Date: Sun, 13 Mar 2005 06:25:17 -0800
From: Jingjok <lizwrite@earthlink.net>
Subject: Black Eyed Boy chapter 1

Black Eyed Boy

by Jingjok

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WARNING: The following material contains depictions of explicit sexual
activity. If the laws of your jurisdiction do not permit you to view such
material, please leave here at once and go to where you can learn how to
work to change the laws of your jurisdiction. If you are offended by such
material, please seek psychiatric counseling to discuss why you are here in
the first place.

On the other hand, if you simply don't care for the type of material
indicated by the story codes, well, have a nice day.

gay, beginnings, interracial, teens

DISCLAIMER: The following is entirely a work of fiction. All of the parts
in this drama are portrayed by mature actors who are masters of makeup and
disguise.

=====

Chapter 1

The fiesta was in front of a church only a few blocks from our hotel. It
was our second day in San Miguel and we had gone to tour the inside of the
church that afternoon. My parents figured I could find my way there and
back, and they wanted to rest after dinner. I took off on my own, walking
in the balmy air of the evening.

About half way there, I noticed a local boy leaning against a doorway. He
looked to be about my height and maybe around the same age, sixteen. He
wore white cotton trousers and a white shirt with the long sleeves rolled
up above his elbows. It hung open in the front, exposing the caramel skin
of his chest and belly. I remember I licked my lips then. Maybe that's what
gave me away.

When I came closer he flashed a bright white smile and greeted me, "Hola,
amigo."

I looked at his face. Below the straight black hair that fell over his
forehead were the warmest, most beautiful black eyes I'd ever seen. The
guide book warned about staring at one of these macho Mexican men and
threatened dire consequences if he took offense, but I couldn't help myself.

Then I saw he had a companion, a taller, older hard looking guy with a hawk
like nose and cold, hard eyes that I only saw for a second. He was the one
the guide book had in mind, I was sure. I walked quickly away and stopped
in front of a crowded restaurant with sidewalk tables. I turned and looked
back and couldn't help but smile at the boy.

He came to meet me, leaving his threatening pal behind. "Are you going to
the fiesta?" he asked in English with a slight accent.

I looked at those warm black eyes again. "Yes," I said.

And then I couldn't believe the words really came out of my mouth. "Would
you like to come with me?" I asked.

"I'd like that very much," he said. "My name is Pablo. What is your name?"

"My name is Alan," I said.

"Ah-LAHN," he repeated it, accenting the last syllable as if it were, well,
not a Spanish name I guess, but French perhaps. I loved the way he
pronounced it.

We set off, making our way along the crowded sidewalks to the old church. A
stage had been set up on the flat area in front of the big wooden doors,
and a troupe of high school age boys and girls dressed in white were
dancing to the music of a mariachi band.

In the sunken plaza before them, trees festooned with strings of twinkling
white lights surrounded a crowded area of people sitting at little tables.
Pablo asked if I had any money, and when I nodded, we found an empty table
there with two chairs and a red and white checkered tablecloth with a
candle in the middle. A waitress came by and Pablo gave her an order in
Spanish.

I looked at the stage. Now there were a dozen boys dancing, each one in
identical white trousers and a white hat with a red band. I took a breath,
admiring their brown torsos. Then I looked at Pablo, and the dancing boys
were nothing.

His shirt was open wide now, the tails falling by his hips. The contrast
between his white trousers and brown waist took my breath away. His dark
nipples were visible now, and his smooth belly drew my eyes like a bee to a
flower. I was suddenly aware that I wanted to lick him all over.

What was I feeling? I'd looked at boys in the school shower back home, but
I'd never felt like this. My dick was stretching until it bent
uncomfortably, trapped in a fold of my Jockey shorts. I had to do
something, and there was no way to hide it. I reached down and gave it a
quick adjustment. When I looked at Pablo he was grinning and his black eyes
were sparkling.

The waitress arrived with a pitcher of beer and two frosty glasses, and a
bowl of what looked like beans and cheese with a lot of toasted tortilla
chips. I'd never tasted beer before, but if there were ever an occasion for
it, this had to be it. I paid the waitress while Pablo poured two foaming
glasses. He raised his with a toast, "To our friendship."

