Chapter 18: Crossing my heart.
Monday February 12, 2019. Day #29. Acapulco, Mexico, continued.
The nice woman from the front desk woke me up and told me I check-in early. It took about five minutes of standing and watching her type on her keyboard. I handed her my passport and credit card and she handed them back with my room door card, seventh floor overlooking the marina and pool.
When I first walked in room 7-02 I set my suitcase on the folding stand and fell face forward onto the bed and hugged the stack of pillows and rolled over and thanked God for a real bed! Silky soft sheets and air conditioning felt so nice after a month of hot and humid weather at sea. I laughed out loud and ran my hands across the pillows then got up and went to the bathroom, lifted the seat, pushed down the handle, and watched the water swirl!
Next, I used the phone to call room service and ordered a twelve pack of cold Miller Lite, two double-burgers, one order of onion rings, and a tall glass of Coke with lots of ice and an extra can of Coke. She said it would be about forty five minutes, delivered to 7-02.
While my food was cooking I checked the view from the window, but I couldn't see my sailboat because of palm trees near the pool. I stripped off my clothes and took a shower with one of those tiny bars of hotel soap, and dropped the wrapper on the shower floor! AHHHH! This felt so nice I didn't want it to end. I bet I stood in the hot water for ten minutes and wished I could hire someone to wash my entire body with their tongue. Not sure why but I felt horny and wanted to jerk off but my food was due soon.
After the shower I turned on my cell phone, it actually worked and wasn't in roaming mode so I called a couple people I knew in Florida and talked with them for half an hour. I had nineteen texts, all of them were spam. My car warranty was still expiring and did I review the papers they sent me about selling my house? Never reply to those, most of them are just trying to see if a stupid person has your number so they can text even more. They will NEVER stop, and death is the only way to opt-out. Of course the best way to stop it is to put it into airplane mode and turn it off.
Just for fun on my tiny cell screen I did a Google search for Carly Cordova but saw nothing obvious except that a woman with the same name had an account on Twitter (which was probably her). I was flat on my back on the bed staring at the ceiling and suddenly became aware that the bed was perfectly still. My bed bounced and rocked but this one was dead still. Suddenly, I didn't like this room as much.
Minutes later there was a knock on the door, room service delivered my order on a cart with three covered plates and a twelve pack under a white linen cover on the lower shelf.
When I lifted one plate cover I saw a large double burger that could barely sit upright on its own. On a smaller plate were neatly stacked lettuce leaves, raw onion and tomato slices, and a small mountain of sliced pickles. The third plate cradled the second double patty burger, identical to the first. I stuffed some pickles in my mouth as I wheeled the cart to the foot of the bed. The second burger plate and the beer went in the refrigerator, then I sat down to eat. The entire room smelled like a Burger King parking lot.
With the top bun set aside I carefully added lettuce, a tomato slice, and one thick raw onion slice, then replaced the bun and carefully lifted it up. My mouth wanted to bite into it so badly my face hurt.
It was juicy and runny and tasted like love. I hated to admit it but a really good burger like that could easily convince me to stay at this hotel again if I ever came back here. They sent two packets of Cholula hot sauce which I dribbled on after it was half eaten. After the last bite I drank the rest of the icy cold Coke and chased that with two cold Coors beers. When those were done I let rip a belch I'm sure was heard down the hallway.
My next task was to plug-in the laptop and access their wifi to download my email and see if the world was still fucked up. I also searched again for Carly Cordova and probably found her listed on a Seattle area high school web page and I got a glimpse of her twitter page with reports of their adventures around the world, but twitter cut me off again since I'm not a member (and I never will be). Somewhere around 9am I fell asleep.
About 4pm I changed into my swim suit, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and walked to the pool. Down in the lobby I stopped at the front desk and asked her to give my thanks to the kitchen for what might have been the best burger I'd ever eaten. She said they heard lots of compliments about their burgers. With a smile on my face I walked down the long tree lined sidewalk to the pool. To enter the pool or walk out on the pier you had to talk to security and have them let you through the gate. Their security display was ridiculous because the entire facility was wide open to the bay.
