All is work, until it's vacation time. Being a stablemaster is hard work. I keep my hooved friends happy, and they pay me too much to keep the stables and horses clean and groomed. But even gay cowboys need vacations.
Not long before the pandemic, a contractor friend, Don, invited me to go with him to the Mexican Riviera. He was going to get some dental work done. It's way cheaper there. He'd get the work done and wouldn't be watching the brown and burned guys go by.
But I could play, it was noted. I'd be his sort of occasional nursemaid if he needed it as he had the dental work done, someone in case of emergency. Oh-- and he'd buy the airfare and resort cost. Cheap package deal. Slam dunk. It was one of those all-inclusive resorts in Puerto Vallarta. The dentist was nearby.
Don had a lot of dental work scheduled; it cost almost a quarter of what they charge in Colorado. He'd be in the resort room most of the time. I'd bring him mushy food. He's a sexy guy, but would be unavailable. Maybe he'd wank off to the stories of my manhunts while I was there. If he was UP to it, maybe a BJ. It was incredibly cheap, off-season, an all-inclusive resort, beach-side, two pools, swim-up bars, and a shuttle that dropped off everyone conveniently near where the gay bars were. How could I go wrong?
Yeah, the first day we were there, the dental work put him down hard. I brought food. He was out of it. I wanted to help, but there wasn't much I could do and he knew it.
"Go! Go!" Don ordered, pointing at the door. He was going to be OK. The painkillers were great. He'd be all right. He lay there, naked, tempting, but I knew he was out of it. Ta-tah, friend.
I went downtown to the drinking district in a taxi. The gay bars are nearby. There were a lot of grey beard queers, and hunks of many kinds and colors. Some were hustlers, rent boys. I have no need for them. The first night out, I didn't really want to score anyway, tempted as I was.
The next morning was Don's round-two in the dentist's chair, and he left. I put on a speedo to go and tour the resort and the beaches. Maybe there were guys up early. If you're queer and looking, even if you're an somewhat older guy like me, it's OK to advertise. Some might take the bait. I was ready for anything.
The beach was strangely abandoned. The seaside vendors were also all but gone. Odd. It was sort of off-season.
The pool was great and the sun was blistering. More people than I'd have thought were out and about there. They could go to the beach, too, but the beach had its own hazards. The swim-up bar was fun. I drank their watered-down rum drinks.
Three American women, maybe in their late 40s or early 50s, got in the pool and almost immediately came up to the bar near me.
There was the fit older woman, whose Puerto Rican Spanish was different than the local dialect. I can speak the northern version of street Mexican; she was fumbling with some other version. She was frustrated at being dissed for her version. Her friend, a plump grey-haired woman seemed to be the quiet leader of the pack. Somehow, she had a farm-girl bod that seemed fit, too, and the plump was all in the right places. She's the only one with a tattoo that I could see.
Totally different was the blue-eyed blonde stunner. Had the bod of a twenty-year old, but she was probably rounding fifty something. Movie star looks, I thought. Turns out, I wasn't wrong. She has a bikini, big boobs, worked-out bod, the bikini fits her like a glove, and she seems to look around a lot. Hunter. A lot of guys were watching her. She seemed to be an expert at gently rebuffing their gazes. I thought to myself that maybe she was scaring away the studs I was looking for. I shrugged. It's early.
They all order white wine. At barely ten a.m. but they're having a hard time getting the message across on their orders.
I sat quietly and didn't clue them in that the bartenders all speak English, until I sensed their order needed translation, and I ordered up for them. They all turned to see who I was. The order is delivered quickly. They're apparently thirsty.
I turn on my barstool and they all turn to look at me. Checking out my pierced tits, they all collectively shudder.
"Didn't that hurt??" the leader asks. She takes a big swig of her wine.
"Best five-second non-penile orgasm of my life..." I reply. Two of them shudder; the blonde does not.
"Not that it's the kind of orgasm I want to do every day." They all laugh. The blonde smiles, dimples showing.
They're there with their husbands, who are on a deep sea fishing expedition all day. Numerous jokes are made about their potential prowess as fishermen. A second glass is rapidly poured for each. I'm pacing myself.
"So are you here with your wife?" the fit dark haired Puerto Rican asks.
"I'm here with a boyfriend." I reply. They nod, but there's a subtle disappointment, except for the blonde, who nods and smiles, sort of like, "I knew it. Gay."
