by Wynn Wagner
Halfway through lunch she remembered somebody who wasn't in her Android contacts.
"Gay guy,” she said. “Very hot-looking."
"I'm looking for an agent,” I laughed, “not a husband."
"I'm thinking of your best interests, puto,” she said. “Keep you happy so we do better shows, man."
* * * *
I met with Chico the same evening. He was just as hunky as Janie Marroquin said. Not my type, really, but he was really easy on the eyes. Chico was about my height, six feet. He was trim like a tennis player with light golden skin. Chico wore a royale beard but kept it trimmed short, angular and no wider than the pinstripe on an automobile. He kept his hair cut short, probably for business reasons.
"Hey, doll,” he said to me when we met. “Janie Marroquin says you need a talent agent."
"Does everybody call her by both names?” I asked.
"Pretty much,” he said. “I've known her for ten years, and everybody does that. Don't know why."
"You know my deal?"
"Says you're lonely,” he told me with a wink. “That you could use a frisky romp in the hay."
"Maybe, but I'm allergic to hay. Right now I just need a talent agent. I never worked with one before."
"Sweet, I love virgins. I can work this a few different ways. If you want me to look over your contract, you can just pay me $5,000, but you can't call me in three months with a problem. You wouldn't be my client, so you pay me whatever I say my going rate is every time you call me."
"What's the other way?"
"Most agents do a percentage, usually ten percent off the top of your pay. I can do that if you want."
"Ouch."
"Hey, I am worth every penny of that, but I have another deal. If you sign a longer-term contract, I will only take three percent under $200,000. If I get you more than a two hundred thousand for any year, I get fifteen percent."
I thought about the various plans and said, “On this last one, I'm worth more when you get more."
"Exactly,” Chico said. “It makes me work harder."
"Do you have any papers with you?"
"Papers? All you white guys are the same. Just because I'm Hispanic, you think I'm illegal. I don't need no stinkin’ papers,” he said quickly.
"Not immigration papers."
He laughed and said, “Boy, you do move fast. I like it."
"You have no idea,” I laughed. “I want to read over the papers tonight. Want to catch breakfast tomorrow?"
"I can't do that unless you do a sleep-over tonight,” he said with a really raspy voice.
"Won't your husband get mad?"
"I don't believe in husbands,” he said with a big grin.
"Let's start with baby steps, Chico. If everything is okay, I will have signed papers for you in the morning. The boss wants to start talks tomorrow."
"Which plan?"
"I think the three percent and fifteen percent thing."
"Thought you might, babe,” he said with a wink. He gave me a hug and a kiss, and the kiss was a little bit longer than you might expect for a business meeting. I guess he liked what he saw. I almost skipped out to my motorcycle for the ride back to my apartment.
Chico drove up to me as I pulled out of my parking space. He was driving a screaming-red Lotus Elise, a British sports car. It was never on the top of my must-have list, but it was a real kick ass car. It told me that Chico liked fast cars, just like me. He had the top off and stored someplace. If I had paid that much for a car, I don't think that I'd leave the top off in a parking lot. Maybe he was more trusting than me. Whatever. It looked like a fun ride, and Chico looked happy to be behind the wheel.
"Hey, I'm heading home,” he said. “Follow me if you changed your mind about that romp."
He turned to the right out of the parking lot and zipped down the street with just enough oomph to enjoy his car. My apartment was to the left. After a few seconds of hesitation, I pointed my motorcycle to the left and headed back home. I was tempted, but I didn't even know Chico. He was handsome, to be sure. Almost preppy. Oh, what the fuck...? I did a quick U-turn with my Harley and gunned the engine to catch up to Chico's car. He was halfway through a turn, so I barely made it before he was just gone to places unknown.
At a stoplight, I pulled alongside Chico's Lotus, revved the Harley's engine, and raised the visor of my helmet.
"You can take me,” he hollered over the engine noise, “but I'm the only one of us who knows where to turn."
I put the visor back down, bowed my head, and stuck out my lower lip to pout. Chico thought it was funny and was chuckling as the light turned green.
