Disclaimer: The following is a story of a homosexual nature and is sexually explicit. Please do not read if you are a minor or if it is illegal where you live to do so. Remember to think smart to play smart. Use protection. Today's story features a young Hispanic man who is beginning his Junior year in college. His new roommate is also a Latino and is in the same year. However, they have little else in common. While he is introverted, his roommate is outgoing. Will they remain just roommates or can they become more? If this sounds like something you wish to read, be my guest and read. If it is not, go back and look for another story to read.
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Real Mexican Raymundo, Chapter 1
Look at me. What thoughts begin to form inside your head when you see my beige honey skin tone and my jet-black hair? Do these thoughts get stronger when you see my name or when I wear certain clothes? Are you the type of person who sees me and thinks that I don't know any English? Do you think I wasn't born here? Do other assumptions like these enter your mind?
My name is Rodrigo Javier Hurtado, but I prefer to be called Javier. Either works, but I will also respond to RJ. Although I am of Mexican descent, I was born right here in America. You would need to go back to my great great-grandparents' generation to find someone who was born in Mexico. Even then, only two of them immigrated to the States. I know English fluently, but what about Spanish? I took the subject in the first two years of high school and college, but the words had become buried inside my head. Julia, my mom, knows a minuscule more than I do. Ramon, my dad is fluent because he learned Spanish as a second language. He is a policeman and being bilingual has been an immense benefit. However, it is English only here at the Hurtado household.
I am an only child, but we have two cats. The first was Frida who has a black and white coat. She is primarily the family cat and has been with us for nine years. The second cat was named Shadow who was another family cat, but he was thought of as mine since his cat tower and pet bed were in my room. A feline juvenile, he had joined our family the previous year during the summer before my Senior year of high school.
What else is there to say about my appearance besides my complexion? My curly hair is styled into a bowl cut. The years might have passed for me, but the hairdo has remained the same. My parents have often asked if I have ever thought about changing it. Nope. Not yet. As far as I know, probably never. I'm six feet tall and have narrow shoulders with a toned build.
Sports? None that Dad thought of. Years upon years ago, Dad tried to get me into tee ball. It didn't work. I rejected every sport that Dad tried to get me into. There was contention in the air because he didn't want me to be idle. Contrary to what Dad might have thought, I did want to be athletic. I just didn't want to participate in any of the sports that Dad wanted me to be a part of. What did I want to get into? Track.
There were two physical traits long known about me. I was quick on my feet, and I had a very limber body. I enjoyed running and I had the right physique. Joining the track team seemed so right to me. Yet, it was not the type of activity that Dad had envisioned for me because he wanted me to participate in the type of sports that he would have when he was my age. Primarily, this meant baseball because he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He considered Track to be a soft option.
For all his misgivings, Dad could see that Track had captured my attention unlike any sport that he had proposed. I looked into his eyes, and I could see a war being waged inside his mind. Accept or reject? Accept or reject? At first, he supported my decision on the basis that at least Track wasn't a sedentary activity. Eventually, my parents' support became genuine. The hutch in the living room displaying my many track medals and photos in my track clothes was proof.
Friends? I found forming friendships outside of Track difficult because I was introverted outside my hobby. They numbered so few, that I could count them on my hands. Out of these, one was my neighbor who lived two houses down. His name was Tyson Pham and we had been besties since babyhood. We were born in the same year, just a few months apart. There were other similarities. Our parents moved into the neighborhood in the same year, we attended the same Catholic church, and the two of us attended the same private schools all the way through Saint Sebastian High.
I had long known that I was different, but I thought it because my body shape greatly differed from the other men in my family. This was true because I was lanky while the other men were broad-shouldered and muscular. They were shining examples of Mexican masculinity. Close with my toned body, but not quite the familiar Hurtado standard. Over the years, I learned that I was different in more personal and private ways.
"Daddy? Why does my penis look different from yours?" I had asked this many years ago when the two of us were alone. It had been a question that had been swirling inside my head for months ever since we had shared a shower, but I was shy about asking. His muscular body was impressive, and it served him well as a police officer. His chest was covered by a generous amount of hair and his manhood was substantial also. He had thought I was referring to its size because he was an adult. I was not. I knew that it was larger because he was older than me. He realized what I was talking about when I pointed at the tip, "I have skin here and you don't." With a hit of bitterness, "You have what's called foreskin. All guys are born with it. Removing it is called circumcision. Before you were born, I decided that we wouldn't do that to you because I didn't get a chance to keep mine."
