As I said, I arrived in Buenos Aires in 1999. After I settled and acclimatized myself in my work, I also began to look around. Unlike San Francisco, New York, and also Paris, there in B.A. it seemed to be more prudent not to tell everyone that I'm gay - the prejudice still seemed pretty strong.
However, soon enough I found the places where I could find a guy to take to bed with me for a few hours, in exchange for just a few pesos. The government had imposed parity with the U.S. dollar, but people were very poor, and sometimes with just a few pesos I could choose my boy to take with me to bed. The most that I had to pay were twenty pesos... and the boy was worth them all, he really knew his trade.
Buenos Aires, at least at the center, is an elegant city, with an almost Parisian look. Far from the center, however, there are also areas of extreme poverty. Many of the guys who offered themselves for sex for money came from these areas, real favelas, but most of them never or almost never came back home but lived on the streets.
Even those who, like me, have an apartment where they live alone, rarely lead an occasional partner, be he a hustler or not, to their home. They usually prefer to go with the occasional conquest (or purchase) in an "albergue transitorio " i.e. a love hotel.
There are plenty of them in the city center, as the Monteflor, the Desiree, the O'tello, the Siglo XX, the Paso, the Discrete and others. The rooms are clean; almost always have a private bathroom, closed circuit TV with gay-porn films and other services. They only allow two visitors at a time. And it is here that most guys who beat the streets can take a bath or showers in order to remain sufficiently clean.
As I said, I too often took the boys that I found to one of these "albergue transitorio".
One evening I was walking along the Cerrito, that is the avenue adjacent to Avenida 9 de Julio, not far from Plaza de la Republica, when I noticed a guy sitting on the grass, under a street lamp against which he was leaning with his back. Unlike other guys who were hustling, he did not look with defiant and provocative glances to the passersby. He looked at the ground, with a grave, almost absent expression.
But what struck me was the way he was dressed... or rather not dressed.
He was barefoot, had a pair of blacks shorts, a very short waistcoat of black cloth open in front with nothing underneath, and a dog collar around his neck from which hung a leash from the back, passing over one shoulder and almost touching the ground in front of him.
The body, thoroughly exposed, was thin but not really skinny. He had the smooth skin of a teenager, slightly tanned. He had a bunch of dark hair, short, slightly disheveled but not really in a mess. I could barely see his face bowed - he seemed to have a nice profile, but I could not see his eyes. His hands were resting on the floor between his bent legs, knees raised almost to his chest...
I looked at him intrigued, wondering why he was dressed like that. Was he a kind of punk or what? He was a hustler or not? I slowed down continuing to look at him, even to study him, as I approached. The boy still did not watch any of the rare passers-by.
I do not often pass over there, and not at that time, and perhaps for that I had never seen, or noticed him before. I walked by him, less than a meter away, continuing to look at him, but the boy remained motionless, and he did not look at me. Shortly after I came back, still looking at that boy, more and more intrigued.
I stood before him. Finally, the boy lifted his face and looked at me.
He had big and sad eyes... like those of a good dog... The lips were sensual, with a gentle bend. He looked at me straight in the eyes, without moving or saying anything.
"Ola... que tal?" ["Hi... who are you?"] I greeted him with a slight smile.
"Diez pesos, y puede hacer todo lo que quiere con migo..." ["Ten pesos, and you can do with me whatever you want..."] the boy said in a low but clear voice.
"All I want?" I asked.
"Beat me, fuck me in the ass... I'm good at giving head... you can even piss on me..." he said seriously.
I was a little shocked: no hustler ever had accosted me in that way. Usually they either tried to be seductive or bold, sweet, almost feminine, or macho, showing a virility or a security that often was in reality just a pose...
I squatted in front of him. Our eyes had not yet left from looking at each other.
"What is your name, boy?"
"Fido..."
"Fido? Come on, boy..."
"And I'm not a boy, I'm a dog..."
"Well... an appropriate name for a dog... but you, what's your name?" I insisted.
"Fido! You want me or not? For ten pesos I do everything."
"How old are you, boy?" I asked him, insisting on the word "boy".
"Almost seventeen. You want me or not?" he asked again, with the air to tell me that either I accepted his offer, or left him alone.
