Half-Peruvian, Half-Brazilian

by Diego

If you are half Peruvian and half Brazilian you can automatically marry me. So I just had to say yes when one of my Craigslist tricks asked for a second date. "So we can finish up what we started off", he said. The truth is the condom broke and we were too freaked out to keep the fucking going afterwards. He put his do-rag back on and went back to Jersey, leaving me with blue balls -- too jaded to even post another ad.

So we met up at Splash a week later, for happy hour, which is surprisingly crowded at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday. He was late, which was fine, it's a cultural thing -- I understand it. After I had run out of people to text-message "I am likely to get fucked by a half-Peruvian half-Brazilian guy from Jersey" to, I just ordered a drink and practiced my aloof hot facial expression. You don't want to look bored, but you don't want to look overtly excited for his arrival either.

When he finally arrives we, non-surprisingly, have nothing to talk about. He is only 5 foot 6, but since he is Latin, I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. He says we should go downstairs, so off we go. He is also drinking wine, which is cute, because that's what I'd ordered for myself. In no time we are discussing our up-bringing, God, European Cinema, the Horoscope, touching each other all over and I'm already planning the civil union in my head.

When I stand up to go to the bathroom he tells me he has a hard-on from having caught a glimpse of my "prominent derriere". By then I know I am at least sucking this Latin God off tonight. After many drinks we eat up at Nooch or one of those faggoty-ass Chelsea restaurants where the food is mediocre but the atmosphere is fab. Then we go to a karaoke bar and make a fool of ourselves. He sings Bon Jovi and I sing Madonna, which seems appropriate in terms of which roles we should be taking in bed: him the stud, me the whore. I'm glad he seems to know it.

He has that kind of Latin duality to his appearance: a deep sense of tenderness hidden by a rough swagger. The kind of guy who makes his hard times a little obvious by the fact that he never smiles. I am considering kids at this point, and envisioning a religious ceremony in Lima with all 68 of his cousins.

When we finally make it to my place he takes charge like a Latino does: without hesitation. He forces my head down to his dick (uncut and copiously pre-cumming) and flips me around like I'd given him carte blanche to rape me. When I begin feeling a bad smell I know the condom is totally dirty -- possibly a small turd hanging off my ass. So he pulls out, puts another condom on and keeps on fucking me. Latin men aren't queasy like white fags. They could give a shit, excuse the pun, if the condom is dirty. He also spanks me lightly, as if it was a warning: "if I make you my regular bitch I'll do it much harder, faggot".

We go through 5 or 6 condoms and he falls asleep on my bed, refusing to let me spoon him. He turns me around abruptly and grabs me from behind, making sure I always have my back facing him. When he wakes up the next day and leaves without much fanfare I get worried. Is the wedding called off? But, then, he text-messages me right after to thank me for an amazing time. And I think to myself: ain't no white man's Wall Street job more alluring than a poor Latin boy's loving. It's okay, we will keep the guests to a minimum.

For more Diego, click here.