Date: Wed, 20 Nov 2019 13:20:51 -0500
From: MC VT
Subject: Mi Papi Gay Adult-Youth

Mi Papi
©MCVT2017 November 20, 2019

Families and their traditions; baggage and hassles until you need them.

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100% Fiction, adult content, Mb, Mt, inc.
=========================================================================

"Still queer?"  Uncle Gil asked, like he did every year since I was
fourteen.

"Yep, still queer."

"How's that working out for ya?"

"Same as last year, still working out."  The less information I gave him,
the fewer questions he asked.

"Dad still mooching?"

"Dad's still with me -- he's not mooching.  Be here later with the
capriotada -- had to get some sherry to douse it."

Always the same at the holidays.  Far-flung relatives came from all over to
enjoy a few weeks of warmth in Rio Valley with me and my sis.  My sis
always had the big dinner at her house -- it used to be our family home;
now her family's home.  Aunts and uncles spilled out the garage and all
over the back yard, music blaring and several coolers of beer.

Always asked the same questions, same topics came up annually.  Had to
check to see if my birthmark had faded and my sister's childhood case of
ringworm hadn't returned during the past fifteen years.

…

Dad finally showed up right before the dinner began, perfect timing to
avoid the third-degree about his prostate.  He learned early that if he
began singing after they had several beers, they'd start singing along with
him -- that diverted their curiosity in an attempt to show off for
everyone.  "Una Paloma Blanca…" into the nights after dinner;
"Ojos Verdes" and country music songs till midnight.  "Eres Tu" by a chorus
of drunk mid-westerners at one in the morning is depressing.

The herd of relatives stayed with sis but for the several who brought
trailers.  They camped out in our back yard during their visits.  That gave
Dad and me some peace during their vacation, but not much.  To be honest,
Dad and I were reclusive.  Being older, he had his complaints. Me being
younger, queer and in a small border town, I had mine as well.  In some
ways, we were alike.

Dad retired with his allotment and pension.  I worked in the county barn
maintaining busses.  Dad held that same job for years.  Because we lived so
far out, I took online courses; maintaining busses was not something I
wanted to do all my life.  Dad helped, kicking in for my classes and left
me alone to work on the weekends.  He knew I wanted to move, sow a few wild
oats and find a lover, but he was selfish.  He wanted me to stay with him;
he cooked and cleaned like the wife I never wanted.

…

It started in full-force when I began listing my profile on dating sites.
He watched over my shoulder, kibitzing: "Never trust a man with a beard --
slackers… Some of those boys are too pretty to stay around long.
Heartbreaker."  Seemed he would find something wrong with every man I found
interesting.

Taking my options out of the virtual realm, I decided to take the two-hour
trip to San Angeles for the weekend, check out a new gay bar, "Zippers." It
just opened several months ago.  Music, dancing and a drag show, I'd toss a
few back and check out the other clientele.  Thought it would be fun till
Dad started his, "poor little me" act saying I was leaving him and he would
die of loneliness before the house burned down around him after a brutal
home-invasion.  I just rolled my eyes.  Then he started practicing the cult
of misery around the house; sighs, moans, eye-wiping, sorrowful stares.

"Two days, Dad?  You'll still be kickin' when I get back.  How about
calling Anita from the drug store?  She's always flirting and asking about
you.  Get a little nookie while I'm gone."

"She's read my medical records."  He harrumphed.

"So?  You're in great shape, viejo."

"I need to make sure you get home -- you're gonna be drinking.  Probably
try some quack."

Had to think about that, "You mean crack?  I don't think so, Dad."

Friday afternoon, his suitcase was beside mine in the back of the pickup
truck.  Would I ever be rid of this Latino thing about staying in a
familial herd?

…

We had to stay at the El Quinto Inn.  Dad wouldn't believe it wasn't a
Latino business, but he approved the room before he opened his bag and took
out his six pack of Jarritos and tucked his tortillas and cheese in the
frig.  "Now, where to?"

"There's a buffet at the Angeles Eagle, thought I might mosey over there
for dinner."  Dad had on his favorite blue guayabera, the one with the
enchilada sauce spots on the front with a bolo tie sporting a chip of
turquoise.  "Did you bring another shirt?"

