PARADISE FOUND AND LOST (inter, m/m, oral, NC) By Joe7white@yahoo.com. Comments welcome
It was snowing. Bill thrust his hands into his pockets and quickened his step. The only good thing about his nightly walk home from the train station through this rough neighborhood was passing the Puerto Rican tavern called the Paradise Club. Through a large window he could see young Hispanic men drinking at the bar, shooting pool, milling around the jukebox. It surprised Bill to glimpse more than one Latino in wife-beaters, exposing cinnamon brown shoulders and arms, as if were just a summer night and not the dead of winter.
Must be fuckin' hot in there, he figured.
Bill wasn't contemplating picking up an hombre for sex, at least not consciously. Bill was thirty years old, with short blond hair, a goatee like Brad Pitt's, and the body of a gym rat. His first lover Juan was a bisexual Mexican in the Army, who broke Bill's heart when he left him for a woman. Bill never had sex with another Hispanic again.
Bill was living with a black guy now, named Marcus, another bisexual who strayed, but Bill was satisfied with their arrangement. Marcus was not only discreet about the girls he fucked on the side, he had a steady job and was built like a football player. While pumping Bill with his nine-inch, black-iron rod, Marcus would whisper in his ear that Bill was the only man he could ever love, the only man he could he ever fuck in the ass like it was a cunt. And Marcus was always horny. He liked getting his dick sucked for a few hours while he drank beer and watched TV. Then, he would watch a porno flick and bust his nut deep in Bill's throat. They slept in the same bed. Almost every morning Marcus would roll on top of Bill and fuck him lazily for about twenty minutes, then cum again.
Marcus never brought girls home. He always paid for a motel or fucked them at their place. Usually on Friday nights, Marcus went out drinking with his boys at a strip club, and sometimes didn't come home until early in the morning when he would wake up Bill to suck his dick, smelling and tasting like pussy. Bill didn't mind, content with the knowledge that he was the only guy Marcus would ever mess with.
Bill was a few blocks from home, still thinking about the Paradise Club, tempted to venture in there some night. Just for a change, he told himself. He had no intention of picking up a guy. Sex was the last thing on his mind. His throat was still sore from the night before and his ass was sore from that morning. Bill was glad it was Friday night. At least for a few hours he would be spared Marcus's insatiable cock. When Marcus came home it would be another story, but there was enough time to step out for a drink.
Bill walked past the Kit Kat Tavern, the go-go joint where he was certain Marcus was already carousing. Across the street was the only gay bar in town. In the three years since he had been with Marcus, Bill had been to the Lavender Lounge maybe three times. He didn't care much for gay bars. There were just too many queens, and Bill had learned from experience that it was always the butch ones who were the first to spread their legs. Bill preferred the company of what he called "real men," like the macho guys at the Paradise or the horny studs at the Kit-Kat (where he met Marcus in the first place).
Rounding the corner, Bill happened to glance back and was so stunned by what he saw that he almost slipped on the snow-covered sidewalk. Marcus was coming out of the Lavender Lounge with a tall, white guy with blond hair and a goatee like Bill's. They walked to Marcus' car and drove off.
In shock, Bill went directly home and poured himself a strong rum and coke. He chain-smoked and downed several more while he paced, angry, hurt, and miserable. He had to get out of the house, had to go somewhere, anywhere. It was in this mood that Bill decided he was going to the Paradise Club.
By the time Bill returned to the Paradise, he was already good and drunk. This was how Bill met Rosario, Flaco, and Jose.
By the time Bill walked into the Paradise, he was already good and drunk. He sat down at the bar and ordered a Coors Lite. For the next hour he drank a few more beers and watched the latino guys around him. Most of them were speaking in Spanish to one another. Some of them were wearing wife-beaters, just as he had seen through the window, but there was one guy who had no shirt on at all. Bill couldn't keep his eyes off that guy, a young man in his early twenties with no hair on his slim, muscular torso, but with tatoos on his chest and arms. There were no women present. The place reeked of tobacco and testosterone.