"Yes..." I said uncertainly.
He was a handsome boy, but maybe I was more intrigued by the way he offered himself than by his beauty.
The boy then took the leash and handed me the noose. Instinctively, I took it in hand, still a little confused and surprised.
"Shall we? You have a place, haven't you?" the boy said.
I stood up and he too got up. He was almost as tall as me; the body was well done, attractive. His serious expression, his large eyes that went on looking at me in the eye without ever looking down and that leash he had put in my hand, made me slightly uncomfortable.
I handed him the leash back. He took it.
"You don't want me?" he asked almost annoyed... or rather disappointed.
"Yes, I do want you. Come on." I said and walked towards an albergue transitorio that was not too far away.
I didn't turn to see if he was following me, I was deep in thought. We came before the discreet entrance, and I now finally turned to look at him. He was there.
I went in, and paid the room; the clerk gave me the key after launching a casual look at the boy then he sank back into reading. We climbed to the first floor; I found the room, opened it and let him inside.
"Take a shower first." I said to the boy.
"Sì, señor." the boy said and disappeared into the bathroom.
I turned off the central light and lit a lamp at the wall that was above the headboard of the bed. I removed the blanket: the sheets, even if old and with some mending, were clean. There was the TV but I did not turn it up. There was also an inset radio on the headboard of the bed and I turned it - it transmitted music, and I put it at a low volume. I heard the water pelting in the bathroom.
I put a ten pesos bill on the table, in full view. Near them I put the box of condoms and lubricating gel that I almost always have with me, when I go out to cruise. I undressed, folded my clothes and put them on a chair, then, naked, lay on the bed, waiting. I was not excited, unlike other times...
After just a few minutes the boy emerged from the bathroom, vigorously rubbing his body with a small white towel. He was naked; thick black hairs surrounded his soft, uncut penis which was a good size. He was well developed, well built. The damp hair was now brushed forward, so that it formed a short irregular fringe on his forehead.
He put the towel on the back of the chair, approached the bed and looked quickly at my naked body, without changing expression. I noticed that he had again the collar with a leash around his neck.
"Take it off..." I said pointing to it.
He undid it and put it behind, on the towel. He moved in a flexuous way, almost feline. Then he looked at me again.
"What's your name?" I asked him again.
"Fido."
"Come on! That is the name of a dog, not of a boy...!
"Then Bobby, Fluffy, Black, as you want."
"Why?" I asked, holding out my hand in an invitation to come with me on the bed.
He did not take it, but got on all fours on the bed. Always looking at me.
"Because many people like the idea of having a dog for fun. There are so many boys around but dogs... just me, I think.... A dog or a slave... finds easily a master."
"Do you like the SM?" I asked him, drawing him to me.
He lay on his side, still with his knees bent. "Whatever pleases you, señor. Just... please... don't hurt me too much..."
"Hurt you? No, of course no, I do not like hurting people." I said, beginning to caress his beautiful body. "Neither a lot nor a little."
"What do you want me to do? What do you like?" he asked, for the first time without looking in my eyes.
"And you, what do you like to do?" I asked, pleased to see that he was getting aroused, and this finally started to arouse me.
"Who cares? Everything that appeals to you, señor."
I pulled him more strongly toward me, against me, until our bodies adhered. He had a fresh, velvety skin. He smelled of soap and youth. I took his face between my hands and kissed him deeply. He responded to my kiss, at first almost mechanically, but then with greater participation and increased arousal.
"I do not like to call you Fido... tell me your name." I told him.
"As you wish, it is you who pay." he said softly.
He would not tell me his name, so I accepted his suggestion.
"Pablo... Pablo suits you?" I asked him caressing his little ass, firm and smooth as a ripe peach.
"Sì, okay, sure. What do I have to do? How you want to come?"
Instead of answering I kissed and hugged him once again pulling him to me, making my now fully erect member palpitate against him. I felt his member throb in response.
I went down with my face to suck his little dark and firm nipples; the boy shuddered. Then I went down again, I dwelt on his sunken navel, where I played a little with my tongue, then went down more and placed my lips on his cock, now fully erect and hard.
"Do it to me too..." I suggested.