I claimed a plastic recliner with my towel, shirt, and sunglasses then swam laps. I had to avoid swimming into a few other people in the shallow end. I noticed there were a few boy-boy couples sun bathing too, which made me feel more at ease. I slightly waved to them but they pretended they didn't see me. After I waved to the two guys with sunglasses and matching solid blue swimsuits, one turned to the other and said something but never acknowledged my greeting.
It made me wonder if they noticed my non-Euro/designer swim suit (from Target) and thought I must be too poor for them to talk to, so they ignored me. Snooty fucking fags probably here on one of the monster yachts anchored far out on the bay, with their big radar antennas slowly turning around, like Oh look at me, I'm too fucking rich to shut off the radar when there's nobody on board.' Maybe both of them were Russian rentboys and they couldn't talk to me because they didn't speak English or Spanish. Maybe they only knew how to moan and beg for more in English, Oh please Komrade, give me more.'
I swam more laps in the (80 ft long) pool and caught glimpses of people leaving the pool area, chairs got moved around as the sunbathers left and the night crowd moved-in. From the pool deck you couldn't see the sunset except when it lit the clouds. The pool wasn't as nice looking as the one at the yacht club in Saint Pete but it was close. Saint Pete had clearly posted clothing optional rules.
The harder I swam the better I felt, I haven't been able to do my daily run in the past four weeks and I bet I put on five pounds since I left Florida. I ate way too much in each port (except Puerto Angel), and ate too little out at sea. I focused on my laps and stopped every once in a while to make sure my towel and sun glasses hadn't disappeared. The snooty fags were gone now and it looked more like American tourists on the pool deck now. I could usually identify European tourists at a glance by the way they dressed, this crowd was mostly from the United Snakes and Canadia. European swim suits and shorts were cut different (especially eastern euro) from the ones sold in North America, you didn't need to see the label, just look at the cut, the shape. Sometimes on gay porn you could tell what country they were from by the pale white shadow on their skin left by weeks of lying in the sun in a swim suit made in Belarus.
I dropped below the water and kicked off the wall and did more laps and pulled hard with my arms, trying to go further on a single breath. I did them the fastest I could then needed to rest my shoulders so I got out of the pool to drink some cold water. Walking across the deck I tightened my stomach muscles because there were a lot more guys around now, and you never knew who you might meet in an expensive place like this.
I walked to my lounger leaving a trail of wet footprints and grabbed my towel to dry my face and upper body, hoping I looked nice for a 32 year old. Sometimes I got some curious eyeballs checking me out, but they're usually staring at my chest because my nipples were easily four times wider than most men, sometimes people did a double take with their eyes. They tended to upset women more than men, usually the `Karens' of the world hated my tits, once in a while I got comments from a Karen that I shouldn't walk around without a shirt on.
A large group of seven young adults walked in the pool area, males and females in skimpy two piece suits. They were talking loudly in (what sounded like) German.
As I slowly looked around I counted about twenty people (seven were younger females in bikinis) but nobody was in the pool. It made me wonder if they were having a party here tonight. I looked across the bay as the street lights started to blink-on. Acapulco was truly a beautiful place, especially after the sun went down.
With a flip I spread the towel out on the lounger and set my sunglasses in the middle so I didn't sit on `em when I came back. The water fountain was over by the pump house so I walked back across the deck holding in my stomach and tried to walk all macho-like. I'm sure this pool deck was frequented by gays. I should have teased my dick so I was semi hard before I got out of the water.
I stood by the fountain with my toes on the pedal as a stream of ice cold water bubbled up. I must have swallowed an entire quart of water, it felt so nice going down. When I straightened up and looked around I saw several men standing along the sidewalk, they looked like taxi drivers trying to snag a fare, I never made eye contact but they were talking amongst themselves and ogling the bikini clad women around the pool.
