The following story is a work of fiction and contains sexual situations between males. "El Criador Anónimo" Copyright © 2019 Emile Ochoa.
El Criador Anónimo (The Anonymous Breeder) Copyright © 2019 Emile Ochoa.
Nobody ever knew his name or who he was, but in el barrio, he was known as 'El Criador', The Breeder. It was one of those things where people in the hood thought they knew who, but nobody knew for sure; they heard rumors, but had no confirmation. It was hard since in the streets, all the fellas looked way too macho and too thugged-out to be into any gay shit, but somebody was. Somebody was slamming ass and keeping it undercover.
The set up was perfect. There's this park over by where I live that guys go to hook up, and there's this one spot where guys go to hook up with other guys, and that's where El Criador was known to be. He hung around the bathroom, in one of the stalls or so the rumors said. Nobody could say for sure since everything was on the down low.
Nobody ever saw his face. The only way to identify him was from the Timberland's he wore with the loose fitting, grey sweatpants that were down around his ankles along with dark colored underwear. He was rumored to always be in the same stall in the bathroom and never left until he had the cover of darkness.
From what I heard, his Latino papi legs were strong, tanned, and lightly covered with dark hair. With that description, it definitely could've been any of the homies from the corner who hung out in front the building or maybe somebody from Spanish Harlem who frequented the area because of all the good ass available; not that anybody ever said anything out loud. Nobody ever admitted to knowing for sure 'cause then it would mean they were in that part of the park, and that wasn't cool.
See, there was a street code to live by that basically said "culo chicos no son bienvenidos;" ass boys not welcomed. It was a clear sign of the type of straight machismo that made up the homies in the hood and how they thought. People took that shit seriously too.
I watched it all from the roof of my building in the early evening when the sun turned the sky different shades of orange as it was getting ready to go down on us the way Ms. Carlos; went down on dudes in the alley between our building and the one next door. She'd be out late at night when the streets were emptied of the thugs who claimed them during the day. She was the only one who got away with being a known maricon.
Nobody fucked with her beyond saying some teasing shit because even though she was like that, she was one of the toughest guys on the block. One time this wanna be thug thought he could pop off at her and slap her 'cause he thought he was bad. She left him laid out in the street and took his money. The homeboys took his jewelry, track suit, and sneakers, and stood around yelling "you got knocked the fuck out," before cutting out with his stuff, but that's the hood.
I lived on the fifth floor of the same building as Ms. Carlos, but I spent most of the time on the roof staring down at the doings around the hood. There was more than one night when I would hear the echoing moans coming from below in the alleyway. I would creep over to the roof ledge, lean over some, and watch Ms. Carlos and whoever she was with. Most of the time her head would be bobbing back and forth in front of some dude she picked up, but on occasion, she'd be bent over by the dumpster, getting fucked in the ass by some big dick because she never messed with any dude who wasn't packing the thick inches. She said so herself.
She tried to get at me a few times, but I left that shit alone 'cause she got a habit of calling dudes out when she them in public and they act like they don't remember having they dicks sucked by her; and around here, once the word gets out that a dude is maricón, his trouble free days in the hood are numbered. We all knew that, even 'El Criador', which is why he do what he do on the down low, just like the guys who go looking to do that type of stuff.
I heard a lot of rumors about 'El Criador', especially from the homies who hung outside the building. Every day there was something new as they all tried to figure who he was. There was more than one dude getting down with other dudes, but 'El Criador' was like the top dog; biggest dick, the longest fuck, the hardest grunts. Getting fucked by him was legendary according to the stories. It was the type of shit you licked your lips too while grabbing your crotch and imagining it was you getting bred. It was hard not to think about it with all the talk going around even if you wasn't into dudes.
Most days, I be stretched out on my bed, butt naked, hot and sweaty, with my dick well slayed and slobber all over my Latino tanned body and chin. I wasn't the most built, but I wasn't too skinny neither with a sparse pube bush and smooth balls; not to mention a lengthy, Latino dick. That shit look like a fleshy, tanned, smooth cucumber with foreskin. This girl I used to mess with liked putting her tongue inside it and tickling my dick head right in the eye before she would swallow me down.