The boy turned and began to lick and suck my cock artfully. He was skilled and experienced and I had the impression he liked doing this. Shortly after we were united in a pleasant sixty-nine.
I made him stop because I felt too close to the point of no return. I held him once again against me, and while I kissed him and stroked his bottom, I pushed a finger to tease his anus. He pushed back his pelvis making me realize that my inquisitive finger not only was not bothering him but he liked, or at least accepted it without any problems. Besides, he surely must have been more than used to taking it behind, I told myself.
Honestly, when I went with an occasional conquest and even more with a guy who did tricks, I was thinking primarily, if not exclusively, to my delight. If the other one took his pleasure, to me it was all right, indeed, I was even happy, but this was certainly not among my main concerns. After all, especially when I was paying, what the other wanted in return was more likely my money.
Yet with "Pablo", and I cannot say why, I continued, if not to worry, at least to wonder if he liked what we were doing together.
After a while I was holding him against me and I pushed my finger in his hole, and that "Pablo" trembled with growing strength, the boy pulled away from me and asked: "How do you want to take me? In what position you want me? "
Instead of answering, I did lay him on his back, climbed over him and made him open out his legs, kneeling between his thighs. He quickly pulled his legs against his chest. I bent over him, and after I sucked his nice hard and upright member, slightly angled toward his belly, I went down to lick under his member, between the testicles and anus, reaching with my tongue his hole and prepared him for a while.
Then I took the condom off the nightstand, I wore it, tore a sachet of lubricant spreading it on his hole and prepared it very carefully. Then I aimed my cock into the hole and started pushing.
"Pablo" closed his eyes, kept his legs against his chest and lay motionless, waiting. I slipped in without trouble, penetrated him with a single thrust, until my crotch was firmly pressed against his small, firm buttocks. I paused for a moment, and then began to pump in him. The boy artfully palpitated his sphincter with art, around my pole, which was sheathed in the condom.
I caressed his breasts and thighs. "Pablo" in turn began to rub my nipples and caress my belly, hips and thighs, while I was moving vigorously inside him.
His face was beautiful, but the expression was always serious and I could not read anything into his eyes that he still kept closed. He liked it? He did not like? Was he indifferent? He hoped that it would end soon or last long? Or also that neither I nor our action was of interest to him?
I cannot say he was completely passive, in fact both with his hands, and by making his hole palpitate, he participated in some way to the sexual act. But he certainly showed neither enthusiasm nor forbearance... This left me somewhat perplexed. With other guys, especially those who came with me for money, I could always tell if they hoped to finish quickly, or if, although not many, they were enjoying what we were doing.
I told myself that maybe, despite being so young, that this was just work for him... and that he was a "serious professional". Serious and skilled, though. Yes, he must have had several customers, before me... This did not bother me nor give me pleasure, but... I was curious.
Several of the boys who hustled, swore not to be gay. Some of them, when I asked their story, told me of situations of extreme poverty, of ill-treatment... although I often wondered if they were not stories, at least in part, fictional. So I stopped, despite my curiosity, asking questions at least to the hustlers.
Yet I felt I would have liked to know who this "Pablo" was, why he claimed to be only a slave, or rather a "dog". I felt that, in addition to purely sexual relationship, I would have liked, at least in part, also have a relationship... human.
I've never seen one of my partners, who were paid or not, as a sexual object. For this I had always had the curiosity to know about their name, history, and perhaps even dreams, hopes...
I continued to take "Pablo", but trying to give him also a part of the enjoyment I was receiving. From time to time, stopping to pound into him, I bent over him and kissed him in the mouth. The boy knew how to kiss well, belying the first impression that he did it mechanically, without any real participation.
And I continued to question myself about him: Did he live in a house or in the street? Had he a family or was he left to himself? Had he friends, relatives, someone or was he a loner?
But he came with me just for money. So I had understood and learned by now that I had no right to ask a hustler these questions. It was not appropriate and made no sense to want to know something about him. Besides, he had not even wanted to tell me his real name, or maybe a name invented, except that "Fido"... or "Pablo" with which I had decided to call him.
The excitement, however, was growing in me, and I decided not to control myself any more, to let myself go up to the final pleasure. But also to take him to pleasure with me. As I continued to move inside him, I massaged his beautiful turgid genitals not only to keep alive his excitement, but also to make him come.
