Adelina Anthony - Cowboy

I love the way he respects silence. No need for having to think of something sexy or sweet to say on the spot. It always comes out sounding so corny, or I feel like shit because I know I'm lying to the guy. I dated this writer from Colombia once and he wouldn't let me touch his dick unless I came up with a metaphor. That didn't last long. What would I tell Emilio if he started talking? If he'll be my wetback, I'll be his border patrol? He starts unbuttoning my shirt, I close my eyes and listen to the stream of traffic rushing on the 1-35 nearby. I place my hands behind my head so he can strip search me.

Smooth tongue works down my chest like he's licking an envelope. Then it lingers at the edge of my pants like a truant kid walking back and forth along the school fence waiting for his chance to jump it. There he goes. Emilio doesn't unzip me though. He's play-biting my dick and it likes him. I must be eight inches now. I wonder if he didn't let me touch him because he's smaller than me. I swear, machos can be so sensitive about those things.

Ay, yes, that's it, Emilio, unzip me and kiss it with those fideo-thin lips. He's really good at this. No teeth. Just his tongue massaging my dick in warm circles. A little moth dancing around my pole. My stomach muscles are getting tighter, gotta start holding back the juice. Ay, it's that good kind of hurt. The kind that makes the coming tingle in my tummy. Chingao, I can't wait to reciprocate the favor, whatever size he is. Wait, why did he stop?

Carajo, this is too much. He's dangling a pair of handcuffs. But what the fuck? Are you going to go to your grave without the experience of at least one guy tying you up? Lose control every now and then, or why be fucking gay? And I don't know what it is about this vato, but I feel like I can trust him. Like he's got something nurturing about him. Or maybe it's just my taut chorizo doing the feeling and thinking for me. I nod my head, sit up and hold out my hands. I am an offering. He grabs a piece of black cloth hanging from the window and starts-blindfolding me? Well, they do call me Zorro. Click-click-click goes the first handcuff around my wrist. Freezing metal teeth. Emilio moves quickly behind me and kisses the back of my neck. Ah, chingao, how did he know that was my weak spot? I'm Jack Frost in a microwave. Hold on! No fucking fair! How did he do that?

"Hey, chulo, hold on. I don't mind being handcuffed, but not from behind."

"Shhhh!"

Ah, shit, Junior. You better pray this guy isn't a homophobic killer. Dumb ass, of course he was going to handcuff you from behind. Vulnerable. Breathe. Just relax. This is part of the juego. See, your dick is still into him. All part of the fun. What's life without a little danger? Shut up idiota, you're a joto, you're always in danger. Now what is he doing? I could resist. Ah, fuck it. Whatever happens happens. A gag? Okay, this is beyond cliche. All he needs to do now is throw me on my stomach and-there he goes. How did I know that was coming? All right, Emilio, now I'm all yours. What are you going to do, kick my culo for being such a trusting faggot? Ah-he kisses my neck again. His touch is all gentle. I guess he feels he can be nice again, now that he's utterly in control. Hands massage my back. God, his hands are so silky. This ain't too bad, I should've tried this sooner. Okay, Emilio knows he's got me hot and bothered, I'm rubbing myself so hard against his mattress, he's got to know I want to be inside his mouth again.

Ay, yes, he's a mind reader. We are so connected. That's it, baby, take my pants off. I'll lift my ass up in the air so you can unzip me. He's having problems. See Emilio, if we had just done this the old-fashioned way I could've helped you with my chaps. Now what? Where is he going? He can't leave me like this. What's he opening? A door? No, I would have felt a chill or something. Glove compartment? He's back but what's he trying to do to my leg? Tie it? No way, man. Now I'm going to make him earn his little masochist thrill. Where is the motherfucker? Just keep kicking in the air, Junior, you're bound to give him a good chingazo. Hey, where the fuck is the parking attendant when you need him? Carajo, I'm dealing with a real vaquero here, he's sitting on my knees and tying my ankles to who knows what. All right, Emilio, you win. I'm splayed like the fingers of the peace sign. Peace, brother, ever heard of that?

Hey! Did he just cut my pants? Cabron, these cost me three hundred dollars! Hold on. Is he using a knife? Jesucristo, get me alive out of this one and I'll-I'll-Oh, wait a second, false alarm. That's more like it, Emilio. He knows he's got me scared shitless, so he's kissing my ass-literally.

Ssshhh! Another deep kiss between my butt cheeks. Ssshhh- ssshhh-yeah, easy for you to say, Emilio. I wonder how turned on he is by all of this? Not that I'm one to talk, my chorizo gets any harder I'm going to bruise my stomach. I hear a popping sound. Now what is he grabbing? A zipper. Well, I know how I'm getting it tonight, that's no surprise. A jangle, and it ain't fucking Santa. Must be some belts. I hope he doesn't spank the shit out of me. I have to work Monday. He's squeezing a bottle. Ah well, at least we know he's considerate. He's rubbing plenty of cold lube around my asshole. It's gotta be that brand called WET, rub it and it gets hotter, 'cause that's what I'm feeling.

See, Junior, he's definitely not a cabron. He could just ram it inside of you. But he's actually being very sensitive about his entry. I knew I could trust him. Ay, he's coming inside of me inch by inch. I don't know what he was worried about, he's got a hell of a package. I think I've met my match. His legs are starting to sweat between mine. He grabs on to my shoulders and I can feel every thrust vibrate inside of me. I extend my fingers and they reach the edge of his pubic hair. It's the softest pubic hair I've ever touched, like a newborn's head.

Ay virgencita, there's nothing like a tejano. He rides like a thousand cowboys are in his veins. C'mon Emilio, baby, take me on your Chisholm Trail. God, I'll be your saddle any day after tonight. What was I scared of? Why does this guy feel so fucking good from behind? There he goes, coming so fast his tiny shrieks sound like an eagle or a boiling teapot. And me, I'm coming right along. Hold on, Emilio. Hear the hooves beating along the path? Or maybe that's just my handcuffs scraping against each other. Who cares-all I know is that we're both riding into that fucking sunset. He bellows and all I see is tiny lights. The blackness gives way to red, orange and then yellow spots. The pinche sol envelops us. I feel its warm rays all over my body-virgencita, I think I'm in love.

I wish he would at least take off my gag, my nose pressed upon this mattress makes it difficult to breathe. He's fallen on top of me and I can smell his sweat. Like cumin. My stomach is all wet from my juice, but that's a small due to pay for the pleasure. Hold on. I just realized something. He's still inside of me. Hard. How is that possible? Chingao, Junior, have you really met your dream man? Now that's he's removing the gag with his teeth, maybe you should at least find out his name. We can't keep calling him Emilio just because he looks like your favorite tejano singer.

"So, what's your name, loverboy?" He cuts the rope off of my legs.

"Martha."

What? Martha Serrano. Off with the blindfold. If I weren't such a macho, maybe I'd cry. But all I can do is laugh like an idiot. My dream man is sitting in front of me Indian-style, her hot pink strap-on dildo pointing to the gods. Jesus.

Adelina Anthonyis an interdisciplinary Xicana lesbiana artist-a writer/actor/director/cultural activist. She is cofounder and artistic director of Los Angeles ' MACHA Theatre Company, which produces works by lesbians of color. Her op-eds are published by the Progressive Media Project; her poetry has been published in Texas and Germany; and her short stories appear in Texas Short Stories II, Nerve, and Pillow Tal\ III.