Bill made small-talk in English with the buff hombre sitting next to him, a young Puerto Rican with thick black browns and a bright Ricky Martin smile. His name was Rosario. He wasn't very tall. None of the men in the bar even matched Bill's six foot, two inches. But Rosario's compelling good looks and excellent physique more than compensated for his lack of stature. Cannon-ball biceps filled Rosario's short black sleeves and his thick chest and broad lats rippled under the fabric like the muscles of a black jungle cat. Rosario had small perfect ears, both sporting a silver hoop. His thick black hair was cropped very close to his skull, as if recently shaved.
Rosario was very friendly and apparently knew everyone in the bar. He introduced Bill to anyone who stopped to talk, and told him gringos were always welcome at "el Paraiso."
"You don't mind if I call you a gringo, do you?" inquired Rosario, with a thick accent. Bill didn't mind. He was already a captive of Rosario's masculine charms. Bill even let his eyes linger over Rosario's bulging crotch, wondering what it packed, imagining Rosario naked, picturing in his mind Rosario's juicy uncut sausage.
"Yo, gringo, you okay, man?" said Rosario, bring Bill to his senses.
"Yeah, I'm okay." Bill tried to dispel his fantasies. He reminded himself that Rosario was straight.
Rosario bought them both a shot of Bacardi and Bill returned the favor.
By the time Bill returned from the men's room after a long piss, the bar was slowly emptying. Rosario was paying for two Corona six-packs to go. He introduced Bill to two compadres of his, Flaco and Jose, who looked barely old enough to be served.
Flaco was thin and wiry with dark, burning eyes, faint mustache, dark brown, pockmarked skin, short hair; he wore wife-beaters tucked into low-hanging baggy jeans, exposing two inches of red and white striped boxers. Jose wore a short suede jacket over his bare lean torso, a backwards baseball cap over a shaggy head of hair, black locks hanging in his narrow eyes. Jose had the high cheekbones and small, boyish build of a Guatemalan.
Bill walked with his three new friends to a rowhouse several blocks away.
The living room was lit by one small lamp in the corner. There was a TV on, playing loudly a Spanish channel. Half a dozen Hispanic men of all ages were lounging around on threadbare sofas and worn cushions, smoking, drinking from forties. A plump hispanic girl, no older than 15, was giving a shirtless hoodlum a slow, lazy blowjob, while the guys on either side looked on, rubbing their crotches. Bill figured they must be next in line.
Rosario hurried Bill through the living room and up the stairs to another room which looked much the same, only it had a bed against the wall. Bill sat down on the edge of the bed. Flaco & Jose flopped down beside him. There was a TV set on the nightstand with a pile of videos on the side. Flaco turned it on and put in what turned out to be a porno flick. Rosario pulled up an armchair and passed a beer to each of them, followed a few minutes later by a thick cigar emptied of tobacco and filled with reefer. Jose pulled off his jacket, brushing his bare, firm shoulder against Bill who would never get used to the freedom Latinos felt in showing off their bodies.
Rosario flashed a smile at Bill and told him to chill out. "You hangin' with the vatos, gringo! You don't got to be nowhere to go, do you? You gonna hang with us tonight, verdad?"
Bill thought of Marcus cheating on him and decided he didn't want to be home when Marcus got there.
"Yeah, this is cool," said Bill, nervously.
"Then get comfortable, yo," said Flaco, kicking off his sneakers and letting down the bib of his coveralls so that his skinny chest and washboard stomach were exposed.
Rosario peeled off his tight black tee shirt and put his hands behind his head, flexing his pecs. It almost seemed to Bill as if Rosario was deliberately teasing him, as if he knew Bill was gay and was testing him. Because Bill was very drunk and high, he stared at Rosario's muscular, brown physique a little too long, admiring the cut of his pecs, the six-pack abs, nipples that stuck out like tiny erasers, the lush black hair of his armpits.
