Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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After teaching Spanish for fifteen years in Los Angeles schools I was burned out and took an early retirement. I wanted a complete change in my life and moved to a small farming community on the west coast of Mexico. I had long ago decided that anybody who I was going to have continual contact with would have to know I was gay. I didn’t intend to live a life of deception. This was me, take it or leave it. The house I bought was in a cluster of five homes with other neighbors being some distance away. My nearest neighbors accepted me as a friend and I became a participant in their family get-togethers. Jose and Marta had five kids, all spaced three years apart, and all beautiful. How they did this is one of the mysteries of nature, because neither of them was very good looking. The oldest was a boy, (who I wrote about earlier) two girls and two more boys. Joselito, named after his father (meaning ‘little Jose’) was three when I arrived. Marta was pregnant with what was to be their last child. It was a boy who Jose unpardonably named Gandhi. When Joselito was twelve I started paying him small amounts to help me around the house. I had gathered two dogs, a cat, a half dozen chickens, several caged birds and a goat. I also liked to travel, both getting to know other parts of Mexico and returning to the States to visit friends and family. Joselito had a key to my house so he isvecbahis could feed and water my animals and plants when I was gone. He would also help me do things like build sheds, repair fences and paint the house. I had watched him grow into a beautiful teenager. At seventeen he was about 5’9” tall, slim but strong and had a handsome face. He was bright, polite and could still be playful. I started having jackoff fantasies about him, but didn’t want to try anything that would damage our relationship. He had become an important component of my life. During the first few years I had lived there I had made out with a couple of the men of the community, one a farmer and the other a mechanic and both married. The farmer was just curious I think, or wasn’t getting enough from his wife. The mechanic told me as a younger man he had gotten blowjobs or fucked a few asses, but hadn’t done anything in many years. It was sort of a trip back in time for him. Both of them fucked me, and they weren’t bad, but nothing to be recorded in a diary. The community where I lived was fifteen miles from a small town. When I got horny I’d drive into town and troll the bars until I found what I wanted and then rent a room at a cheap motel where they didn’t ask any questions. It was surprisingly easy to pick up young men who had had a lot to drink and couldn’t afford a prostitute, or had been isveçbahis giriş slow dancing with bar girls all night and had ended the evening with raging hard-ons. Fall was arriving and the days were getting shorter and the air crisper. I decided we needed to trim some tree branches before the heavy winds of October and the pacific storms that would follow. It was late afternoon when we finished and I left Joselito to clean up. I went inside and to my bedroom and lay on the bed on my back. Not too long after I heard Joselito come into the house and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. I called out, “I’m in here.” He came and stopped for a moment at the door, then took a few quick long steps and jumped onto the bed, straddling me and grabbed my wrist pinning my hands down beside my head. This was all new and unexpected, but I found it exciting and titillating. I asked, “What’s up?” He replied with a question. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure, you can ask me anything. I don’t know if I’ll have the answer, but ask away.” He let go of my wrists and sat back, but was still straddling my hips, basically sitting on my cock. “Is it true what they say?” “It depends who they are and what they’re saying,” I said. He kind of looked down, avoiding my eyes. “That, you know… that you like boys.” I’m sure that Joselito had grown up knowing I was gay, but I guess isveçbahis yeni giriş it was so accepted he had never thought about it, or what it meant. I lifted his chin so he was looking at me. “You know me and you know I’m gay. I don’t like boys, but I do like men…young men. Why, who have you been talking to?” He said, “Nobody. Well… Jacobo.” Jacobo was a local boy about four years older than Joselito. One Saturday evening, when I was driving into the town to do some shopping and probably go cruising, I had passed him standing on the side of the highway waiting for the bus. I stopped and offered him a ride. Ten minutes later I pulled off the highway onto a dirt road, drove a short ways, parked under some trees and sucked him off. It had been an easy conquest. He was hot and ready. He had unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out a very nice piece of uncut meat. I had sucked and licked it for about ten minutes and then he had jacked it while I licked the head. It took another five minutes of alternate jacking and sucking and he almost screamed when he came, what I’d like to call gallons of cum. It really was an amazing amount. That had been a one-time performance. “And what did Jacobo tell you?” “That, you know.” “No, I don’t know. I wasn’t there to hear him. You tell me and I’ll tell you if it’s true.” I don’t know if I was protecting myself, or wanted to hear him say the words. I suspect the latter. “He said you sucked his cock.” I looked Joselito in the eye. “Well, yes, I did that.” “Then why not me?” I wasn’t sure I wasn’t hallucinating. He was wearing basketball shorts made of a silky nylon fabric.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32