You can count all the instant tricks I've had on one hand, and you'll have plenty of fingers left.
We drove about twenty minutes before getting to his house. He lived in a new section of town where all the houses had huge arches over the front door and exaggerated roof lines. They barely had any space between the houses, so this was not the part of town full of people who liked gardens and yard work.
Chico pulled into the garage of his house, and I pulled my bike onto his driveway and got off. Even though Chico lived in a nice part of town, I took time to lock everything on the bike. He waited for me in the garage. As soon as I cleared the garage door, Chico pushed a button to close it.
"What made you change your mind?” he asked me with an evil grin.
"I have no idea,” I said, and that was the truth.
"Well, I'm glad you did. Come on in."
"Wow,” I said as I eyed a dozen or so bicycles hanging on hooks on one wall of Chico's garage. There were bikes of every sort, some with knobby tires and others with tires that seemed no wider than a piece of linguini.
"I like to ride. What can I say?"
"Yeah, I can... wait... what's this?” I said as I pointed to a macrame bag with maps that was on its own hook near the bicycles.
"Maps,” Chico said. “Just maps."
"Okay,” I said as I pulled one of the maps out of the bag. “You ride bicycles, so how come you have a map of the entire state?"
"If you're gonna ride, you shouldn't mess around."
"You must have leg muscles for days,” I said.
"Feeling a little twitch of expectation?” he said with one raised eyebrow.
His house was one of those places that look like nobody lives there. Nothing was out of place, and there were few sentimental mementos. If he had an extended family, he kept their photos out of sight. The walls were bare, and the art objects that were on his various tables and shelves had been arranged by a designer. Even books on a shelf were shown as a color-coordinated sequence.
His furnishings were angular with plenty of metal and glass. There wasn't a smudge or piece of dust on anything. I was convinced that Chico had a basement for his regular life and was worried that I would mess things up just by walking through the rooms. White carpet? Great. Just great. I am not a white-carpet kind of guy, and riding a Harley with its spurts and highway bugs is just one reason. I'm not a slob, but white carpets are for people who live their life in a more sterile environment than me. I couldn't live like that, but I could certainly try to keep from upsetting Chico's pristine surroundings.
He apologized because he hadn't been expecting a guest.
"Apologize for what?” I asked.
"Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No, I'm good."
"Oh, sorry, I forgot. Would you like a soda?"
He remembered that he was entertaining Sean the alcoholic. The whole damn world knows my history. I guess the “anonymous” part of Alcoholics Anonymous is relative.
"No thanks,” I said. If he wanted a drink for himself, he decided against it as though the sight of seeing somebody else drink would make me want to drink. I appreciate the thought, but seeing booze going into somebody else has nothing to do with me. If being around alcohol was a real problem, I would never be able to go into a 7-Eleven or grocery store. Drugstores sell cough syrup with more alcohol
than whiskey.
Chico slid up to me and put his arms around my neck, and I reached around his waist. It was great being next to a man who was just as tall as me. I am usually the tall one of a couple, but we could meet eye-to-eye.
"You're a handsome one,” Chico said.
"You'll make me blush."
"Come on,” he said. “Want to swim?"
"No swim trunks."
"Yeah, me neither,” he laughed.
His backyard had a privacy fence to keep out voyeurs. As soon as we were in the backyard, he started working on my shirt. I returned the favor.
I got Chico's shirt off. He was fuzzy and just the right amount. If you show me somebody whose chest needs to be mowed, I am going to lose interest. But I like a bit of hair, and Chico offered up a nice amount around his well-developed chest. He had a little hair on his back. I hate back hair, but Chico only had a little down low on his back. It worked for him splendidly, and I thought that I might have to change my list of likes and dislikes. The hair on his back was sexy, not by itself but as part of the whole package.
I was admiring his chest for so long that he had me completely nude before I started on his pants.
"Whoops,” I said. “Got distracted with your chest."
"Take your time, hon,” Chico whispered. “I love it. You're really nice yourself."