When I felt that he was nearing the final explosion, I speeded my pace, and as soon as he came against my hand, and between our bodies, I finally unloaded inside him.
Staying inside him, I stretched my legs and relaxed on top of the boy, continuing to caress him. My cock slowly slipped out from his hot channel, returning to its resting size. I took off the condom and threw it in the wastepaper basket next to the bed. I took the boy once again in my arms.
"Everything all right, Pablo?" I asked.
He opened his eyes, looked at me with his serious expression, and asked: "And you, señor?" almost as if to tell me that it did not matter if it had been good for him or not.
"Yes." I replied.
"So... can we go before they make you pay double fees?" asked the boy.
"You are in a hurry?" I asked curiously.
"No. Not me..."
"Maybe, if you go there... you can find another customer, since it's not too late..." I ventured, hoping to make him talk.
"Pablo" had gone off the bed and was cleaning himself with the towel. He turned and looked at me and said, "Maybe."
Then went to the bathroom. I heard the rushing of the water again. I got up and I also went to the bathroom to clean me up. The boy was dressed again. As I dried myself and went back into the bedroom, I saw him pocketing the money I had put on the night table for him. Then he turned, took the leash, put on his collar while I was dressing again.
"Can I go?" He asked me before I finished putting my clothes back.
"Yes. Will I find you still there? Where you were tonight?" I asked him then.
"Yes, more or less. If I'm not with another customer." he said.
"Then maybe we can meet again..."
"Maybe. Good night, señor."
"Good night, Pablo. And thank you."
He glanced at me with an expression of slight surprise, and then left the room. I finished dressing and went down almost immediately. Once on the street, I saw no trace of the boy. For a moment I felt tempted to go where I found him, to see if he returned there. But then I changed my mind and decided to go back to my house.
When I got home I checked whether I had received e-mails and found one of my brother Giovanni. He told me that he had just graduated from the academy of fine arts with good grades, and Dad, as a reward, offered him a flight to Buenos Aires to see me, if it was okay with me, and stop for three weeks at my place.
I replied that I would be more than happy to welcome him to my house and see him. As I have said, among my brothers and sisters, Giovanni has always been my favorite, so I was really happy. Having my brother in the house would cause me to have less sex encounters, even though I usually went in love hotels, but I did not mind that at all.
So Giovanni came. I went to pick him at the airport on Saturday morning with my car. Arrived at the Ezeiza International Airport, which is about thirty kilometers south of Buenos Aires, I had to wait for about three quarters of an hour, because his flight was delayed.
When he finally emerged from the customs, he saw me and immediately broke into a broad smile. It was only a year since I saw him, yet he had changed a lot, had become a very handsome man. He looked younger than his thirty-eight years.
We hugged and then I took part of his luggage and drove him to the parking lot. Up in the car, I drove back home. First of all he gave me news about our parents, about Beatrice who, as I already knew, was waiting for her third child, and about Silvana who instead still did not want to have children.
Giovanni had married when he had just graduated from art school, and had divorced only two years later. Luckily they had not had children... Then he worked briefly as an assistant stage designer, and then he stopped working to enroll at the Academy of Fine Arts, strangely with the approval of Dad...
I wondered why he seemed so different from the last time we had met - a man over thirty years of age does not change so much... Yet he seemed different, younger, more beautiful, I would say.
"And you, what about you?" I asked then.
"About me? I already have a contract as an assistant stage designer with the Arena of Verona."
"Very good, I guess."
"Yes, I did not think I could succeed, and on the contrary... It seems that finally things are starting to turn the right way..."
"I see you are in good shape... in fact it seems as if you are ten years younger..." I threw there.
"I changed my look... and I decided to go to the gym, that's all."
"And... maybe also on the affective level..." I asked looking at him, thinking that I had never seen him so radiant.
"Well, yes, even on that level there is something new."
"I was sure it was so! How is the girl? Pretty? You have a picture? How did you meet?"
"Curious as always, eh?" he said with that mischievous smile that he had as a boy and that for some years I had not seen again on his face.
"Yes, of course." I said laughing. "So?"
"We are very well together... But... but It is not right to say that she is pretty..."