"What's wrong with this?  I look great."

Got to the buffet and Dad had to charm the chef asking for
jalapeños, and asking him about his enchiladas which weren't on the
buffet.  Dad sat close; the place was packed with the most handsome men I'd
seen in a long time.  Lots of Spanish being spoken in the conversations.  I
surveyed the room to see who might need a hit from me.

Cruising along the bar, I threw a few winks and looks, hoping to stir some
interest.  As I passed one exceptionally fine-looking specimen of a man,
"Tag team tonight?"  Didn't understand till I stopped and Dad bumped into
me from the rear, grinning.

I had to give Dad some rules, this was my future he was fucking with.
"Let's go back to the hotel."

"Nope.  Gotta go talk to the manager, there's a hole in their bathroom wall
between two of the stalls.  Figure I could repair it for a few bucks.
We'll go to the hardware store tomorrow…" Dad wanted to cover up
the glory hole?  Oh shit!  I took his arm and escorted him to the bathroom,
took him into the smelly stall, unzipped and stuck my dick through the
hole, "Watch.  This hole is supposed to be here."  The lower half of a face
appeared in the hole and I stuck my half-hard dick into the lips.  Dad was
amazed.

He watched for a few minutes, then pulled out his cock and stuck it
alongside mine in the man's mouth.  Tight fit.  Then, he shoving me aside
and gripped onto the duct-taped hole, pushing his dick hard as far as he
could into the man's throat.  "Mámas!"  He wasn't shy, but trembling
with excitement.

I squeezed around him and left; waited outside in a huff.  When he came out
grinning and shaking the man's hand, he introduced us, "This is my son
Manny.  He's looking for a date."  The guy couldn't leave fast enough.  I
couldn't either.

…

Back in our hotel room, "Dad, let me find my own guy.  Relationships got to
have some magic and you're destroying it for me. Tomorrow night you're
going to a movie while I prowl, okay?"

"Our relationship has magic."  He undressed, "It does for me."

"Dad, I'm looking for a date first, then a life partner.  Remember, you had
Mom."

"Rest her soul, and now I got you."  He slipped off his boots.  "Are you
upset I pushed you away from that hole?  Damn that was good.  Maybe we
could cut a circle in this menu and I'll put it in front of your cock."

Dumb idea.  "Go to bed."

I watched the weather forecast for a while.  Dad was singing in the shower,
proud of himself and feeling good, dammit.  He came to my bed and got in
beside me.  "I love the smell of your sweat."  He started sniffing and
kissing my neck.  Before I could stop him, he had his face in my pit,
breathing deeply.  "What a man I have for a son."

Those kinds of remarks usually proceeded his hard dick looking for hot
son-pussy.  "Dad, you're tired."

"That hole in the wall only got me started."

…

Dad and I are both puro Salvadoranos -- when we weren't erect, our junk was
a dusty greyish color, in full bloom, both of us had the glans that got
really red peeking out of our foreskins.  Looked like candy.  He called me
his favorite chupa-pop -- that's a kind of a lollipop he used to give me
when I was young.  Taught me how to sit still for a fingering and a blow
job while I enjoyed the dulce.  Guess what I got when he brought a bar of
Carlos V chocolate.  He had me trained well.

"Abrazeme.  Quieres follar?"  He was nuzzling me, and in a fine mood, horny
and humping up against me.  He smeared his pre on my thigh.  "I'm the only
Dad you have."  He always got his way.  Turning the light out, he squished
me against the mattress as his shaft rubbed against mine.  Felt good,
masculine and hard.  Couldn't refuse Dad -- he was no romantic but a hell
of a fuck-bud.

He shoved my knees open, "Why do I always have to be the bottom?"  I asked.

"Because you love it.  Remember last time you tried being on top?"

"If you hadn't changed the words to that corrido about Zapata…"
My lips were silenced by him kissing me.  The rough stubble of his upper
lip was familiar; his tongue, aggressive.

"C'mon, put your feet on my chest and squeeze my nipples with your toes."
He was grinning now, seeing my erection waving over my groin.

"Don't suck my toes this time."  I warned him as his left hand stroked my
cock, and his right hand painted my ass with pre.  Shoved once and got his
head inside me, then grabbed my ankles, holding them together over my head
-- he liked to watch himself penetrate me this way.  It always made him hum
and grunt till he had me well-speared.

