Adelina Anthony - Cowboy

Luckily, it takes my boys longer to figure out their sexuality. They're too busy trying to get pubescent panocha to prove their studliness. They overlook the fact that they're really in love with their own chorizos. Once they get past the societal bullshit, they realize a gay man's life is ideal. Dick whenever, from whoever, no questions asked. Well, at least that was the case in my early days; now everyone's freaked out about la pinche SIDA. But like I say, I have no problem with a complete stranger sucking my dick.

Like, who's that guy in the pool room? Now see, the pool room is where your older guys hang out. Men who could be as old as my father. My father probably looks like this hombre here. Good-looking tejano type with a small beer belly over his Wranglers. Yep, my dad would be wearing his ass-kicking boots, too, and, of course, the Stetson. But my father never smoked like this guy, my mama hated it. Made her asthma worse. And if this vato is the one who put Gloria Gaynor in the jukebox, he's definitely not el viejo. Dad was Texas Tornadoes day in and day out. Con-junto or nothin'. Ay, if there's nothing interesting on the main dance floor, I will definitely come back here, because the way this papasote is looking at me, he wants to burn his mouth with my chile.

Well, Junior, look who finally got in. Princess Gerald and his frog. I hope they stay at the side bar. I don't want to deal with diva shit tonight. And there's Randy, or is it Rudy? I don't remember, but he does have the cutest asshole, all salmon pink and precious. I'll just nod at fish-ass. I like to be polite. Just because I do a guy doesn't mean I have to be a cabron and not acknowledge him. Just hope he doesn't follow me, because I'm not feeling like Jewish tonight.

Maybe it's all the reminiscing, but what you need, Junior, is an all-out Hispanic faggot with a Catholic complex. The kind that is always praying because he feels guilty about everything, so it's natural for him to be on his knees. Those are the men who usually indulge themselves with my body. Maybe it's all of those years of taking Christ in their mouths.

And now we get to the end of our cruise and what do we have on the main floor? Some biker boys, some pain-in-the-ass queens, a decent mix of lesbians, a couple of corporate types, lots of beefcake and, oh my-Junior, your eyes have landed on paradise. If Emilio Navaira ever had a twin brother, that is him over in the corner. He's everything that was back in the pool room only twenty years younger. And I am of the Hollywood mindset: younger is definitely sexier. I've never seen this one. He must be visiting from Laredo; he looks bien bordertown.

Okay, Junior, time to move to the second and most essential clubbing step. Parking. I'll just take my fine ass to the bar where my cowboy is stationed and make myself look available. Did someone just grab my ass? Oh no-the pink princess is shouting in my ear.

Hey, Zorro, you got that nifty sword of yours handy?

I'll just smile and pretend I can't hear him. Gotta keep dancing my way to Emilio.

It's Randy! I forgive you if you forgot my name, we didn't exactly do much talkin' last Saturday!

Just keep moving, Junior. No, I can't be an asshole. Fuck my Catholic upbringing! You're looking good, Randy, but I came here with someone! So, are you alone again? Shit, he didn't hear me. Okay, you've been nice enough, Junior, Emilio is going to get away if you don't drop this mosca. Oh, thank God, the YMCA song. I'll run away when he makes the em. Even better, let's bump hips with these bikers and pray one of them takes an interest in fish-ass. Chingao, I hope Emilio isn't watching all of this; I don't want him to think I'm cheap. Yet. Bingo, there go Randy and Mr. Harley Davidson himself. Cupid should pay me a commission.

I can't believe I've been standing here for over three minutes and my Emilio hasn't even made a move. I've already thrown him the eye, step number three. I throw it any harder, I'll be left with two empty sockets. Chingao, maybe he's hitched. Let me see if he's looking at anyone in particular on the dance floor. Nadie. So what's wrong, papasito? He may not be interested-nah, impossible. Dio, don't tell me I'm dealing with the shy type. Maybe he's straight and this is his first night out. Oh, well, Junior, you can move on. Mexican Marlboro Man is waiting in the pool room. But this Emilio is extremely cute. I'm getting a hard-on just looking at him. No mustache to tickle your cock, an authentic baby face. Ah, fuck it-be a man and make the first move, Junior.