There was too much noise to understand what they were saying but it sounded like one of the guys in their group was being teased, I heard two people shout the word: Maricon (fag in Spanish). I glanced over at the western sky and noticed the nice purple and orange color as the sunset displayed its final moments.
Turning around I walked back to the lounger and picked up my stuff and sat down. Outside the fence I heard a commotion, the taxi drivers were yelling about something and someone whistled like Mexicans did at boxing matches. In the distance I heard the roar of a jet airplane taking off, and seagulls called from the sky. The commotion outside the fence got louder, I knew in Mexico when they whistled loudly it meant something like booing in the USA, but something was going on by the walkway but I didn't care. One of them whistled part of a song from my favorite Three Stooges episode (Punch Drunks, 1934).
I raised the back of my lounger and looked around the deck, that's when I noticed their lighthouse actually had a working beacon, I thought it was just a decoration. In the distance I heard loud music echoing off nearby hotel towers. Acapulco was a lively place tonight.
Two young ladies stood up and wrestled by the deep end and pulled each other in the pool as everyone watched hoping a bikini top would fly off. That display got everyone laughing. Then three more people got up and jumped in after them.
I heard whistling outside the fence, like they were booing the girls for not swimming naked. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to enjoy the perfect weather, in my mind I recalled mental images of the signs to see if nudity was not allowed.
The gate to enter the pool deck was beside the marina pier security guard shack. If you turned right you were on the pier, if you went to the left it was a long palm tree lined concrete sidewalk (without lighting) that went to the hotel entrance. To the right of the sidewalk was Honda Beach and on the left side was a bare sandy area that looked like it was becoming a construction site for a new hotel. There were a few taxis parked on the sand and guys camped out by their cars trying to win fares from the marina crowd. Faintly in the distance I heard the taxi men whistling again and one of them did a few notes from the Three Stooges episode.
The pool crowd was getting more and more rowdy, they looked to be my age: late twenties -- early thirties, most of them were in great shape and I heard some accents and guessed they were all from the same place, maybe Germany or Austria.
In my mind I pictured the wonderful double-burger in the refrigerator in my room so I decided to go nuke it and maybe check out the local cable TV channels, and maybe after that I could come too, I sort of felt the need.
I got up, grabbed my stuff, slipped my shirt on, and paused to look out towards my boat. It was dark over Acapulco Bay now, there was one red mast light on right where Susan was tied-up, I bet it was mine. I laughed and headed for the gate. Rounding the guard shack I looked ahead down the long dark sidewalk that ran straight to the hotel lobby. Near the lobby entrance the sidewalk forked so you could go in the other doors by the elevator, which was my plan.
It's a little unusual for any business to have a long dark sidewalk across their property, maybe the lights were broken for some reason. Maybe the Ghost of Susan got here before me and fucked up their lights too, turned mine on and theirs off!
Halfway to the hotel I heard someone moving around by the taxis that softly whistled a few notes of Pop Goes the Weasel. I looked over my shoulder and glimpsed a silhouette step between the bushes and onto the sidewalk, he stood there like a ghost. My heart raced and I was ready to race into the hotel lobby door.
A faint voice spoke, it sounded like he said my name but I wasn't sure so I stopped and turned halfway around.
"Que quieres?" I asked with a stern voice (What do you want?).
The figure stepped towards me, I clenched my fists getting ready to fight or run inside.
"Eres tu?" The voice softly asked (is it you?).
"Who are you?" I said a bit louder with an angry tone. The person in the shadows stepped closer again but it was too dark to see his face. He slowly walked towards me but the distant lights were behind him. I slid my hand down my pocket but my zombie knife wasn't there. "I don't have any money if that's what you want." I told him.
"Esto es un milagro!" He said (This is a miracle!) softly and moved closer again. I moved back every time he moved closer. The voice sounded familiar but also not, a slight Mexican accent.