When I got his pants down around his knees, I saw that he was wearing a cock ring. He had metal balls on the head of his dick. There was one ball on the top and another on the bottom. He had a stainless steel barbell going all the way through the tip of his dick. I think it went right through the tube thingy that piss and cum use. It was the kind of piercing that made you want to say “ouch” while biting the knuckle of your hand. I mean, ouch.
I bent over to kiss the tip of his tool, and it snapped to attention. The stainless steel barbell felt a little weird at first, but I got used to it quickly. What were you supposed to do with that kind of jewelry? Should I pull one end or rotate it with my tongue? I felt like I had been living a sheltered life. Would it make me seem like a country hick to ask?
He ran his fingernails down my back hard enough to scrape off the first layer of skin. Yikes! He must like to play rough. Point noted. I can do that.
"Um,” I said. “I don't know the protocol... I mean...."
"Apadravya,” he said.
"Apa...?"
"Dravya, apadravya. I also have a guiche,” he said as he pulled my hand to a loop hanging between his balls and ass.
Ouch, I thought to myself. Fucking ouch. I mean, ouch.
"They're both very erotic. I can take almost anything you dish out so long as you don't chomp down on them and try to take them to the next zip code."
"I don't want to hurt you.” And that was the truth.
"Okay, if I was afraid of pain, I wouldn't have gone for the apadravya."
"Hurt?"
"Let's say that it shouldn't be your first piercing unless you like using a porcupine as a dildo up your ass."
"Um... no, I'm good."
"Don't treat me like I'm fragile, Sean. I like it as rough as you want to give it."
He leaned over until he fell into the pool, and I followed. The water was much warmer than I would have guessed. It was early springtime, so he must have had a heater for the water. It wasn't quite hot enough to be a sauna, but it was certainly on the way there.
Chico disappeared underwater and swam up to me. I had never had an underwater blow job before. It was oozy and slick. I held the back of his neck. We were in a fairly shallow part of the pool, so I was standing on the bottom. The trouble with underwater blow jobs is that they happen underwater, and Chico didn't have gills. He had to come up for air after a half-minute, and he did so with a big grin.
"Tasty,” he said. I reached out to feel his dick. It was a good size, long and thin with a little upward curve.
He reached around to my back and pulled me closer as he nibbled on my ear. Ouch! I didn't say anything. Maybe I should have. He chomped down on my ear. He bit my neck. I get rough play, but I wasn't sure if he wanted me to return the roughness. Was there some kind of signal that guys used for that? I didn't mind the extra energy, but I wasn't very good at it.
To tell you the truth, I was still unsure about why I followed him home. It wasn't the kind of thing I would normally do. It wasn't like I picked Chico up at a bar. We had just met, but I knew him a little. It was a business meeting followed by a trick. I was there for sex, not a date.
Chico pulled himself onto me as he floated in the pool. He wrapped his legs around my waist, and I felt his hand working on my dick. He was moving me to his asshole.
No rubber: not going to happen. Me as a top: absolutely not going to happen.
"Maybe we should talk,” I said.
"What's wrong?"
"Mind if we use a rubber?"
"Sort of, but I'll work with whatever you want,” he pouted.
"Mind if we put the rubber on you, not me?"
"You're a bottom?” Chico asked.
"Yeah, ‘fraid so."
"But you're so butch and all, man,” he said. “I didn't think I could be surprised, but you sure... I mean, are you versatile or anything?"
"Not really, sorry,” I said. “We could do oral or hand jobs."
"Nope, not necessary,” Chico said. “Let's go inside. I can... you just surprised the shit out of me. I had been looking forward to... doesn't matter. I can fuck you. Sure. It'll be fun."
When we got to his bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed as I toweled some of the water out of my hair. He opened a drawer on a nightstand. I saw clothespins that were painted black, and some of them had rhinestones glued to the handles. I saw clamps and leather strips with snaps and studs. He had handcuffs and even some fur-lined cuffs that somebody once told me were used for feet. When I looked at the ceiling, I saw four heavy-duty eye screws in the ceiling. Because the rest of the house was so sterile and minimalist, I was sure that he had a reason to put four eye screws right above his bed. I couldn't imagine. I didn't even try to imagine.