"Beauty is not everything, provided you have met the right person for you." I told him.
"I think so. We are together for eleven months."
"You did not tell me anything. Where did you meet?"
"First I wanted to be sure that things were going well between us." replied Giovanni.
"So now you feel confident enough to..." I said.
"Yes, even though Dad is not very happy."
"Has it ever happened that Dad is happy with what we children do?" I said.
"Mom instead has... accepted, so to speak."
"You think to get married?"
"No. But we live together, for four months."
"That's why Dad is not happy?"
"Also..."
We arrived at my house. I helped him to settle down in his room, and then I asked him if he wanted to take a shower.
"Yes, but later. I'm a little hungry, rather." he said.
I began to prepare something to eat and he came in the kitchen with me.
"So, you got a photo? Would you let me see your girlfriend?" I asked.
Giovanni nodded and handed me a picture: he was there with two other boys and three girls. It was shot near the sea, they were all in bathing suits, and all huddled and half-embraced to fit into the frame of the picture.
"I shot this five months ago, just before we took a house together..." said Giovanni.
I looked at the three girls in the photo: they were all three fairly well made, attractive, and smiling. One had copper-red hair and a bikini that the barely contained her bosom. Another was blonde but was probably oxygenated, and had long hair that reached her small but beautiful breasts; she was slim and had a vaguely sensual pose. The third one had finely curled brown hair, and a sly smile; she was the lower of three, and had a petite but proportionate body.
Giovanni was at the center of the photo; the curly girl was on his left and one of the two boys on his right. Pointing to one after another, from left to right Giovanni said: "This is Manuela, then there is Silvano, I, Carla, Matteo and Rachele is the last."
"Your girlfriend is Carla?" I asked him then.
"No, wrong."
"Then the first on the left, the blonde?"
"No, wrong again." Giovanni told me giggling.
"Ah, the last on the right, so." I concluded by looking at the shapely red-haired girl.
"No, no, she is not really my type..." Giovanni chuckled once again.
"Well... maybe then it's the one that took the picture, right?" I asked him, laughing and looking at him quizzically.
Giovanni shook his head, then put a finger on the boy at his right: "It is he, Silvano..."
I looked at him, frowning slightly, "I do not take the piss, Gio! Come on, which is your girlfriend?"
"You put in your head that it had to be a girl, I've never said so. I'm Gay, Daniel. And Silvano's my boy."
"Are you serious?" I asked looking at the boy that he was pointing out.
"Deadly serious."
"You... you are gay? I would have never thought... and then, you were even married..."
"A error of youth. Because I always knew it, even as a kid. One tries to change, hopes to change... but then I gave up... I've messed up? You do not like having as a brother a fag? "
I looked at him, then slowly said: "Giovanni your sexuality is just your problem, I simply did not expect..." I decided to have some fun with him... "I understand that Daddy reacted badly..."
"And you?"
"If you're happy..." I said trying to stay serious.
I looked at Silvano - he was a really handsome boy, he must have been ten years younger than my brother; you could see he did fitness - all his muscles, without being swollen, were very well defined. He had more a swimmer's body, than that of a hefty athlete and... and his swimsuit was nicely full at the right spot...
"Manuela is Silvano's sister. Carla is the girl of Matteo, and Rachele is the Carla's stepsister and is Manuela's girlfriend..."
"A large family, I see..." I said, amused at hearing about those relationships, and connections.
"You have not yet said what do you think..." said Giovanni.
I put my hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes and said, still trying to stay serious: "You'd have to tell me when you were a kid... when you began to understand it. You know I have always loved you, is it not so? Maybe... maybe I could have given you a hand, an advice... "
"I was ashamed... I felt too... too different..." said Giovanni, looking seriously into my eyes.
"And you were wrong, totally wrong. Because, you see, you and I are not different at all."
"I know you love me... that you loved me, but..."
"Not only that. I have no photo to show you. I do not have a nice guy like your Silvano... but I am exactly like you, a fag from head to toe, Giovanni!"
He looked at me completely surprised, then laughed and hugged me: "This is why you never married! It isn't because they sent you to work here and there. Poor Dad..." he said.
"Poor Dad, why?"
"Just think, only two sons and both fags."