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 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 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 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.

I looked down and could see clearly the shape of a hard cock, much larger than I had imagined. I put my hand on it and squeezed.

“Are you telling me you want me to suck this?”

The look on his face was one of shock, quickly followed by a silly grin. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Joselito, you can’t guess about this. You want it or you don’t. I do it or I don’t. But once I do it I can’t undo it. So be sure before we do something you’ll regret.”

My hand was still holding his cock. He put his hand on mine, pushing it firmly, and bent down and kissed me full on the mouth. “What?” My mind exploded.

I pushed him up and tried to get his cock out, which was impossible from the way he was sitting. He got off me and stood up, pulled the shorts and his boxers down and stepped out of them, leaving on his socks and T shirt. I leaned over and took what I’d guess to be an almost seven inch long cock in my mouth.

His knees gave way and he nearly fell, catching the edge of the bed. I grabbed his thin hips and pulled him back onto the bed, over me so he was fucking my face. His T shirt was hanging down, blocking his view of his cock and my mouth. After a couple of minutes he sat up, his cock still firmly in my mouth, and pulled his T off. I guess fucking comes naturally after a certain age. He didn’t have to be told what to do. At a later date he told me he had not had sex before, and I have no reason not to believe him.

I loved lying there looking up at this viral young man with a beautiful body and a really great face, his nice long cock in my mouth. This wasn’t only better than anything I’d had in years, it was better than my fantasies. This was real hard flesh and hot blood. But after several more minutes it was getting uncomfortable and I pushed him so he would figure out what I wanted to do.

He lay on his side and I moved down and took his cock in my mouth again. He returned to the fucking motion, and continued to do it easily and smoothly. He didn’t seem to need any stimulation or hard fucking for his enjoyment or to bring him to the climax. I’d guess twelve or fifteen minutes more of my sucking him brought him to that glorious moment. He wasn’t a talker or shouter. His body and breathing told me what was happening and about to happen.

I grabbed his ass cheeks and held him tight as he shot his man milk into my waiting mouth. I swallowed each load as it came out, sucking every drop from his hot meat. When he was spent we lay without moving for a minute, then I gently sucked and licked it clean of any residue I might have missed.

When I finally decided there was no more juice to be had and let it slip out, it had mostly returned to its soft shape. I kissed it two or three times and then moved up so our noses were touching. I pursed my lips and kissed him, but gently, not forcing my tongue into his mouth. I wanted it to be an innocent and sweet moment.

I asked, “Did you like it”

He smiled and nodded yes.

“Would you ever want to do it again?”

Again the nod.

We lay there for several minutes while I ran my hands over his smooth back and sculpted chest.

“I’d better get home for dinner,” he said.

I let him get up and get dressed. “When you get home from school tomorrow I want to clean out the goat’s pen.”

He simply said, “Okay,” and left.

For the next two years we had sex frequently. I never pushed it…we did it when he suggested it, but being a growing teen it was often. I of course introduced him to ass fucking, which he of course loved. We tried different positions (except doggie style, which I hate) and settled on the one he liked; on our sides with him behind me and his arms wrapped around me tightly, playing with my tits.

He was never a pounder, but preferred a slow steady fucking, his long cock sliding smoothly in and out of my satisfied asshole. When I wanted to suck him off so I could taste his cum he was all for it. I eventually rimmed him, and though at first he was a little shocked, he liked it so much he’d ask me to do it. We would kiss, but they never were passionate kisses. Tongues were used, but in a friendly rather than a loving way, if that makes sense.

Joselito was the first member of his family to graduate from high school. I bought him a laptop for a graduation present, his first computer. Our sex had become much less frequent in the last six months and he admitted he had acquired a girlfriend. They didn’t have sex, but he spent most of his free time with her, and had started feeling guilty about our activities. He decided he wanted to enter the two-year college that was located in town, which meant he had to work and go to school at the same time, so we saw each other much less than before.

Shortly after completing the two years he told me he was getting married. By this time our sex life was history.

I went to the wedding and at the after reception he took a couple minutes when we were alone to say to me, “I feel I should tell you, if you ever decide to do anything with Gandhi, that is if you haven’t already, be careful. He’s sexually very active. I think he fucks everything he can, and I doubt the dummy uses any protection. So do it if you want, but take precautions.”

I was surprised at his candor but appreciated the thoughtfulness. I hadn’t really thought about Gandhi as a sex partner. He was too scatterbrained, but he was eighteen and handsome.

So, maybe?

THE END

This is the second fictional story using the members of an actual family. The first one was “Paying Carlos,” which I published here a year ago. The people are real, but the names and location have been changed. I’ve also changed the names and location from the previous story. All the events are entirely invented. It’s an “I wish” fantasy.