"So you gonna get comfortable or not?" he urged.
Bill slowly took off his heavy parka & set it behind him on the bed. Rosario, Flacco, and Jose just looked at him, grinning, as if to challenge his modesty. If Bill had been sober, he would have ran out at this point, realizing that he was getting in over his head. But Bill wasn't exactly in his right mind at the moment. All he knew was he didn't want to go home to Marcus, and here he with a group of friendly Latino boys who seemed to accept him as one of their own and just wanted to hang out.
Bill unbuttoned the cuffs of his flannel shirt and then unbuttoned the buttons down the front. His fingers fumbled nervously. The way his three new amigos were watching made him feel like he was on display, giving them a strip tease. But that was ridiculous, he told himself. These guys were as straight as they come. The only interest they had in checking out Bill's body was to compare physiques. Won't they be surprised, he thought, when they see the results of four trips to the gym every week for the last ten years. What he lacked in Rosario's definition, he made up for in height, and his chest, biceps and shoulders were bigger than Jose's or Flaco's.
"I think my gringo be workin' out," said Rosario, leaning forward to squeeze Bill's arm. Flacco laughed and said something to Jose that didn't Bill didn't understand, except for one word. Maricon. Faggot. Were they talking about him?
"Check this shit out," said Jose, pointing to the TV screen.
A white woman with short blonde hair and big tits was on her back surrounded by a gang of men, mostly black and Hispanic. She had a thick brown dick in her mouth, while another guy was pumping away at her pussy. "Yo, that's what I'm talkin' about!" exclaimed Jose. "Shit, I wish we had some pussy! I told you we needed to get a puta up in here tonight."
Flacco unzipped his fly and started stroking his long thin brown cock nonchalantly. Nine inches of hot Puerto Rican sausage.
Rosario laughed, "Don't mind him, gringo. Flacco can't help himself. He like to jerk off all the time. You like pussy, don't you gringo?"
Jose said, "Mire, jefe. Creo que el gringito se gusta su bicho!" (Check it out, boss! I think this white boy likes your dick)
Rosario: "Is that right, gringo? Jose says you like lookin' at Flacco's dick. You into guys, man? That's okay if you are. Jose hates fags, but Flaco and me, we don't got nothin' against maricones."
"You think I'm gay?" asked Bill. "I'm not like that. I got a girlfriend." Bill was drunk, but not too drunk to realize he had gotten himself into a potentially bad situation.
Rosario said to Jose, "See, my man ain't no maricon."
Jose said, "He acts like a cocksucker, man. I say we fuck this bitch up for tryin' to play us. He just lookin' for some dick!" He pronounced that word deek.
Flaco said something in Spanish that Bill couldn't translate, but it made Rosario and Jose snicker.
"What did he say?" Bill asked.
"Flaco says if you want to hang with us you got to pass the initiation," explained Rosario.
"What kind of initiation?"
Flaco said something else in Spanish. Rosario translated: "Flaco says you got to jerk of with him. He don't like to jerk off by himself. He says you should have brought yo girlfriend with you."
Bill stood up and grabbed his shirt. "Look, I got to go now. My girlfriend's waiting for me."
Rosario shoved Bill back down on the bed. "I think you better do what Flaco wants, gringo," he said in a low, deep voice that was not accustomed to being disobeyed. Then, Rosario reached into a drawer and pulled out a small, black long-barelled handgun. Bill's heart started racing. Now he knew he was in trouble.
"Take it out," demanded Rosario.
Bill hesitated and looked around nervously. Flaco and Jose were staring at him intently with evil grins.
"Do it now," said Rosario, absently stroking the barrel of the gun like it was a cock in his hand.
Nervously, Bill lowered his black denim jeans and pulled out a limp, shriveled, pallid cock from his white briefs.