"He's getting dental work done, so I'm more or less free to be a tourist." I don't add that I'm looking for a few willing guys to make my life happy. They might guess that...or not. The fact I'm not on the hunt for cooch may or may not be a disappointment to them. I don't really care. It's early.
They're about to do tourist stuff in the afternoon. I give them a few tips. I advise them to get sober before hitting the streets. Safer that way. The conversation turns to the blonde.
The leader, Marcia, asks her, "Are they going to recognize you?" Both women turn towards her.
"Maybe. It's flattering sometimes."
I interject. "So you're a movie star or something?"
The blonde smiles and turns away slightly. "Yes. 'B' movies. I'm a little famous here and there."
The dark-haired, fit woman with the different version of Spanish pipes up. "Oh, a little famous? People still go to those Con-things and ask for your autograph and buy your posters thirty years later!!" Vera adds she wishes she was *that* famous.
Marcia nods. I ask her, "People are going to recognize you here, in Puerto Vallarta? On the street?"
Vera looks over at me, gravely, "It happens. More than once! They know the movies, her parts, say her lines, ask her really wild questions!"
The blonde, Candy, nods her head and sips more wine. She's seemingly cool about it, but you can sort of tell her ego rides on that recognition. But she's nice, humble, sort of.
I gaze at her. At one time, she had to have been a super-babe. Impressive. I tell her, "Wow. That's pretty cool in some ways-- especially if you can monetize it."
Candy perks up. Yes, posters, appearances, a podcast, a blog, appearances with the other stars, she's milking it. I notice that her nipples are getting really hard and poke through her unlined top. The fame questions turn her on. She's trying to be cool about it, but she likes a pedestal.
Marcia and Vera suddenly have to pee. I secretly thank them that they're using los banos, and not the pool.
I spy a silver fox daddy and his twink companion. They see me. The silver fox sees me and smiles. Then he smiles at Candy, although she sits several stools away. Stud. I'm tracking him, and finally, he smiles and so does his younger companion. Nice.
Candy has been following this action, and she moves over to the stool next to me with her wine glass.
"Say, Joe, while my friends are away, I wanted to tell you my husband is bi. We ah, get off on a third if you're interested later. It has to be discrete...."
She's bending over, pushing out her cleavage as she tells me this. A nip pops out. She leaves it for a second, a big fat swollen nip, then slowly hides it.
Fuck. I'm torn. Decisions, decisions. That takes about a half-second. I'm about to tell her my room number. Then I remember my buddy, Don and inviting them over is a bad idea. So I ask for her room number. We make a time just as the other two enter the pool and swim over. It's getting hot.
Quickly, she adds: "Bart's going to be cooked when he gets back, is my guess. So it's either really late, or, better still, first thing in the morning." She's watching her friends near. "This is more for him than it is for me, but I really get off on watching guys having sex!!" Now she's blushing, too. The wine and discussion seem to have brought out something else in her. Hungry woman.
We rapidly exchange info. She'll text me. I wonder if I'll have my phone when she does. The day is young.
The ladies down their wine and drift off.
The stud and his muffin are Klaus and Matthew. They're next to each other under a cabana and we go to it from the swim-up bar. Germans. They leave tomorrow. Klaus is tanned, furry, nice bulge, huge feet, maybe sixty-five. Matthew is thirty-ish, sun-blond hair, slender, a swimmer's bod and beautiful butt. We decide to ramble to their room. It's almost lunchtime, but I have a hunger for something else. Matthew's butt.
When we enter their suite, it's rapidly apparent that I'm going to satisfy my hunger, because Matthew strips immediately and climbs onto their huge bed. There is lube on the nightstand. I may not be the first one in there, I'm thinking. The more, the merrier is my policy.
"Do me, daddy!" he orders in perfect English. Klaus smiles big and his thick cock is out but no, he doesn't get erect any longer. I want this part of the story to say I spend lots of quality time with that fine ass, but he knew his stuff. Less than twenty minutes later, he had me. That tail of his sucked the juices out of my balls almost expertly. Damn. It was a good ride. I was starved but not for butt any longer.
I washed and changed into actual clothes, and hit the buffet. Not so bad. Some of it might be warmed over dinner from last night. I've had worse; I've made worse. Starved, I had my fill of the good stuff.
Sitting alone was a tall older guy, ponytail, tan and fit. We seemed to be connecting, eyes on each other, across the room. He left. I groaned, got up and left, too.