Several years after that when I was a Freshman in high school, "Dad? Why am I bigger than other boys?" Dad didn't quite understand what I had meant until I pointed downward at my bulge. He asked with raised eyebrow, "Comparing yourself to other boys?" I nodded and he explained, "Some guys are just larger there than others. Just like there are tall men and short men." Then with a proud grin and a nod towards his own pronounced crotch, "That's that hallmark of being a Hurtado man." I blushed with embarrassment as I looked at it because I hadn't anticipated such a comment or gesture, but I couldn't deny what he said was true. I had been with him in the shower at the gym and I had seen my male cousins during sleepovers enough times to know that big cock and hefty balls ran in the family.
Then when I was a Senior, I had another deeply personal and private talk with Dad. I had been dreading this one because I didn't want to upset my parents. It was in that year that I had finally accepted that my earlier observations of other guys weren't just based on wanting to compare size. I checked them out and craved doing things with them, craving them doing things with me. The cravings sent tingles throughout my body.
Chief among men were those in uniform and chief among them were those in law enforcement. How I adored the bulges and buns they kept snug in those slacks of theirs. There was no way I could deny my fixation when Dad would bring a partner from the station over for dinner right after their shift. Oftentimes, the partner was a rookie. They were my favs because they were close enough to my age. Bonus points if the rookie had a friendly smile and attractive face with a muscular body. Sometimes, I would have to look away if they turned me on too much.
I fantasized about being with the young officers. I imagined their thick muscular arms around me, holding me in front of them. I imagined them nuzzling my neck and their lips kissing my cheeks as they felt my bare body. I imagined running my hands over their naked bodies. Pleasing them and being pleased by them. A feast for both. Infinitely inappropriate actions. Even though I was of age, I was still their superior officer's son. Whenever I touched myself in that special self-pleasing way, I imagined it was them.
One evening, we were having dinner. Occasionally, it was just the two of us because Mom was the COO for an architecture firm, and she would miss dinner because she worked late hours. He saw that I was barely eating. It was clear that a cloud hung over me. The cloud was called guilt. I felt guilty about keeping me being gay from them. He studied me and I'm sure he was running through possible causes. Was I sick? Was I having trouble in school? As far as he knew, neither. He asked with a worried tone, "Mijo? You okay?" I looked at him reluctantly and shook my head, "No. I've had these feelings for years and I hate having to keep them away from you and Mom. I just can't do this anymore." He looked at me and said, "You can always be honest with me. What's on your mind?" This was it and I declared, "Boys, Dad. I'm gay. I am only into other guys." As nervous as I was, I felt a strange contentment now that I had come out. Saying I was gay not once, but twice gave me a confidence.
Dad surprised me. He got up, walked around the table, and hugged me tightly before sitting closer to me. Dad said, "There isn't any need to hide or feel shame anymore around us. Just be true to yourself and we will always love you." I hugged Dad and, "Love you too Dad." My breathing and heart rate returned to normal as he looked at me. I got the feeling that my parents knew but had kept this to themselves until I was ready to announce myself. He nodded, "Yes, we've known. We've seen the way you look at the men I've brought around here from time to time." I blushed, but he didn't seem to mind. Rather, "Normal healthy feelings of a teenage boy. Your eyes just look in a different direction than mine."
The rest of the evening passed. Mom came home and gave me a big hug. She didn't have too much to add other than wonder when I would finally start to date and what kind of boy I would bring over as a companion. "It's what young people do. Go on dates."
With my feelings validated, I had an enticing dream that night involving usual suspect Mason Vinh Pham. Mason is Tyson's older brother, and he is the quintessential Asian himbo. He is a hot muscular guy with an attractive face, and he's also thick as a brick. However, he did well enough to keep playing rugby for the Saint Sebastian stingrays. He has an upbeat personality and a warm smile. Just the type of personality I liked best. He doesn't hesitate to help those in need and one can find him on Thanksgiving serving the disadvantaged. Then there was that time that he took off his shirt during class. After seven years, people still talked about what happened. No, nothing lewd happened. There was an accident in class and a student got cut badly. Before anyone else acted, he just pulled off his tee and tore strips to create a tourniquet. The paramedics said that his bandaging was excellent. That was the first step on the road that led him to becoming a nurse. On his spare time, he performs as an Elvis impersonator.
Although my parents knew I was gay, no one else knew. For the rest of my high school days, I remained in the closet for everyone else. Even Tyson didn't know. Even if he did, he kept it to himself. The closest thing was him quipping, "Ever seen my brother naked? I have. He's the only guy I can think of who has monster meat like you."