Flaco said, "Don't be a pussy, get it hard."
"Yeah, get yo shit hard, hombre," said Jose. Even though he had the physique of a young boy and wore loose-fitting pants slung low on his slim hips, there was the noticeable outline of his large, man-sized cock.
Bill stroked his meat but it wouldn't get hard. "I can't do it," he pleaded, on the verge of tears.
"You ain't goin' nowhere, gringo, until you do it. Get it hard."
"Told ya he was a faggot," said Jose.
Bill fought back the tears and focused his attention on the porno flick, hoping it would get him aroused. An older Latino with a potbelly was licking the pussy of a very pretty black girl with big tits who had her face buried in another black girl's cunt. It wasn't the sort of scene that turned Bill on. He stole a glance at Rosario's firm, muscular pecs and six-pack stomach, but he was still too frightened to get hard.
"Try spitting on yo dick, man," said Rosario, looking Bill dead in the eye.
Bill spit into his hand and continued stroking.
"No, gringo, I didn't say spit on yo hand, I said spit on yo dick. Tu bicho, tonta!" (Your dick, stupid!)
Bill's mouth was dry but he managed to work up enough saliva to spit on his cock. The spittle overshot the mark and landed on his pant leg.
"Otra vez," said Flaco. (Again!)
Rosario said, "Do it again. Don't miss this time. Flaco wants you to spit on your fuckin' gringo dick, puta. Do it. Make Flaco happy. All you gotta do is jerk off with Flaco and you in with us tight."
Bill's spittle struck his limp cock and hand, but as hard as Bill tried, he couldn't get hard.
"Open your damn mouth," barked Rosario. "Wider! Yeah, like that. Keep it open." Bill did as he was told. He was leaning back on one elbow, stroking his limp white cock with the other hand through the slit of his white briefs, jeans down to ankles. His head was thrown back and his mouth gaping wide. He expected a Latin phallus shoved down his throat any second.
Jose said, "Look at this white bitch. I told you he was a faggot! Flaco, don't he look like a fag to you?"
Flaco, who was absently stroking his long skinny cock, muttered something in Spanish which made Rosario chuckle. "Yeah, do it, jefe," said Jose.
Rosario leaned forward and slid the long barrel of his gun between's Bill's lips.
"Suck it, chump," he ordered. "Suck it like your life depends on it." Bill wrapped his lips around the barrel & did exactly as he was told, while Jose went through Bill's pants pockets. Jose pulled out Bill's wallet and tossed his driver's license, credit cards and cash onto the bed.
"Looks like we're getting paid tonight," said Rosario as he snatched them up. There was $53. He gave a twenty to Juan and Flaco, and pocketed the rest.
Sucking on steel, colder and harder than any cock, was the hottest thing Bill had ever done. He knew if it went off, his brains would be spattered on the wall. Maybe it was the threat of death that thrilled him. Maybe it was being at the mercy of three Hispanic roughnecks sitting around him with their shirts off, robbing him at gunpoint, making him do these things against his will. Maybe it was the bulge in Rosario's white pants.
Whatever it was, Bill's spit-soaked cock began to stiffen in his sweaty hand.
"Yeah, you got it now, chica," snorted Rosario, pulling the barrel of his .38 out of Bill's mouth. "We never seen no gringo play with his shit before. Can't you get it harder than that? Is that you all got?"
Physically, Bill towered over these thugs and his gym-trained physique was the equal of Rosario's, if not superior being taller and better cut, but Bill's thin circumcised penis stood a little less than six inches. Most of the gay men he had sex with, certainly all of his lovers, passed over Bill's inadequacy with disdain and took him in the mouth and ass like a woman.
"Told you he was a fag," said Juan.
"All white boys got teeny dicks," said Rosario. "That don't make him a fag."
