us Guanajuato was a word in the old Indian language that meant hill of frogs.
After we finished lunch, Mom and Pop wanted to go to a museum and see a lot of mummies. I told them to go ahead and Pablo and I would go shopping for T-shirts. We walked to the opposite corner of the square and down a sloping pedestrian street that was lined with tourist shops. We found one where I could buy a pair of red T-shirts with an image of a green frog wearing a yellow miner's helmet and carrying a pickaxe.
The sun was bright so Pablo put on his shades. We walked further along to a polished black statue of an Aztec warrior. I pulled the T-shirts out of the bag and we took off our own shirts and put them on. I wished Pop was there to take another picture. Pablo put his white shirt back on, hanging open, and I tucked my old shirt in my back pocket.
We found the bus station, and Pablo bought a ticket for the four o'clock bus. We went and sat by another plaza on a bench under a tree. I took Pablo's glasses from his face and put them in his pocket. I wanted to see the love in his one good eye as long as I could.
We intertwined our fingers and squeezed each other's hand. It felt so good to be with Pablo. I didn't want to cry again. I wanted our last hour or so together to be happy.
"How do you know so much about Guanajuato?" I asked him.
Pablo hesitated, and then said, "One of my men brought me here for a few days. He was a nice old man from Germany."
"Were there a lot of men, Pablo?" I asked. I don't know why I wanted to hear about that.
"Yes, amor mio," said Pablo. "Some were nice and some were not. They all said how pretty was my bottom. Wait until you see it. I bet you'll like it too." He grinned at me.
"What will you do in Mexico City?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"I will try to find a nice man to take care of me," he said. "I will give him my bottom, and he will give me an education so that I can get a good job and be a real partner when you come to find me."
Desperation filled my heart. "Why can't you come and be with me now, Pablo?" I asked.
"What would your parents say when they found an illegal alien sleeping in their garage?" he said.
"How will I find you, Pablo?" I asked.
He said, "Go to the Empress Carlotta Hotel in Mexico City and look for a bell captain named Arnaldo. He is my uncle. He will know where to find me."
"Oh, Pablo," I said. "I'm going to miss you so much."
He pushed up the corners of my mouth into a strained smile. "When you are on your own and we can be together, come and get me. I will always be ready for you."
"I will, Pablo," I said. "I promise."
We sat for a while, close together on the bench, holding hands.
"Pablo, my love," I said, "we never got to be together. Never could hold each other on my bed. Never ..."
He interrupted me, "Amor mio, we could go now and find a toilet in the bus station and do something, but I don't want that. I was not with you for my first time, and I expect that as time passes I will not be your first. But when we are together at last, I know it will be our best time."
In the distance we could faintly hear the music of a mariachi band. Once, Pablo sang along in Spanish with the music, softly, looking into my eyes. I could see that his open eye was full of love for me.
When he finished, I asked, "What was the song about?"
"It was about a man who is far away from his lover," he said, "and he sings of how much he misses her."
Tears clouded my eyes.
"Don't cry," said Pablo. "Think of how happy we will be when we are together again."
We sat together a while longer. All too soon, Pablo said, "I have to go now to catch my bus."
We stood up and hugged, each of us trying to pull the other inside his skin. Our lips met in a soft, tender kiss. We held it until my mouth began to tremble.
Pablo stepped back and squeezed my shoulders with his strong hands. "Be happy," he said. "Laugh like you did at the fiesta. Think about my pretty bottom, and I will think about your pretty cock."
"Yes, Pablo," I said. "I love you, Pablo."
He took my hands in his. "I have to go now," he said. "Hasta la vista, amor mio."
"Until I see you again, my love," I said.
He pecked me on the lips and let go of my hands and turned and walked away. He reached into his pocket and put on his shades. I stood there watching until he turned onto another street.
I knew, better than I knew my own name, that we would meet again. I laughed, like he had told me to do. I tried to imagine what his pretty bottom looked like. It didn't stop me from crying while I walked back to the hotel.
In my room, I lay on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. An image of Pablo's face and his two warm black eyes filled my mind, and I wept no more.
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to be continued