"Pausadamente, Papi.  Despacio."  I whispered between gritted teeth, he
always wanted to plunge too deeply the first few thrusts; Dad's rod almost
a weapon.  Hand still holding my ankles past my head, and the other hand on
the headboard, he began.  Peeking between my thighs I saw his smooth,
hairless body undulating as he watched and started hitting my on-button
with every stroke.  I could have stayed right there for the rest of my
life, but Dad was excited and folded me further in half, plowing harder.

Faster, he was using the mattress bounce to push me back against him with
every shove.  He was deep; felt like he was going to rip me, then: "Dios
mio."  His body shook, a few more quick shoves and the heat of his cum
exploded from the end of his dick deep inside me.  I loved that feeling.
Suddenly, my feet fell, thighs opened as his sweaty torso fell on me.
Breathing fast, then he stopped, laying very still.  I shoved him to the
side and grabbed my dick, reached between my legs for a smear of his cum
and jerked fast, not long, shot a load all over his chest, lay back and
grinned, then went to kiss and thank him.

"Dad?"  He didn't answer me.  Did he just die or what?  Shit, this was
going to be hard to explain, but I saw a shallow pulse over the vein in his
neck.  With his cum dripping out of my ass, I grabbed my phone and dialed
9-1-1.  "El Quinto, room 112.  Around back."  Damn dispatcher kept me
talking about what happened while I tried to dress. Damn, he shot a big
load -- I tried to cover the puddle in the middle of the bed and wipe Dad's
chest.  "Yeah, yeah.  I think he was jerking off.  Hurry up, this is my
only Dad."

I was in my boxers and messed the sheets on the other bed like I'd been
there.  I grabbed my jeans, pulling them on as I saw the red lights
flashing through the curtains and a radio blaring scrambled words.  Grabbed
Dad's phone and shoved it in his toiletry bag along with his wallet and
flung the door open.  "Aqui!  He's in here!"

The EMTs swarmed the room, the biggest among them gave Dad a quick
assessment and started CPR.  He spoke to Dad in English and then Spanish
asking what happened.  Dad didn't answer.

"He had two beers and a big dinner earlier…" I offered a quick,
clean description of our evening.  "I think he was jerking off.  He just
went quiet all of a sudden."  Still smelled like man-man sex in the room, I
turned the fan on.

"Su papi?"  The EMT asked, then stood close, "Por la noche?"  The big guy
asked, punching in the data on a small screen.  He glanced up and winked,
thinking I was Dad's twink for the evening.

"He's my real dad."  I blushed and grinned when I saw the EMT examining
Dad's dick, then he leaned over and sniffed it and gave me a catty smile as
Dad was strapped on the gurney. We got all the insurance info done and
jumped in the ambulance.  They put an oxygen mask on Dad and shoved an IV
in his arm.  I was shaking as I sat watching his ashen face.  "Is his heart
beating?"

"Yeah, he looks like he'll be alright.  Got his meds?"  I showed them the
pill bottles in Dad's toiletry bag.  "Was he snorting or using anything
else tonight?"

"Five or six jalapeños."  I looked him square in the eye when I said
that.  Damn, that EMT was good-looking.

They got my dad into the ER and onto a narrow bed.  His eyes fluttered
open, I leaned and kissed him.  "That was a hell of a cum, thanks m'hijo."
He whispered, smiling weakly.

"I told them you were jerking off…" I whispered and stood aside
as a doctor and nurse came in.  They did all the exams and hooked Dad to a
machine.  They were going to review his meds and preliminary results.  I
called work when I found out Dad would have to stay several days.  They
transferred Dad to a private room and gave him a pill to sleep.

I went out to the ER again to thank that EMT.  They were straightening
their ambulance as I walked up to the back door, "Thanks.  My dad's gonna
be okay."  Surprisingly, they dropped me off at the motel and I spent a
night alone, in a dark room but planning on going out on Saturday night to
Zippers.  Maybe I'd just meet someone while Dad was recuperating.

…

Got cleaned up and went to the store to buy Dad socks and a bouquet of
flowers Saturday morning.  He was dozing peacefully hooked up to the
machines.  "Dad, I love you."  I whispered and kissed his cheek.  His eyes
opened as he smiled.