"To our friendship," I responded, raising my glass.

We drank, and I decided I liked the tart, bitter taste. Pablo reached over
and flicked his finger over the end of my nose. When he held it out to me,
I licked the white foam and then swirled my tongue around his finger a few
times. He took it away and pressed his finger to his lips. And I looked
into his warm black eyes.

He raised his glass again. "And to more," he said, looking first at his
finger and then at my lap.

I felt my face flush with a hot red glow. Pablo took a drink and then
laughed. I picked up my own beer and took a swallow and started coughing.
When I recovered I looked at Pablo. He wore an expression of such concern
that I reached over and grasped his arm with my hand. "I'm all right," I said.

He smiled and looked at me for a while. Then he asked softly, "Have you
ever kissed a boy?"

I felt my face flush again. I looked into his warm black eyes and said,
"Not yet."

Pablo reached for my hand and pulled it below the table top and held it. We
sat like that, eating and drinking and watching the show. I told him where
I lived and what I was studying in high school. He said he had to leave
school after the eighth grade.

When we finished our first glass of beer Pablo stood up at the table.
"Stand up, Alan," he said.

I stood up. My head felt like it was full of helium, but my feet seemed to
be steady. I watched Pablo remove his shirt. My eyes roamed over his bare
brown shoulders and chest.

"Take off your shirt, Alan," he said.

My mind was in a state of confusion. "What?" I asked.

"Take off your shirt," he repeated. "We are going to dance."

In a daze, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and dropped it onto my chair.
Pablo pulled my hand and together, bare to the waist, we walked through the
tables toward the stage. As we climbed the steps to the front of the
church, I saw that another troupe of boys was dancing now, each one wearing
white trousers and a red kerchief around his neck.

Pablo pulled me onto the stage beside the dancers. Though their skins were
darker than mine, I figured I had enough of a tan that with my brown hair I
might pass for a local boy. Pablo moved me into the second row and said,
"Follow my steps. Do what I do."

He turned and began to dance beside the others. I found the step easy to
imitate. I held my arms above my head and moved my body like the dancers,
even managing a turn around. I saw Pablo look at me. He was laughing, and I
was laughing.

When the music ended, we bowed to the audience with the other performers.
They went off the stage to the left, and Pablo and I climbed down to the right.

Pablo led me back to the table through the crowd. Mexican men were clapping
me on the back. Children were pointing and laughing. We found our table and
fell into our chairs. Pablo filled our glasses from the pitcher of beer.

"That was fun!" I exclaimed to Pablo.

"Of course it was," he said, grinning at me. "A fiesta is supposed to be fun."

We raised our glasses and clinked them together.

"To more!" we chorused. We had to set down our glasses because we were
laughing too hard.

We sat close together, our bare shoulders touching, our fingers
intertwined. The food was good and the beer was good. We talked about our
families. I told him I was an only child. His parents were gone, and his
brother and two sisters stayed with his mother's sister. He didn't mention
where he stayed, or what he did.

The food settled my stomach, but when we had finished the beer I felt giddy
and lightheaded. I told Pablo it was time for me to go back to my hotel. We
put on our shirts and left the table, and Pablo held my arm when we
ascended the steps to the street.

We walked along the still crowded sidewalk. I was unsteady, and Pablo
guided me when I veered off course. We walked past where I had met him. The
next block was darker, and the nearest people were half a block ahead.
Pablo pulled me into a doorway and wrapped his arms around me. I held him
tight and looked at him.

Our faces were very close, and moving closer. Our lips met and we nibbled
at each other. Then we pressed together and our mouths were open and our
tongues were chasing each other and I had never felt so wonderful in all my
life. It seemed like we kissed for hours, but I guess it was only for a
couple of minutes.

We pulled apart and Pablo took my hand. We walked along the dark street
toward my hotel, just holding hands and saying nothing.