"Who are you?" I asked again. He said, "It's me, Carlos Silva."
He leaned towards me but I could barely see anything. He did kinda look like Carlo, the nose and eyes were right but the shape of the cheeks were different and my brain still told me to be on-guard for attack from behind so I looked all around then took another step towards the hotel.
He said, "Come`ere," and he gestured for me to follow him between the bushes and onto the grass like we were walking to Honda Beach and then in the slivers of light I barely saw his face a little, he resembled Carlo but looked weird like the un-dead.
"I thought you were in Cozumel fixing boat motors?" I asked sounding very robotic.
He stepped closer and quietly said, "Two days after you left Uncle Miguel died in his sleep. I grabbed the rest of the cash at home and rode busses all the way here to catch up with you."
I grabbed his upper arm and turned him a little to improve the lighting and sure enough, it was Carlo but his cheeks and eyes were sunken and he looked like one of the background zombies from Dawn of the Dead.
I put my hand over my mouth as my eyes filled with tears. My head bobbed up and down as we stood in the shadows on the grass between the walkway and the beach. He patted me on the back while I cried. I reached behind and batted his hand away from me.
Before I could calm down enough to tell him to fuck-off and leave me alone he said, "Let's go talk in your room." He immediately slipped between the bushes back onto the sidewalk then gestured for me to follow him again.
The side lobby door was near the elevator but there was nobody else around. He gently held my upper arm and guided me into the sidewalk and in the lobby door since I had my hands over my face. He pressed the button and a few seconds later the door opened.
"What floor?" He asked, I pulled one hand from my face and flashed him five then two fingers, he poked the topmost button.
Inside the elevator and both of us leaned against the walls. It was very uncomfortable being that close to him and when the elevator door closed I noticed how badly he stunk and his clothes were filthy.
"I never expected to see you again." I mumbled wishing I had my zombie knife, but it was in my cabin.
"It's a long story, I'll tell you everything."
"I'm not sure if I want to hear your shit."
"You've got to let me testify." He insisted using my language, which was smart. He'd obviously given a lot of thought to what he was going to say, he correctly anticipated my hostility.
The elevator door opened and we walked down to the end, room 7-02, I pulled out the key card and handed it to him, he unlocked the door. Walking down the hallway in my damp swim suit and a T-shirt I trembled in the air conditioning, I'm sure that made me look like an emotional wreck.
We went inside, he locked the door. I fell onto the bed with my face in the pillows, I didn't want him to see me cry. He sat on the bed near me and patted my back while I tried to un-fuck up my emotions. My brain ran in circles like a dog chasing its tail. I even knocked his arm away from me again.
Part of me was pissed-off while another was relieved he was still alive. I wanted to punch him in the face for what he did to me, at the same time I wanted to hold him tightly and never let go. My thoughts went in opposite directions, all in conflict with each other. A war suddenly erupted and all of it was inside my head.
I saw mental images of getting off the bed and screaming at him to `get out of my room and don't come back' which was followed by images of rubbing the mushroom head of his dick across my lips while he made salty goo for me.
Carlo got up and turned off the lights around the room and while I softly cried for about fifteen seconds, then willed myself to stop and rolled on my side to dry my face. He heard me cry out in anguish. Carlo came back and got on his knees beside the bed and rested his chin and both arms on the mattress then slid his hand over and held mine but that time I let him touch me. We stared into each other's eyes with our hands together between us. It was nice to feel his warmth again (his fingernails were filthy). Very softly he spoke and tried to not cry too.
"Uncle was teachin' me how to rebuild carburetors on his kitchen table. I got up early on day two and his place stunk like roadkill, when I checked on him he was cold and lifeless, I think he died right after he went to bed. I freaked out and was afraid they'd lock me up and call my mom, demand all her money to get me back alive so I grabbed the money I had left and his cash at home and left with my suitcase and jogged two miles to the ferry pier. I rode to the mainland and I used all the money to buy bus tickets across Yucatan and southern Mexico to Acapulco to get here before you. That was 950 miles, fifteen days in stinky old buses, sleeping at night on the floor of bus terminals with the rats."