"I love you, m'hijo."  We watched the tele till the nurse came in with
Dad's orders.  Seemed we had to limit salt, fat, make a few changes.
Different meds to keep Dad's blood pressure down and his arteries open.
Dad was an industrious man, keeping the yard, garden and the house, but he
needed to stay out of the heat, drink more water… Nothing we
didn't expect.  "What about sex?"  Dad asked as he perused a brochure on
high-fiber foods.

My face must have turned twenty shades of red as she told him that it was
okay, if he kept it off the trapeze.  I guessed that was a joke, but she
winked at him before she left.  Dad, I'll tell you, was a good-looking guy.
Square face, coppery-colored skin, thick salt and pepper hair and a trim
build, nice smile and genial nature.  He looked pale and weak in the bed
with all the little pads glued on him.  I didn't realize what that meant at
the time.

Brought salad for dinner and told Dad I was going out to the bar.  "And
leave me here alone?"

"That's the idea, Dad.  I'm looking for a husband, a man like you.  We'll
get along, it'll work out."

Displeased with me, he ordered me out and I couldn't leave, not with him
upset with me so I wound up staying late watching Mexican variety shows
until I saw he was snoozing.  Stopped by Zippers, but didn't go in.  There
was a catering truck out front selling tamales de elote and pupusas.  Ate
them alone in the hotel room with a Jarrito and tortillas worrying about
Dad.

Tuesday morning Dad was released, I took him home and he didn't want to go
to bed.  I made him sit down in the kitchen and make a list of the food he
would and could eat as I spread out all the brochures in front of him. We
made a list and went to the store, stopping at the pharmacy.  Anita smiled
and winked at my dad, put a free pill organizer in his bag.  He wouldn't
look at her.

…

Think life got bad?  It got better.  I finished my management courses
through the next few months while dad got a visiting nurse -- Nicaraguan
lady who spoke Spanish like an angel and was very kind to both of us.  She
was great teaching us tricks with the diet and Dad's schedule.  That was an
unexpected surprise to get her.

Dad noticed the nurse's son had to sit in her car while she took all his
vitals and checked on his meds.  "Bring the boy in here.  It takes you
almost an hour, sometimes longer."

That's how we got Leo.  He was almost ten when he came, and kept Dad great
company during the times he wasn't in school; we became his informal
childcare.  Leo and Dad set up hay bales and shot arrows, threw darts, and
kept the garden while Leo's mom worked across the wide plains around our
town.  Sometimes Leo stayed with us overnight when his mom could get people
scheduled late and so she could shorten her work week.

Dad loved Leo, and I knew how much when I found chupa-pop wrappers in the
back bedroom and on the patio.  Leo loved my dad, had to be at his side and
do the same things and learning his English.  Had to have matching shirts
and hats when they went to the county fair, Saturday matinees.  Every
night, Dad would tell me what they did as we climbed into bed.  Yeah, he
even called me Leo as I sucked him, then leaned over the side of the bed
for his cock.

Our Leo wasn't Salvadoran, he was from the Mosquito Coast along the
Caribbean in Nicaragua.  Light-skinned with indigenous and African features
and tightly curled hair the color of gold on the tips.  He was a striking
child, slender and short.  At twelve, he was about as tall as an
ten-year-old.  Dad said he was developing, but probably wouldn't be as tall
as the other boys.

I took his word for it, searching the hook-up sites for anything male and
reasonable looking in our small town.  Finally had someone distracting Dad
from his possessiveness about me.

…

I remember it was a Saturday in June, I had to go into work to relieve
another manager who was on vacation.  Got two text messages in a row,
saying the same thing.  "Miel today."  Didn't think anything about it,
figuring Leo and Dad went out to our local beekeeper to check the hives and
got a jar.

Got home late, Dad was in bed resting, "Did you bring a jar of honey?"  I
asked as I undressed.

He grinned and grabbed his junk.  Oh, that kind of honey, Leo was finally
shooting something out is small dick.

"Did you do it?"

"He loved it.  God, it was great."

"Is he gay?"

"Who cares?  He loves me more than you do."