I don't mess with her no more 'cause she ain't know how to suck dick and 'cause in reality, I wanted to be the one sucking dick. Ain't nobody know though. I kept that shit real quiet, especially around the homies. As far as anybody knew, I was hardcore straight; banging putas, chilling with the homies, and causing shit for anybody who wasn't down with us. I looked and acted the part. I made sure of that.
I got outta bed, checked the window to see who was outside while my dick flopped around over my balls with a thin line of left over come oozing out. I squeezed right behind the head some and watched a droplet of it pool up in the hold of my foreskin. I wiped it and put my finger on my tongue. I checked outside one more time. The homies were chilling om the corner, but it ain't look like anybody was outside the building. It was a good thing since I ain't feel like getting into anything with them at the moment.
I crept across to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and got ready to leave out. I had something I wanted to do and ain't need none of my homies around when I was doing it. I dried off in my room, sprayed some CK-1 on the right spots including my balls and ass crack. The temporary sting was worth smelling good. I threw on some baggy, black jeans that even with my belt, sagged low below my waist so that the burgundy, nylon shorts I put on and my boxers showed. I grabbed my black, long, oversized tee shirt and put it on with my white Nike sneakers, and my dark navy Yankees cap.
I ain't push it all the way down 'cause I ain't want it to mess up my newly corn-rolled look. My homie's girl did them last weekend in her kitchen. The only thing I remember about it was me sitting in a chair, staring into they bedroom at my boy's ass while he was getting changed while she was braiding and talking about some shit. I had to check myself 'cause my dick started to twitch some when he started grinding to 'Hands Up Get Low' from Kstylis. I watched him moving his ass and imagined what'd it be like to have it rubbing up against my face or some shit like that and then him bending me over and...
"Ughh... ughh... mhmm... mhmm... unh," I groaned. "Mhmm... mhmm... ughh... unh."
His dick felt so good. Chuey had me from behind; my jeans and boxers down around my ankles, my shirt is tossed on the bed. He's got me bent over, hands against the bed, fucking me the way probably be fucking his girl. He holding me by the waist, slamming my ass while his girl is out with they kid. It's a hot, summer afternoon and he's stuffing my hole for the first time, forcing it to choke on the thick shaft of his nine inch, Dominican, dick and he let me know it... he made me feel it hard and long. If only it had happened for real and not just in my mind.
Imagining hooking up with Chuey made my dick swell up a little. I checked my look in the mirror and told my moms that I'd be back later. She ain't ask what was up, and I ain't tell her nothing. I just got a bottle of water and left out. I stood outside my building for a minute, sipped some water, and looked down to the corner where the homies were standing around. I wiped my mouth and headed toward them. I wasn't heading to chill out with them, but I had to go in that direction to get to my real destination... the park. It was still light out and around the time I usually went.
"Yo look who it is," Pablo said when he saw me. "Yo Papito, where you going looking all good and shit, you got a date with a sexy mamita?"
"What up Pablo?" I slapped hands with him and nodded to the other fellas. "S'up?"
"So who is it Papito, that little puta with the nice tits that lives on 145th?"
"Nah, it ain't like that. I'm chilling with my cousin in Harlem."
"Oh so that's what you calling it now? Chilling with yo cousin, I get it Pa," he laughed and slapped hand with me again. "Okay then, go chill with yo cousin, but I want all the details when you get back."
"Yeah, whatever. I'll meet up with y'all later. I'm out," I slapped hands with everybody and headed toward the subway.
I acted like I was getting on the train 'cause I knew they could see me, but I walked the tunnel to the other exit and came out from over there. >From there, the park was about five blocks up the hill and across the parkway. There was an overpass connecting one side of the parkway with the other side. I took it and headed up the hill.