Monster meat. If I hadn't seen what I had seen, I might have thought Tyson was exaggerating. He was not. It was true what he said about Mason. I once spent the night at the Pham house during the weekend before Spring Break and the three of us stayed up late watching monster movies which we all enjoyed. It was around 1am when we decided to call it a night and we began to get ready for bed. As the oldest, he went into the bathroom first while I was to be second and Tyson would be last. On the way to the bathroom, I passed by his room, and there he was. Not in bed. He was posing in front of the mirror. Only underwear shielded his muscular body from the bliss of nakedness. I looked upon his prominent cloth covered bulge and knew instantly that his briefs contained quality cock. I had paused there too long to gawk. He looked up and saw me. He traced my line of sight to the wonder between his legs. He chuckled and smiled in his usual carefree way before continuing to check himself out.
I wish I had gotten a chance to taste him, but that didn't happen. A few months later, he was off to college and then his own separate life afterwards.
I often had naughty dreams about Mason Pham. My favorite is the one where he and I are in his jeep with Tyson asleep in the back. We are heading back into town after a night of stargazing. The road ahead of us and behind us is dimly lit and we are the only travelers on it. I keep looking at him or rather his bulge. He looks nervous as he checks the rearview mirror to make sure that his younger brother is still asleep. Embarrassment becomes his trademark smile. Encouraged, I reached over and placed my hand on his inner thigh. My hand gets closer, and I begin massaging the denim dome between his legs. He coos, "Don't stop. Please don't stop. Go right ahead and whip it out if you want. Play with it if you want. Taste it if you want." I reach over and I massage him while he continues to drive. I undo the snaps of his jeans and then I unzip. I reach inside and it springs out. It is already hard as steel and pearls of pre await. I lower my head and open wide to receive his succulent Vietnamese cock.
Mason leans back as if chilling on the sofa. Strangely, the jeep keeps going because it is now driving itself. It is a dream after all. Although he was straight, he doesn't want to pass on an opportunity such as this. I could imagine his cum sloshing in his balls as his rocket gets ready to blast off. Mason doesn't miss a beat and a bountiful amount viscous jock cream soon fills my mouth. A sleepy voice from the back seat, "What about me?" Tyson is half asleep but is aware enough to waggle his rock-hard prong in my face. He is aware enough to want my lips around him. I look upon him and nod eagerly. Here we go again as he takes both his hands and presses my face into his crotch with gentle force. Within minutes, I swallowed a second serving of Asian man sauce.
The rest of my Senior year passed without too much trouble. I graduated among the top 25 of my class. After graduation, I thought about making changes to my appearance. The hair stays and I wasn't going to get pierced or get a tattoo. I was open and honest with what I had in mind. My parents mused, "Oh?"
Within weeks, a significant portion of my underwear had been replaced by alluring hip briefs and trunk briefs. I remember the first time I wore one of the new pairs and I saw my reflection. I knew that I had made the right choice. I loved how they accentuated my cantaloupe round rear and bodacious bulge. Gone were the ordinary black and yellow swim trunks as I welcomed a speedo of avocado green. My eyes sparkled and a smile crept across my face again when I saw my reflection. Dad made no adverse reaction or comment beyond looking at what I bought with a perplexed look and then looking at my private area while cautiously saying, "If this is what you want to wear." Mom's opinion was more spirited, "Women wear stuff that's just as revealing."
My body was suitable for such apparel, and I felt privileged that I could. I ate well and I exercised to maintain this toned body. I wasn't muscular like Dad and the other Hurtado men, but I was just as stunning. Muy guapo.
I decided to stay in town for college and enrolled at Marconi University. It was a small campus and comprised of five city blocks by five city blocks. In the middle was a beautiful fountain with benches and patio tables around it. It was a favorite spot for those wanting to eat outside.
I entered my Freshman year ahead of schedule. To lighten the load, I took one of my core curriculum classes during Summer Semester. With one History class behind me, I truly entered my first semester.
My first roommate was a guy named Roger Larkin. I was cautious with him because I never shared a room with anyone before. He was studying Computer Science as a major with a minor in Cybersecurity. He was a night owl. He always seemed to be away with friends. I'd be in the room, and he'd say that he was heading out to hang out with some friends. Even at midnight, he still wasn't back yet. I don't know what time he would get in, but I would be mostly asleep when I heard the door unlock. The sound of him washing up and getting into bed would follow. He did take me out a couple of times with him, to see midnight releases of new flicks. We got back so late that dorm management had locked the main doors and we had to use the bell. However, I didn't like staying out super late like that. He could see I was uncomfortable with staying up late hanging out somewhere like that, so he didn't encourage me to join him and his buddies. Otherwise, we got along okay.
