I took an EcoBici from the bike sharing station and saddled up for a lap around La Ciudadela to see what was going on. Or like they say in Spanish, ‘A ver lo que se de.’
I passed what I called the gay for pay corner first. This part had the most car traffic creep by, and since it wasn’t a major traffic thoroughfare, all the traffic was doing exactly what I was doing.
There were guys here, stationed in between the boarded up taco stands, no matter how crowded or empty the rest of the park was.
A few nights ago I passed through when it was pretty empty. There was a muscular jock standing with his large, bulky cock in his hand. I passed by and he stroked it aggressively for me. I could tell that he was trying to figure something out about me as he stared at me suspiciously.
He was looking more closely than anybody else needed to in order to tell that I wasn’t from Mexico and that I was probably from Los Estados Unidos. As soon as he figured this out he began screaming, his cock still in his hands;
“Fuck you”
Then “Get out of here!”
And finally “Get out of my country!”
This had never happened before. I circled back around, curiously, to find out a little more. I wanted to ride by again and see what he said a second time. As hard as he was trying to scare me away from his corner, I took comfort in two things
I had been granted temporary residency through 2025
I was on a bike, and he was on foot.
I rode by a second time, scared and cautious. He repeated everything as if I were a completely different gringo. He didn’t recognize me, and he gazed at me puzzled until he erupted and shouted something like
“Fuck you gringo.”
I think he could see that I wan’t scared, for all the reasons I just listed, so he, picked up a rock from the ground, reached back, and threw it at me.
I wan’t expecting this and it definitely scared the shit out of me, causing me to pedal away as fast as I could in whatever direction I was already going.
Tonight was Saturday, it had been one week since I saw Adan on this same corner. We had met up twice last week. I wrote him earlier to see if he’d be available but he stopped responding to me when I told him I was going to the symphony alone. It was really obvious he wanted to come with me, even though I had told him several times how this was a solo ritual that I really loved doing by myself.
Plus I only had one ticket and the summer season was sold out.
None of this would have made any difference to Adan. After a week of repeating our charade I was beginning to remember that Adan was looking to other men for way more than any of us could be expected to deliver.
I recognized the neglect that he suffered, the neglect that all of us men out here are victims of. I should have run from it, but instead it brought me into his orbit once again. I thought I could save him. I wanted him to need what I could give to him.
Neither of us knew how much we really needed.
The gay for pay corner was crowded. Chacales of all shapes and sizes stood in between the taco stands, their jeans unbuttoned, their zippers down, a their cocks, hung out waiting to be eaten up by hungry customers like me.
Behind all of this was a circle jerk of about 5 or 6 guys, inside of the park, by the fountain. I couldn’t see much more, these orgies broke out spontaneously in the darkest parts of La Ciudadela. I made a note that I was going to check it out on my second lap around.
They were still there when I came back. There were more of them, probably 12 or 15. They were standing by an empty fountain painted blue, on the inside. There was no water running at this time of night. They were all crowded around to watch as a chacal, this one a paying customer, was fucking a transvestite from behind one of the taco stands. They fucked silently while standing up. They went on fucking for a long time, hidden behind the wall of so many curious eyes and bodies.
On the edge of the mob, la orilla, was a chacal who I had seen on the other side of the park. I recognized him because he had more swagger than most of the guys here. Most guys here wore clothes that blended in. But this guy had on a faded purple hoodie.
His pants were pulled down enough to expose his cock, which stuck out like a coat hanger, angled down, no curves at all. It hung that way with no help from his hands. He saw I was looking at him and he greeted me, in English,
“Hi,” he said, in English.
He talked as if he was playing a game of pick up basketball and he wanted me to join his team.
“Cash?” He said asked. Again in English.
His playful style and his cut to the chase inability to play games matched perfectly with mine. I hopped off my bike, engaged the kick stand, and slowly approached him.
He stood still as I walked toward him. His arms fell to his sides and his cock fell forward. Our eyes were locked on one another. As I approached him I took his cock in my hand.
“Cuanto me cobrarías?” (How much?)
“Dos cincuenta.” he responded. ($250MX, $10.25US)
“Va.” (Lets go)
The other chacal was still fucking the transvestite behind the taco stand and the rest were still looking on, most everybody had their cock in their hands. I grabbed my bike and walked it beside me, my chacal was on my other side. His name was Fernando.
We entered a hotel room after walking across La Ciudadela through the Saturday night spectacle. Now we had our little piece of privacy to ravage one another for all we could take. He headed straight to the bathroom, I looked over the room trying to decide which side I would claim for myself.