He pulled out a bottle of poppers, but I told him no. I think I turned him down nicely, but there was no chance that I was going to let amyl (or whatever was the chemical du jour) into my lungs.
Chico pulled out a rubber and bottle of lube. As he put the condom on his dick, he leaned in and grabbed my tit with his teeth. Ouch! Did I mention that Chico likes to cause pain? Ouch.
He was not going to be cuddly and touchy. Chico didn't even like to kiss much, but he did like to share the moves of a couple of guys with plenty of testosterone.
Oh wait. Endorphins. Dude, bite me some more. My body was kicking in with a natural high, and I didn't have to tell anybody at AA about endorphins. I was getting stoned as my body reacted to Chico's biting.
Ouch! His teeth really hurt as he moved from one of my nipples to the other. His chest was really hairy, and the black hairs ran in circles around his tits. It was nice. His face was really smooth, but I guessed that he would have to shave twice a day if he had any fancy evening engagements.
I reached between his legs and found the guiche. It was a loop hanging right behind his sack. Instead of pulling on the loop, I pinched the skin on either side of the piercing. Chico growled from pleasure, so I guessed that was a good thing.
I thought of how it might be to have a guiche on the Harley. Fourth gear with a guiche. Oh my....
Chico leaned on top of me, pushing me over onto the bed, and followed me down. I released his guiche just in time, because there was no space between us. I let him move between my legs. He was already lubed. I felt residue when he grabbed my scrotum. He pulled my balls. He yanked them harder than I ever felt. Ouch! Okay that may have been too much.... Ouch! More endorphins hit my bloodstream. Okay, I'm good. Pull again. Grab my sac and pull hard!
He hooked both of his arms under my knees and pulled my legs up. He threw both my legs onto his chest and shoulders, and he pushed hard onto my body. He bent me back
like I was a soggy pretzel or a paper clip. I was six feet tall, and, with my legs well above my head, he pressed on me so that I felt like he had sent me through a trash compactor. He let his body come down on me, and I felt his entire weight press me into the mattress. I felt like I was going to look like a piece of dough coming out of a pasta roller, and I grinned at the thought. Endorphins do weird things to the mind.
Chico had good aim. He impaled me without struggling to find my opening. He put all his weight onto his entrance into my ass. Chico pressed against me, crushing me with my feet on his shoulders. It was a move that I had seen tops use to get extra penetration. He got my ass cheeks and legs out of the way to make room for his rod in my ass.
He never bothered to hug me or kiss me, and he certainly didn't whisper sweet sayings into my ear. Chico thrust his cock and that apadra-whatever-it-was piercing thing into my ass with plenty of force and absolutely no ceremony. He was just in me: bam.
He only waited for a second or two before he went full-tilt-boogie. There wasn't any build-up or crescendo. He just got into my ass and started fucking the ever-loving shit out of me. I heard his legs slapping up against me. Each time he tried to give it an extra little bit of oomph.
It was an easy fit because he wasn't too wide, but he was long enough that every stroke banged into my prostate. Every time he pushed, I felt more pre-cum heading out my dick. Bam. Bam. Bam. He stayed right on the edge of being too rough for me to handle, but he never crossed that invisible line.
Ouch! What was it with my ear and his teeth? Endorphins.
He grabbed both of my wrists and pulled my arms over my head. He wanted my body crushed under his full weight, and he wanted my hands pressed against the mattress with his own arms. There was nothing subtle about this man. He was an absolute animal. Bam. Bam. Bam.
Each stroke was long and solid. He kept me pinned to the bed with my legs bent as far up as they'd go. He didn't use handcuffs, but we were playing bondage without hardware. I couldn't move, not that I wanted to. Bam. Bam. Bam.
He built up a lot of sweat. I could feel that my chest and stomach were covered with his perspiration and my pre-cum.
