I had only lived in Mexico City for a few weeks when I found a nice gay bar in the Zona Rosa area of the city. It was 1980 and though Mexico was not as liberal as the US at the time, there was still a real sense of freedom in the capital.
During the day, I dressed in a business casual style, but for tonight I had on my leather motorcycle jacket and wore some big shiny boots. The club was pretty much what you'd expect in a major metropolitan area. Lots of men and some women, most dressed in "disco chic" and sparkling in the moving lights of the club. The dance floor was packed.
I opted for the bar, and ordered a Tequila con Sangrita, a traditional way to enjoy a good tequila. As I sipped my Herradura Anjeo and the accompanying shot of sangrita, I noticed a cute guy watching me. I nodded to him and he took that as permission to approach.
He politely stepped closer and with his hands behind his back he spoke. "Me gusta tu chaqueta de cuero, senior."
He liked my leather jacket and before the conversation got too deep I made sure he knew I was a gringo, "lo siento mucho pero mi español es muy malo."
"Sir, that is no problem," he replied almost snapping to attention. "I am comfortable speaking English as well."
"Muchisimus gracias," I sighed with relief.
"Your Spanish is not that bad and your pronunciation is very good," he said.
"That's part of the problem," I replied,"I sound like I know more than I do and if I don't let people know up front I get lost very quickly."
"Oh Sir," he said with a glimmer in his eyes,"I doubt if you could ever get lost with me, Sir."
I smiled and took another sip of tequila. His emphasis on the word "Sir" made it clear he understood the meaning of the metal ring hanging from my left shoulder and the keys dangling from the left side of my belt.
"I think you are probably correct," I said. I pulled out a cigar and in seconds he offered me a cigar clipper. I handed him the cigar and he unwrapped it and clipped the end. He smelled it before returning it to me.
"This is a very nice cigar, Sir."
It was. A Romeo y Julietta from Havana.
"Go on, boy," I said making a big assumption that proved right.
He took the cigar and lovingly licked the wrapper from one end to the other, moistening it before returning it to me. I placed the damp cigar between my lips and drew air through it, awaiting a light.
There was a snap as he popped open a gold lighter and held it for me to light my cigar. As I puffed it, his eyes glazed a bit as he took in some of the smoke second-hand.
"I really like your leather jacket, Sir"
I could tell as he looked at me like a puppy, eager for approval. I figured there weren't too many leathermen in Mexico City at the time and he had gotten lucky tonight.
"So, boy," I said as I blew out a cloud of fragrant smoke, "what are you looking for tonight?"
"If I may be so forward," he murmured, "Someone exactly like you, Sir."
That got a smile from me.
His name was Emiliano, and he was a teacher of Cultural Studies at the university. He had an apartment nearby and after one more tequila, we walked there in the warm Mexican night.
Inside, he dropped his proper behavior and went into what I would call, "full boy mode". He dropped to his knees and looked up at me with his big brown eyes. "Sir, this boy wishes to serve you tonight in any way Sir wishes."
"You can start by getting naked."
That was all it took and his clothing disappeared in what seemed to be a flash. Soon he was back on his knees in front of me his hands clasped behind his back.
"Good boy!" He beamed at the words. Now I think I have too many clothes on as well.
With the skill of a seasoned valet, Emiliano removed my boots, placing them reverently aside, only after kissing each one. My jacket came next. He handled it with care and reverence, hanging it on a peg on the wall.
"Here in Mexico we don't get too many leathermen," he said. Then he returned to me and began removing my shirt. When he exposed my chest with my pierced nipples he let out a gasp.
"Dino's mio!" He couldn't resist caressing the silver barbells that pierced my nipples.
"Where did you get those, Sir?"
"San Francisco at the Gauntlet."
He moved to open my belt and slowly ease my jeans down my torso. When he found I wasn't wearing any underwear he again gave an appreciative moan. As he lowered my jeans, my cock finally sprang free, fully erect and dripping.
"Senior," Emiliano said, slipping back into Spanish. "Tu pene es hermoso!"
"Gracias muchacho," I replied.
He finished removing my pants and set them across a chair, then returned to his place before me on his knees.