"Hey, what are you drinking? Can I buy you another one?" Uh-oh, he looks nervous, maybe he is here with someone. Maybe he can't hear me through the Gloria Estefan dance mix. Wait, is that a smile? And he's holding up his Lone Star. Aaajuuua! I'm at the bar.

"Hey, Javier, will you get me a Lone Star and a Corona?"

"Oh my God, you're going to, like, actually buy someone a drink?"

"I guess you don't want a tip?"

"I'm just kidding, her royal highness. Here you go. And by the way, I love the eye makeup."

"It's just eyeliner."

"Oh, but it's so you."

I hand my soon-to-be loverboy his beer and sit on the stool next to him. Oh, he's so kissable. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but my vibe says he's a maniac in bed. It's like mama used to say, Watch out for the quiet ones, mi'jo, they don't talk 'cause they've got the most to hide.

Nice nails. Trim and clean, says a lot about a man. I wonder what he does for a living? I'll ask him later, maybe between sessions. Best thing about picking someone up at a club, no need to talk. Oh, look at him chug that beer. Ay, Junior, this one definitely swallows. Just thinking about his mouth around my cock is working me up. That's what I need to do, just get him up and off that stool so I can take a peak at his package. Those jeans are tight enough to give me a sneak preview. Well, I've taken the lead so far, no sense turning femme now.

Jesus, Junior, if Gerald could see the butch in you now. Don't let go of Emilio's hand until you're bumping and grinding to the groove. Soft hands. Gracias a la virgencita I wasn't born during that waltz era. How the hell would you get close enough to a man's body and figure out if he's really into you? Really. Well, this is a pleasant surprise. My Emilio isn't too tall. I'd say about five feet eight and since he's wearing boots, maybe that makes him only a five-six or five-seven at best. Who cares, the boy has got some serious Latin rhythm going on. And from what I can tell in these flashing pink and blue lights, he makes up for size in other areas.

And he's not that shy. He's letting me rub against him like I'm cloth-shining his boots. If he's not careful with that sexy look of his, it's going to turn into a spit shine pretty quick. Ay, virgencita, are those his hands around my ass? Junior, I think he likes you. This has got to be the best part about dancing to techno, it's sex with your clothes on. And the way he's letting me buck against his ass, carajo, I gotta get him into a bathroom pronto. "Do you want to go to the bathroom?"

Oh, my God. I feel like such a dick. Did he just shake his head and reject me? No one has ever told me no. Who the fuck does Emilio think he is? What is he pulling out of his pocket? Keys. Keys? Keys! Oh, yeah, cowboy, let's go.

The back of his van. I thought he'd be driving a Chevy pickup, but he's got a Dodge van from the early eighties. Tinted windows, of course. And a bumper sticker that reads AUSTIN in rainbow colors, no wonder I haven't seen him at the Bonham. I gotta go to the capital more often. Doors open-and I thought I had seen everything, but this shit is amazing. There's so much leather in here we could piece together a cow. He nudges me inside. It's just too wicked to stop now.

The doors close behind us. I can barely see the club through the windows. He parked his van too far away for us to hear the music. Cold. Our breath is still coming out in clouds, until he puts his mouth to mine. It's obvious both of us are naturals. Sluts, that is. His tongue and mine wrestle the way our bodies are gonna. Oops, his hat just fell off. I put one hand against the back of his head-ooh very soft hair-and the other on his ass-very tough-and suck-suck his beery breath. Curl my fingers around his biceps while he pushes me onto his mattress. I move my hand to touch his dick-his pelvis pulls back. I guess he wants to be in control. Short man syndrome? He's chulo enough to have me play along.