The roommate I had during my Sophomore year, Charlie Russell, seemed closer to my own temperament. He enjoyed TV shows that were sci-fi or fantasy based. He also was an avid gamer and had brought his Sega Genesis with him and a variety of games. He was also reserved like me and like me, he did not go out late at night like Roger. After coming back to the room after dinner at the school cafeteria, he stayed put and so did I. However, something happened during Spring Break. When I returned to the dorm, the manager called me into the office and explained that my roommate would not be coming back because he had to withdrawal. That is all I was told. I returned to my room and found it half bare just like it was in the beginning. It was too late to find me a replacement roommate, so I was alone for the last several weeks.
During these two years, I began to openly share my preference for the male when the subject of dating girls was posed. Some were surprised, but others had an inkling like my bestie Tyson Pham. He took the news well. He was the first to learn besides my parents.
We had met up for burgers when he came to town. While we waited for the food, "I've been wanting to tell you this for a while, but it is important to me that you know." He looked at me, "I'm all ears." I told him, "I like guys as in I'm gay." He needed no clarification, "I thought so. I had a feeling you were into dudes." Quietly discreet, "Anytime you came over to my place to spend the night, I knew I could always count on you to pop a massive boner whenever my bro was around. He sure got you going, huh?" Instinctively, I blushed. I was so embarrassed that I had been caught. What made matters worse was my best friend knew I had the hots for his brother. He chortled, "Nothing wrong with scoping him out like that. I got no problem, and he wouldn't either."
On that Saturday morning when I would move back into the dorm for my Junior year, I woke up early just like I had done the two previous years because I wanted to get first dibs with the room. I wanted to decide where I wanted to be in the room even though I only had two options: left side of the room or right side. I preferred the left side of the room.
I entered the room and found it empty. Excellent. I began to offload my belongings just the way I like it. Still no roommate by the time I finished setting up my side of the room. I did not have long to wait because I heard the door open. It was the moment of truth. I beheld him.
Thick was the name of my new roommate's game. He had thick arms, thick chest, thick thighs, and a thick Mexican ass. Who knows, he probably had a thick dick too. Oh? How did I know he was Mexican? Okay so it was a guess based on the black tee he had on. It displayed a Hecho en Mexico logo in white, a rounded square with an eagle's head. Although his complexion was lighter than mine, the difference wasn't too noticeable. Both of us were of the type of brown that some out there would classify as typical Latino. Please keep in mind that we come in a variety of tones. There were other differences that were more obvious. I was six feet tall, but he was much shorter. I would later learn that he was 5'6". I was cleanshaven while he had a thin trimmed moustache and soul patch.
As soon as he saw me, he energetically pelted me with Spanish. "Me llamo Raymundo Cervantes. Así que eres mi compañero de cuarto este año. Buen cuerpo. ¿Haces ejercicio?" Was this for real? I hadn't planned on rooming with an international student. He put the box he had with him down and stood up. He reached over and clasped my hand, "¿C"mo te llamas?" I mumbled, "Rodrigo Hurtado or Javier." He smiled, "Muy bien. Creo que seremos buenos compañeros de cuarto." He appears to be a nice guy and I don't want to reject and ask the staff for another roommate just because I can't understand what he is saying I'll just have to make this work and I hope he'll want to also.
Raymundo must have picked up on my awkwardness. "¿Habla español?" I shook my head, "Just English." He smiled, "Okay then. I'm good to go with English also. I'll be right back." He turned around and headed back out the door. He didn't disappoint my eyes as I looked down and gawked at his rear. It was round like mine, but his was meatier. I wanted to grab hold of it so badly and rub my cheeks against those melons he had packed inside his jeans.
Raymundo came back a couple more times until it appeared that he had brought in all his belongings and then he began setting up his side of the room. He was just as chatty in English as he was in Spanish, "My parents immigrated to Laredo from Guadalajara before I was born. We lived there for a few years until we moved to San Antonio when I was little. This was before my younger siblings, my two brothers, were born. I'm the first one in my family to go to college. I'm a transfer student and I'm in my Junior year. You?"
I said, "Native Texan born here in Houston. My family's been here for a several generations, but I am of Mexican descent. I'm an only child. Plus, we have a couple of cats named Frida and Shadow. Both of my parents have been to college before. I've been going to Marconi since Freshman year. I'm also a Junior" I don't know why I readily told him that I had the same ancestry, but I had no regret for telling him. He absorbed what I had said and was pleased, "We are countrymen then: two mexicanos going to school and rooming with each other. So? You work out?" I answered, "Some. Mostly treadmill and bicycle with a weekly dose of yoga to maintain my flexibility. See?"