I didn’t hear the shower running, only music coming from his cellphone. He was trying over and over to get fire to come out of a lighter. I sat down on the side of the bed away from the doorway, took out my marijuana from inside my larger bag, ground up some weed, packed a bowl, and smoked a little. I took my shirt off, smoked a little more, then got up and opened the door to the bathroom without knocking.
He was sitting on the toilet, naked, his pants down around his ankles. My eyes gazed slowly over his brown body, his thick bush of hair, his monster cock which he had tempted me with outside, still stood halfway hard, just as I remembered. The thin rolls of skin around his belly button lay flat across his abdomen showing that he hadn’t eaten in a long time.
He looked up, quickly, ready to defend himself, until he saw me reach out and give him my lighter. He smiled, took the crack pipe from his mouth and took the lighter with the same hand. I stood in front of him so that my belly stuck out into his personal space, I grabbed his chin, bent down, and gave him a strong, sloppy kiss. I wanted the kiss to feel more like a slap on the face.
I let his chin go and he looked up at me from the toilet. He smiled, reached down between his legs, took some water from the toilet, and continued cleaning himself.
I walked out and closed the door behind me.
He came out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and loose tighty-whities. He lay himself on the bed, pulled his shirt over his head and kept it there, like a mask. His arms lay flat behind his head exposing two clusters of sweaty unkempt arm pit hair. His body was taller and more muscular than most other chacales I pick up from La Cuidadela. The rest of his body was hairless and glowing. He lay on the bed like a whale carcass, with subtle abs that lead down to more hairs that exploded out of his underwear. The tighty-whities were trying to contain his elephant trunk penis.
His penis wasn’t hard anymore. It must have been the crank that made him soft, but his cock was falling out of his underwear just by its own weight.
It didn’t shrivel up, it stayed thick. I loved to suck off cocks in this position. I took it in my mouth and juggled his stubby gummy penis and two testicles of the same texture.
Soon the cock was harder than it was out in the Park. It was no longer a straight peg hanging down from his body. It now curved up. It was long enough for me to hold with both my hands as I studied the shape of its head with my mouth, tasting every inch until there was no taste anymore.
He was still lying down with his t-shirt mask on. I hovered over him on my hands and knees devouring his cock. He was strong enough, big enough, and hard enough to jump off the bed, walk around behind me, spit on my ass, and then fuck me to death.
But I could see that he had done too much crystal, in the bathroom, and was pretty much dead at the moment. I studied him with my tongue as he slowly came back to life.
Suddenly he turned over, got on his hands and knees, his ass was pointing straight at me. It was way to high up for me to fuck, it was closer to my face than to my cock. I saw the tiny hole open up slowly, then I noticed he already had his crack pipe in his hands and was smoking more.
He blew the smoke underneath him and it spread out across the neatly made bed sheets and cascaded down to the floor off the edge of the bed.
There was so much smoke from just one hit. I could have inhaled it and probably gotten quite high, but instead I buried my face inside the crack of his ass so that I wouldn’t inhale any.
I had my own drugs and frankly I was scared of crystal. I didn’t want to stay up for the rest of the week with nervous energy constantly preoccupied with getting more.
But I couldn’t deny I was tempted. He was tempting me. He was blowing it beneath his body and I knew enough to know that inhaling it just once would take us to a place where there was more of what we were doing than my drugs and my imagination could ever reach on their own.
The rest of the night lasted another hour. But I never really know. At this time the only other thing competing for my attention is my going to bed. He took control over everything, all while perched at the end of the bed on all fours.
He began teasing my cock with his ass. I could tell we need lube. I tore open a mini ketchup packet of male lubricant that they hand out at La Clinica Condesa.
With the lube I slid right into him just like the smoke slid across the bedsheets. He moaned from a place deeper than I could reach inside of him.
He never kept me inside of him for long though. He seemed to love it when my cock entered him more than anything. I knew it was impossible to imagine what he was feeling after smoking so much crystal. At this point I was just standing at the end of the bed admiring the beauty of the ugliest parts of his body in all of its vulnerability.
I walked down one flight of stairs, through the hotel lobby, and out the front door, into the night. Adan had texted me while I was inside of Fernando.
“Eché un chakal. Voy saliendo del hotel. Que haces?” I responded.
I knew he wouldn’t write back. If I went back to La Ciudadela I’d probably see him. Fernando would be back too.
Brilliantly written