I Fucked a Dream Made Flesh

The best one I ever had was a boy from Colombia. He was a short, cute guy who walked into the gay beach bar on a very slow night. I was instantly attracted to him. I walked up, introduced myself, and started talking to him. His name was Carlos Alberto, and he was in town for business. We must have talked for a couple of hours, before I suggested that we go for a walk. We found a clandestine place under a palm tree, and we smiled at each other. Then, we French kissed, felt each other up, exchanged phone numbers, and called it a night.

The second night, we went to his hotel room to fuck. We fooled around to get all horny and superhard. Then, we did the porn star pre-fuck rituals: We got naked, and I slapped on a condom and a generous amount of lube. Carlos Alberto got on all fours at the edge of the bed, so I could enter him while standing up. I pushed my dick a little into his beautiful round ass, then slowly pulled back a bit, a little in, a little back, in, back, in, back, until slowly, slowly I was inside him.

The closet doors were full length mirrors, and I watched myself slowly fuck my hot boy from the back. He moaned at every thrust. Loud trade always makes me feel like a goddamn, motherfucker of a real man. I also watched my vanilla white body move against his burning olive skin, as I began to fuck him faster. His screams became shorter, faster, and louder with pleasure. A warm feeling raced through me. Our toned bodies looked so fucking hot and athletic in the mirror.

I wasn't prepared for that. We really looked good together. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My eyes teared up. I felt like I was melting. I'd been with other boys, but it had never felt so good, so natural, so compatible, so beautiful, so overwhelming. I began to vary my thrusts. I gave Carlos Alberto every fuck combination I knew: two deep thrusts and three shallow ones, three deep, one shallow, one deep, four shallow, etc.

Our first fuck got to be too much for us. He came and hollered at every squirt. I came inside him a little later. I wanted to keep fucking him, but he put his hand on my thigh. I had worn him out. I stayed inside of him and just bent over and hugged him. I had found the one. We spent the following nights naked in that hotel room. We did every position: lotus, doggie, standing, butterfly, missionary, pillar and the ivy, etc. We'd fuck, shower, sleep, then wake up horny and repeat the cycle.

Once in a great while, we'd go to the bar, just to take a break. A friend of mine got me alone, briefly tickled my stomach, and asked, "Who's the boy?" I told him what had happened, and he said, "Oh, you're kind of smitten by him, and he's kind of smitten by you." He was right. Carlos Alberto and I were so fucking into each other.

Eventually, he had to leave. He lived in a different city far away. We stayed in touch for a while, but life intervened. I found a boyfriend, and he did, too. We never saw each other again, but occasionally I think about young Carlos Alberto. Between us, there was no problem, no hang-up, no obstacle. It was as if we had been created to fuck each other. I hope I meet another guy like that, another boy in the mirror, another reflection in my eyes, another man in my image.

Photo Credits:
Sleeping Couple 1 -- Unknown origin;
Boy in Bed 2 -- Eric Nies from The Real World: New York 
     (1992 / Season 1);
Latin Guy Walking 3 -- Unknown origin; Shorts: No Fear;
Forest Satyr 4 -- Model Ryan Woods.