I lay beside him.  That was the phrase he used to manipulate me into giving
him head, the horny ol' toad.  In a way, I respected his stamina and his
passion to love a young boy who needed a friend.  They were an odd pair,
and very warm to each other.  Dad could love well, I knew that.

Taking Dad in my arms, "Tell me what happened."  He unbuttoned his shirt
and pulled my face to his chest, "Suck me."  I began sucking on his nipple
while he stroked my hair.  "It was hot today; we took a shower after we
picked vegetables.  Decided we needed a siesta together so we went to the
back bedroom and turned the fan on."

From there he described a lot of kissing and touching.  When Dad found
Leo's newly-produced moisture, he explained to Leo that his body was now
ready for more than a finger.  Didn't seem to take long for Dad to convince
him, I imagined there had been a lot of introductory classes with two and
three fingers, perhaps an inanimate object of the proper proportion.

"Got on his hands and knees and told me to hurry up. You never tell me to
hurry up."  He said and rubbed my ear.

"That's because you're the one in a hurry."  I reminded him, "What else
happened?"

"Gave him a good, slow dicking but stopped and told him to fuck my face.
Couldn't miss a drop of his boy-honey."  He sighed, "Sucked him till he
couldn't take it anymore."

"That's it?"  I continued sucking smelling the boy's scent on my father's
skin.

"We had to nap."  He said, turning to his side, "Follame.  I'm horny again
just thinking about it."

In the afternoon sun of our bedroom, Dad turned me away from him and pulled
my hips close.  That familiar shaft of his began probing my cleft.  I
lifted my leg and turned for an easy entry.  At this point, Dad's hands
were weaker and trembled.  He patiently aimed himself toward my pleasure
and pushed.  As always, it was good -- didn't need to remind him to slow
down, his body slowed into a rhythm that was comfortable for both of us.
Maybe that was why I gave up on looking for a lover -- Dad had always been
mine, and I'd always been his.  Just a man overflowing with love for me,
for a boy, for a lot of people.  He'd made a good family around him.

We fell asleep that afternoon, I got up to get dinner and went back to the
bed to find him still, not breathing.  Dead.  Before the chaos began, I
held him and kissed him, and got my phone out.  Called Leo and his mother,
"Can you come?  Now?"

Didn't have to explain, they came quickly and I let Leo watch as I kissed
Dad's cheek.  Leo was in tears, and kissed Dad's forehead.  Sad afternoon
as Leo's mom completed the paperwork and we began the process of separating
ourselves from a man who loved us so generously.

Gathered my courage and called all the relatives.  It was a nightmare with
family everywhere for the next week, and Latinos are like that.  They
gather round in tough times as well as good times.  They left after helping
with all kinds of details and my house became empty and silent -- no music,
no voices.  Leo started high school leaving me with only the other managers
I worked with, my sister and her family across town.

Deleted all my accounts from the dating sites, and called quits about any
kind of relationship.

…

Holidays weren't the same, the family wasn't as strong without Papi's love.

Leo and his mother moved into San Angeles -- she could earn more and was
certainly worth it.

Hate to admit it, but I began drinking to fill my hollow life.  Why
couldn't I love the way he did?  Why did I allow myself to become so
dependent on him for affection?  Why did he make me so dependent on him?

At middle-age I was a lonely old drunk.  Queer and alone in a small town.
This wasn't the life I wanted.  My sister came one night, worried about me.
We talked for several hours.  She wanted me to go to rehab, or find
something other than work and beer.  "Dad would be so ashamed."  Good old
Latino guilt - she laid it on thick, but she was right.

That Latina gave me inertia to change.  Her three teen-aged daughters came
to help straightening up and cleaning out my house.  My sister took all of
Dad's things and had the kitchen remodeled for a new start.  We painted,
added some landscaping and got new furniture.  At her urging, I added a
bath and posted a room to rent.  Got several replies, not many.  One was a
man who was retiring from working for the city of San Angeles -- wanted to
live in the area before he bought.  We met at our local coffee shop.
Handsome man, broad-shouldered, wide smile.  I looked closely, he seemed
familiar.

"Used to work as an EMT till I got hit by a tree limb coming out of
Zippers." He sipped his coffee.  "Fiesta de huricán.  Did you say
know me?"

"I think I do."


Fin