I don't know why I did it, but I did it. I got on the floor and split my legs, 150 degrees. I lowered my face to the floor to show him more of the famed flexibility I was known for. He whistled, "That's what I call flexibility."
I got back up to my feet, "I was on the Track team throughout school. Did you play any sports?" Raymundo shook his head, "Never had time. I was always helping Dad in the shop. He's a car mechanic. The garage was my first gym. Besides, team sports just didn't interest me enough to join." I nodded and he moved onto a different subject, "Know any churches around here? I regularly attend and don't want to miss."
I didn't miss a beat, "I can walk there. It's a small community church. Modest. Many from the university go there unless they're local. I go there because it's closer than my own parish." Raymundo smiled, "Excellent. We can go together."
There wasn't much to do for the rest of the day until it was time to head down to orientation. I had been through one twice already. I might have avoided it because the meeting was mandatory. Plus, there was food. Raymundo sat next to me and smiled while he loaded up on pizza. He stuck close by me and, from what I could tell, shared my preference for small group settings.
First was the meeting, then the pizza and dessert consisting of cupcakes while residents chatted with one another. As it got later, people started to leave to head back to their rooms. Raymundo and were among the first since we had to wake up early tomorrow.
As soon as the door was closed and locked, he shucked off his socks and shoes. Right before me and without even asking if I was comfortable with that, he starts to take off his clothes. Tee and jeans go off and he tosses them into the laundry basket he had set in front of his bed. Mostly naked, I got a better look at him. His solid musculature was mouthwatering. Although Raymundo's chest hair covered his entire torso like Dad's, his wasn't as thick. Picture stubble after about three days. I had none except for the treasure trail leading down.
Our outlook on bedtime apparel differed. He slid on a tank to accompany the boxers that were left on. I, on the other hand, headed to the bathroom to change. I came out wearing gym shorts and an old tee. We each took turns brushing our teeth and using the bathroom. We climbed into our beds at almost the same time and turned off our lights. Darkness of that first day and I fell asleep.
In the quietness of the night, I felt movement. Movement next to me. Movement of a naked man next to me. He was no stranger to my eyes. It was Raymundo grinding his body against my own. I didn't know he was gay like me and besides, I hadn't even told him I liked guys. We had just met and I didn't want to define myself as Raymundo's gay roommate. I just wanted to be seen as his roommate. Yet here he was bringing infinite delight to me. He looked at me as he caressed an ear and whispered sensually in Spanish. He moved his head closer, and I soon felt the wetness of his tongue as it caressed the rim of my ear while I felt a hand between my legs. He plays with my foreskin and smiles in a mischievous way. He likes that I was uncut like him, "You are a proper Mexican man like me, uncut," A wink, "but you speak too much English. Soon, you will speak Spanish fluently like me. Lesson number one: F"llame! That means fuck me."
Bubble butt rose high in tribute. He waggles his rear with the same gusto that a catcher does for his pitcher.
Gently, I place a hand on one of his globes and I guide myself forward into him. Strange sensations traveled from cock to brain as I entered him, and his hole began massaging me. An inner voice told me to be one with my dick. Pure sensation, pure lust. Just hammer away and let my mind go blank.
Raymundo loved getting pounded in the ass. People would look at us and make assumptions based on our physiques and demeanor. Since Raymundo was stocky and energetic, he's certainly the top. Since Rodrigo is less muscular and he's meek, he must be a bottom. Sorry to disappoint, but I was the top and he was the bottom. His moaning mouth was a hurricane of Spanish. Just when I couldn't hold back anymore, his butt seemed intent on delaying the inevitable. He couldn't keep it up forever, and I began unleashing everything my mondo Mexican nuts had into him.
In the quietness of the night, I woke up startled. My eyes darted frantically to and fro. Raymundo was in his bed fast asleep. Me? My chest heaved. I had only known my roommate for a handful of hours, but he had given me a hot wet dream. The proof was the eight incher between my legs. It was still solid, and it had thoroughly soaked my briefs.
I pressed my hands into my face and groaned. Why did my brain have to conjure something like that? I wanted to think of Raymundo as my roommate and maybe friend. I didn't even know if he was into guys like me so I couldn't count on him being a possible love interest. Thanks a lot brain. I groaned again as I fluffed up my pillow and adjusted my sheets before attempting to go back to bed. I closed my eyes. Must try to sleep. Must try to have a normal relationship with Raymundo.
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I would appreciate any comments you may have, but please keep insults or flames to a minimum. I'll try to respond to everyone, but no promises. Please mention the title of the story so I know what you are referring to. You can email me at: chaoswolf04@yahoo.com.