"Why didn't you fly back home?"
"I got nuthin' there." He looked in my eyes then mumbled, "...you're not there."
"Why Acapulco?" I asked while I wiped my face.
"You said you were gonna stop here, and I got somethin' I need to tell you, get it off my chest." I saw his eyes slowly fill with tears.
"Yeah, well I got something to tell you too." I said probably sounding upset. Carlo said: "You first."
"I left Cozumel hurt bad, I cried a lot on the way to Honduras, I haven't cried like that since I was a kid. That day I actually felt how much I loved you and how good you'd been to me. I also wanted to say that I'm sorry for having autism. You were the best friend I've had since college and I'm sorry if I never said it." My eyes leaked tears that dripped down my cheeks and made me feel very uncomfortable, but we stayed there maybe two feet between our faces looking each other in the eye.
Before I could finish he started talking, "I was muy estupido too." Carlo interrupted. "A few hours after you left I realized how much I fucked up. But I needed time with my uncle, I thought he'd be like a normal version of my Dad, and he was. They grew up together, being with Miguel was like being with the father I never had and when I saw him cold and dead in his little bed I knew lost everything. That's when I realized how stupid I was because with you I could have flown there anytime and visited him or flown him to visit us."
I started to speak but he put his hand over my mouth, he wasn't done talking.
Carlo held my hand again, looked me in the eye and continued, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I love you. You're the best thing that happened to me since I was a kid. I'm sorry that whole thing at Cozumel happened and you had to sail here alone. I called your satellite phone four times but it said you were not in service, I wanted to beg you to come back before you got too far." He took in a deep breath and continued.
"Since Uncle died my entire life was focused on finding you. You were all I thought about every minute of every day. All I could think about was apologizing and spending the rest of my life with you." He paused for a moment as we stared in each other's eyes and both of us struggled not to cry. Then with a small grin he told me he loved me more than air.
I raised my head off the pillow and looked at him with a funny smile on my face, then said, "More than air?" He smiled back at me, "Well, maybe not, but damn close!"
In our past when either of us made a bullshit statement like that it became a challenge to out-bullshit each other with even greater nonsense, I love you more than water', Oh yeah? I love you more than gravity.' But we resisted the temptation, I knew I could bring it up again.
I took in a deep breath as I rolled onto my back then softly told him, "Since I left Cozumel you were on my mind every minute of every day, but you really hurt me. Even so, I would have turned around if I'd known." My last comment made my chin start to quiver and the tears returned and I involuntarily wept. He slid up on the mattress and snuggled against me while we both cried.
"You sound like you're pretty mad at me." He whispered.
"I am."
"You wanna hit me?" He whispered again.
"Uhhhh no, I'm not good at it."
We were quiet for a while then he said, "You could rape me if you wanted, I deserve to be punished."
"Carlo if you invite someone to rape you then by definition it isn't rape." He was quiet for bit then he said, "Mock rape, but you could focus your anger into it and be as rough as you wanted so it hurt. That might extinguish your anger."
He slid his left hand across my chest and rested his mouth against my upper arm, we were silent for a while like we were testing if we could be together again without conflict.
We held each other (without speaking) for almost twenty minutes then I heard his stomach growl.
"When was the last time you ate?" I whispered and wiped my eyes again with my eyes aimed at the ceiling.
With the sound of great sadness in his voice he said, "What day is it?"
"Monday February 12th."
"Six days ago."
"Why so long?"
"No money, then some asshole swiped my suitcase so all I got is my clothes." He rolled over on his back beside me but I could smell his body odor since he was against me.
"You're telling the truth, you got nuthin?"
He just nodded yes. His comments put my brain into emergency mode, I got off the bed, turned on a light, and got the burger out of the refrigerator and took it apart and nuked the patties for 45 seconds.