I checked around to make sure nobody I knew was around 'cause I ain't want nobody knowing what I was doing since I knew how shit would go down if they did. I wanted to do my shit and get back to my side of the hood before anybody had the chance to know anything. I ain't even go into the park through the main entrance way. I went around to one of the side entrances that were less used.
Things were relatively quiet. There were a few blancos con su café y sus perros walking around in shorts and flip flops. They'd been slowly coming across from Manhattan infecting los barrios that belonged to us with their little dogs and Starbucks, but they had money and nice phones. Trust me, I know, I hit up a few of them with the homies when they came home late at night from their nights out in the city. Even Ms. Carlos knew what the deal was. She sucked off a couple of college boys in the alley before. I ain't never think a blanquito would travel that far to get they dick sucked, but I guess I was wrong.
Seeing them in the park was different than watching them in the alley. There they were horny drunks in search of a quick nut, but in the park they looked like fucking sweet boys and girls in shorts. I chilled on a bench for about twenty minutes to make sure of what was what before going to the spot. I kept looking over my shoulder the closer I got to it and then disappeared onto one of the paths that circled around the cruising area.
There were a few dudes around. None of them was 'El Criador' though. They ain't have the look or the swag. Anybody who knew me, knew me as a Latino papichulo who was easy on the eyes with dark, shoulder length hair, and a fit body, but there was more to me than that. I was like any of the guys there in the park; I was looking for dick.
At first nothing popped off, but after I went over by the bathroom and saw that it was locked, I started walking around again and that was when I peeped this other homie. He looked at me as we went by each other. He was a brown skin guy, around 5'11, well defined body, full lips, shaved head, and hazel eyes. He had on sagging jeans, black boxer briefs, an unbuttoned, short sleeve shirt, red baseball cap, and dark red Timberland boots.
I took notice real quick. I got excited 'cause I thought he was 'El Criador' at first. I stopped and stared at him for a second; thinking it could be him. Maybe 'El Criador' wasn't a Latino papi, but a chico marrón who everybody thought was Hispanic. The more I thought about it, the stronger the urge to get with this guy was.
I licked my lips and squeezed my balls as I watched him. He noticed me. He casually walked by and ain't say nothing to me. I looked to see where he was going though and followed. He stepped off the path into the bushes, up one of the narrow makeshift paths. I took a few steps, stopped, and looked around... no cops, no bystanders; nothing but trees, bushes, and empty paths. I went over to where he was hidden by the over brush. He was sitting on a fallen tree with one leg up, massaging his crotch.
"S'up," he nodded as I got closer.
"S'up," I nodded. I licked my lips staring at the shaped of his dick through his underwear.
"Chillin," he smiled a little.
"I got you. Ain't nobody around, so you mind if I chill with you?" I folded my lips, licked them, and swallowed.
"Yeah, if you up to it," he rolled back his underwear and took his dick out. His shit was long, hard, cut, and staring at me like we was old friends.
"Yeah... it's cool," I told him and wet my lips. I squeezed my dick and balls.
He wasn't that much older than me; I would say maybe twenty one, twenty two or somewhere around there. It wasn't a problem though. I was cool with that. I'd been in the park a lot of times with different guys; a few older than he was. I ain't know their names and they ain't know mine, but I knew they dicks and they mouths. His dick though, was an untapped maple tree and I was thirsty for sap. I slowly walked closer to him. Damn, his dick was nice. He stroked it intentionally slow while I watched.
I took my dick out. My seven and a half inch, flesh pole that was already hard. A clear glob of precome was in the piss hole. I squeezed behind my dick head to force it out more. It dribbled out, I tapped the hole, broke the bubble, and smeared precome all over my head. I stroked my dick slowly just like he was doing his, sliding my foreskin back and forth over my dick head making it get more slimy with precome.
"Mhmm... Ssss..." he bit his lower lip.
He shook his dick at me and stroked. The more he did, the harder it looked. I grabbed it and stroked him. He moaned softly as I jerked him steadily. I wasn't trying to make him come, I was just playing with it, studying it; sizing it up...