Flaco was slowly stroking his long brown cock between his long brown fingers. "I don't care if the gringo is a fag," he said, "I want to get some head. Puta, I like how you sucked that gun. Te gusta mi herramienta? Es dura como acero! Chupamelo!" (You like my hard tool? It's hard like steel. Suck it!)
"You heard the man," said Rosario. "Suck his dick!"
"Yeah, lo quieres chupar??? demanded Flaco. (Do you want to suck it?)
Rosario grabbed Bill by the hair and pushed his face down onto Flaco's crotch. The scrawny Latino's stiff nine inches, oozing precum, pressed hard and hot against his face.
Bill opened his lips and took the cock into his mouth. He felt Flaco's hands grab him by the ears, working his head up and down. Flaco worked his long, thin cock all the way down Bill's throat until the white boy gagged. Then, Flaco pulled it out almost to the head & plunged it in. Again and again he pumped his cock, all the way in and all the way out, like fucking a pussy.
"Look at that faggot go!" said Jose, with perverse glee. "Fuck her face, Flaco! Fuck this little white girl!"
Rosario and Jose watched with evil grins as Flaco pounded Bill in the mouth with his cock.
"Awww, shit, I'm gonna cum, this bitch is makin me cum. Yaaah, keep suckin. Suck it chump or lose yo life. You wanna die on this pinga don't you bitch! Chupamelo duro!!! Tragate mi jugo!!!!" (Suck it hard! Swallow my juice!!!)
"Look at him, he wants it!" laughed Rosario. "He's like a little wild animal Suck dat pinga bitch!!!"
"Give it to the bitch. She wants it. Give her that dick!!!" said Juan.
At that moment, Flaco grabbed Bill by the ears and flooded his mouth with hot cum, spurt after spurt shooting into Bill's sore throat.
"Aww, shit, that was some good head, bitch!" said Flaco, breathing hard, pushing Bill away and zipping up his pants. "Yo, who wants to go next??"
Rosario and Jose were both sporting hard-ons beneath their pants, but neither of them were interested in taking it to the next level.
"Aiiiight, maricon, we done with yo ass," said Rosario. "You gotta go now, gringo."
'Let's fuck this bitch up," said Jose."
"Chill, vato!" said Rosario.
The three thugs led Bill downstairs. Bill was shirtless and shoeless, but they let him keep his pants. They took him to a back door and thrust him out into an alley. It was still snowing hard.
Bill didn't waste any time in running home through the snow-covered streets, ignoring the stares he caught from strangers. He knew that he was lucky to get away with his life.
When he walked into the house, there was his lover Marcus with the white guy he had seen him with. They were watching TV, sharing a joint. Marcus rushed over to Bill with a puzzled look of concern.
"Billy, what happened to you? Are you all right???"
"I got mugged!" lied Bill. There was no way he was going to tell anyone what had happened to him. "So, who's your friend? I can't believe you would bring some whore into our house!"
"Hold up, man! Chill! It's not like that," said Marcus, gripping Bill's bare shoulders and searching his face for some clue as to what was going on.
"Chad, this is my lover Bill. Bill, this is Chad. Chad is Leroy's lover." Leroy was one of Marcus's best friends, a down-low brother who worked with Marcus. "Leroy asked me to show Chad around until he got off work. He had to work overtime, but I thought the four of us could go out tonight."
"But, I thought - " stammered Bill.
"What did you think???"
"Never mind," said Bill.
"What's that on your face?" asked Marcus.
Bill felt the dried, crusty cum on his cheek and chin. It was all over. Marcus, who would never cheat on his lover, realized at once what Bill had been up to.
Marcus turned to Chad and said, "C'mon, let's get out of here." He glanced at Bill. "I'll be back tomorrow to get my shit."
"But, but - !"
"I don't want to hear it," snapped Marcus. "You fuckin little whore! I never thought you would do this to me! I thought I could trust you! C'mon, Chad. We're outta here!"
Bill was left standing alone, barefoot, bare-chested, bereft of his dignity, $53, and the man he loved.