I got him seated at the desk and slid the burger over, with lettuce, tomato, onion, then I opened a beer for him. Carlo ate it like someone that hadn't eaten in a week, I sat on the bed and watched him quickly devour the burger. After that he raised the beer and drank the rest of it and let out a very loud belch. After the belch he put his hand over his mouth, turned to look at me with a grin on his face and apologized.
After he was done eating I grabbed his arm and led him to the bathroom and told him to get in the shower with his clothes on while I took off mine. The stench of his body was almost enough to make me gag.
I got him into the shower and rotated him around to wet his clothes. Then with soapy hands I hand washed his arm pits and around his crotch then rinsed off the soap and took his clothes off, rolled them into ropes and twisted water out of them and hung them on the shower curtain rod.
After that I hand scrubbed every inch of his body, he never got hard. I saw the tiny red marks on his body from insect bites from sleeping in old bus terminals across Mexico. I closely checked him for lice but didn't see any.
Then using my toothbrush I cleaned his teeth and shaved his face. With the little electric trimmer in my bathroom case I cut off all his pubes, and did his arm pits too. I buzzed him hairless from his neck to his thighs, front and back. I even stuck my index finger all the way inside his belly button but felt crud inside it. After he was done I stood him in the back of the tub and cleaned myself. After the shower I dried us off and pulled him back to the room and sat him on the bed.
I asked if he felt better and he nodded yes, so I got him another beer, opened it and handed it to him. Carlo guzzled it too and said he felt drunk already, then he belched again.
"It's too late to buy you clothes tonight, we can do it tomorrow morning. How you feelin'?" I asked because he looked bad, pale with sunken eyes and cheeks. Carlo said he felt better but he was very tired. I hung his wet clothes on hangars on the shower curtain rod before we got into bed and spooned all night, him in front. I gently felt his nipples but they were firmer than normal, then we fell asleep with my nose pressed into the hair on the back of his head.
Every time he started to whisper something I shushed him and told him to go to sleep, we'll talk tomorrow after breakfast.
Tuesday February 13, 2019. Day #30. Acapulco, Mexico
I got up early and woke him to find out what he wanted for breakfast then he fell back asleep.
Thirty minutes later a knock at the door signaled the arrival of our food. I sat at the desk and ate and over on the bed I saw Carlo slowly drag himself up to a seated position. He sat at the table near the window and ate. I carried over the pot and poured him a cup of hot coffee then another for myself.
He used the remote to turn on the TV even though he was too far to the side to see it, he flipped through the channels then I reached over and shut it off. He shook his head side to side and mumbled, `fucking autism' and went back to his eggs on toast, I smiled that he actually understood. After chow was done we put the plates on the cart, covered it and rolled it out into the hallway. Then we went in the bathroom to brush our teeth (using my brush) and spent a little time in our underwear together like we used to enjoy doing in my little apartment. If we were back in Saint Pete we'd walk two blocks to Waffle House. We got back into bed and snuggled for a while and whispered to each other while we waited for stores to open. I thought about his offer but decided to mock rape him when he was feeling better.
He was on his back, still naked. I was on my side next to him with my hand on his chest gently playing with his nipples for almost two hours.
Around 9am I got dressed into nice shorts and a Hawaii print shirt, then handed him my other street clothes and we went downstairs and got a taxi. We rode to a store nearby that sold men's beach clothing and I bought him two changes of clothes, underwear, sunglasses, and sandals ($390). After that we went to another store and got him bathroom stuff. On the way back to the hotel I told him I couldn't buy him a cell here it would be a Mexican plan and every call in the US would be expensive. After we got back we took all his clothes to the hotel laundry room and I went to the main desk and pre-ordered room service for lunch: fourteen hard shell tacos with all the toppings and a twelve pack of Coors Lite and some bottles of water.