Suddenly a strong arm wrapped around my chest. I looked around in panic and
saw that same hawk nosed face I'd feared earlier. Then a cloth smothered my
nose, filling it with a strange unfamiliar odor. My knees went limp, and my
mind went blank.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was naked, lying on my back on a bed,
looking up at a single bare light bulb in the ceiling. I tried to move and
found my arms and legs were tied to the corners of the bed. Muffled voices
could be heard beyond a closed door, along with an occasional laugh.

I heard a noise and looked at the window. It was being pushed up, and then
a white trousered leg was flung over the sill. A brown arm reached in and I
saw Pablo's face. He put his finger by his lips to shush me and pulled
himself into the room. "Be very quiet," he whispered.

He took a metal object from his pocket and snapped open a four inch blade.
I watched him cut the ropes from my ankles, and then he scrambled up with a
knee on each side of my chest to cut my hand free. He bent his head and
pecked me on the lips and crawled off the bed. I swung myself around and
stood up while he cut loose my other hand.

"There are my clothes," I whispered, pointing to a pile in a corner of the
room. Pablo grabbed the pile and tossed me my briefs.

"These now," he hissed. "The rest later. Come on."

He threw my clothes out the window and lowered himself through the opening.
I got my Jockeys on and followed him out. Pablo shoved my shirt and jeans
at me and picked up my shoes. We ran along the hard packed dirt of what
appeared to be a narrow alley between the backs of buildings.

When we reached a brightly lit street Pablo pulled me out onto the
sidewalk. People were looking at me. Pablo said, "You want people watching
you. The more the better. Give me your shirt and put your pants on."

Pablo helped me balance while I danced into the legs of my jeans and pulled
them up. He handed me my T-shirt and I found the front and tugged it over
my head.

"Sit on that step," he said, and handed me my shoes.

"There's only one sock," I said, showing it to him.

He snatched it and tossed it into the gutter. "Put the shoes on your bare
feet," he said. "Hurry!"

We walked quickly along the street, away from that awful room. Trying to
stay with the lights and the people, we went up hills and down hills and
around until I was completely lost. And then we were in front of my hotel.

When we had caught our breath, I grabbed Pablo and held him tight. "Thank
you, Pablo," I said. "You saved me."

"I had to save you, Alan," he said. "I should have been more careful and
got you home safely."

"What happened?" I asked.

"He was going to sell you," said Pablo. "You don't want to know what they
were going to do to you."

"What about you?" I asked. "Will you be OK?"

"Sure," Pablo said with a wry smile. "Without me he'd go hungry."

"Come to my room with me now, Pablo," I begged.

"Your hotel doesn't let boys like me go in there," he said. "You better go
inside now and get some sleep."

"Pablo!" I cried. Tears started running down my cheeks. "We're leaving in
the morning. I'll never see you again."

He tried to wipe away my tears with his fingers but they kept coming.
"Don't cry, amor mio," he said. "What time are you leaving?"

"After breakfast," I sniffled. "Around nine, I guess."

"Look for me in the lobby," he said. "I'll be here."

"Promise?" I said, trying to hold back my tears.

"Yes," he said. "I promise. Go inside now and get some sleep."

We hugged each other again. People were looking at us, but it didn't
matter. I kissed him, smearing my lips over his. Then I pulled away and sighed.

"Buenos noches, Pablo," I said.

"Buenos noches, amor mio," he said. Then he turned and walked toward the
center of town. "Hasta la vista, Alan," he called over his shoulder.

I watched him until he reached the corner and turned onto another street.
Then I went inside and asked for my key and went to my room. I threw off
all my clothes and crawled between the sheets of my bed and hugged the
pillow tightly, feeling all alone like never before.

Then I felt the presence of Pablo, felt his warm hands caressing my
shoulders. I started to lick the pillow, tasting the saltiness of his
smooth brown skin. My hard dick humped against the sheet, sliding along the
firm flesh of Pablo's belly. I moaned his name over and over into the soft
pillow until my hot seed burst from my throbbing cock and flooded the sheet
beneath me. And then I fell asleep, dreaming that we were in each other's arms.

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to be continued