While the laundry ran he told me the story about the bus ride across Mexico and how all he could think about was getting to Acapulco before me. But this time he said if he missed me he'd be stranded and had no idea where to go or what to do and had no money anyway. He said he made up his mind to kill himself if he got here after I left, then he cried again so I held his hand. I felt some very strong sadness vibes coming from him. Ninety minutes later his clothes were done and we went back to the room.
In the elevator he stared at the floor and looked very depressed and sickly, he mumbled, "This is literally a miracle, I prayed to Jesus every day to guide me to you and it happened!"
At 11:45am came the knock on our door. I let room service in and fumbled for my wallet. Our room was filled with the scent of tacos, he sat at the table by the windows and chowed down like a starving man just released from a concentration camp. I ate three and watched him eat like a dog.
During lunch Carlo told me he lived on sheets of newspaper on the ground by the taxis along the hotel sidewalk for the past two days because he knew sooner or later I'd show-up, so he checked out everyone that walked by, day and night. Sometimes the taxi drivers would chase him off, call him a fag, but he always came back, he lay on some old newspapers and watched everyone that went down that sidewalk. Hearing his story and his suffering made my anger begin to fade, I felt he was telling the truth and was sorry for ending our relationship like he did.
Watching him chew his food I noticed it looked like he lost 15 pounds recently, but it was nice to see some hints of a smile on his face when he wasn't crying or eating like a dog.
Eventually he ate slower so I packed up the remaining (5) tacos and the beers and put them in the refrigerator. I turned off the lights and took his hand and pulled him back to bed. I took off my clothes, then his, and we spooned just like the old times. There was some light coming in around the curtains. He told me he kept having dreams of us on Susan crossing the Gulf of Mexico at night, he'd go into the cabin after sunset and turn the NAV lights on then check to make sure they worked.
I reached my arm over his body and gently strummed his nipples and whispered into the back of his head, "Carlo, you know my plans: sail to California and move into the apartment and work at a law office near UCLA. I need you to answer one question in plain English, exactly what are your plans for the next two months."
He sighed deeply but understood I needed a complete confession from him, with zero bullshit, and zero lawyer-speak.
"What I want is what you offered in Saint Pete, I'd like to go with you to Del Rey, and live with you in your apartment. You told me three times I don't need a job, you'll pay me an allowance and my expenses, I'll be your partner and employee, I get paid in un-taxed cash once a month. Am I missing anything?" He asked and rolled over onto his back to look me in the eye with a serious look on his eyebrows.
"No, that's mostly it."
Then we both moved around, I was on my back and he was on his side facing me with his lips gently kissing my upper arm and whispered to me, "Will you forgive me and take me back?"
I was silent for a few moments and considered this might be a moment to lighten the mood so I remained silent.
He stayed like that with his lips touching my shoulder then asked, "Well?"
"Well what?" I asked.
"You lyin' dog, you heard me!" He said and reached over and stretched my left tit up. I reached for his wrist because he pulled hard.
Then I whispered back, "Well............ you dummy of course I'll take you back!" Carlo smacked my stomach and I tightly grabbed his hand because it stung.
It took a few moments to get settled because we both changed positions. He scooted down the bed and I moved up until my head hit the headboard. He rested his head on my stomach and rubbed the head of my dick side to side across his lips and took me in his mouth and held it there for a while. His mouth felt soft and inviting. Slowly, I got erect and started oozing for him. He whispered it tasted better than movie theater popcorn.
I looked at the alarm clock on the stand beside the bed, it said 4:46pm, we'd spent all afternoon in bed talking. I asked if he needed anything and he pulled it out of his mouth and said no. I was emotionally drained and fell asleep with my head on the pillows and his head on my tummy, like we used to do back in Florida. My brain started to feel like I could start to trust him again. My anger was less but not totally gone and he seemed to be improving but he still looked sick, it actually worried me that he might have caught something viral on Cozumel. I wondered if they had any tropical diseases on that island, I had no idea.
Contact the author: borischenaz gmail
You have reached page 348 in the paperback version.