QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Dirty Mexican

The Dirty Mexican
By Steve Prince
“I fucked the hell out of him.”
I coughed up my ginger ale. “You what?” I spattered.
“Yep,” Omar said with a mischievous grin, “pounded him like a tortilla.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“Well, if you’re Mexican,” Omar pointed to himself, “it makes perfect sense. Good tortillas are a lot of work.”
I regained my composure and smirked. “Well, I hope he was good one.”
“Eh,” Omar squeaked while waving his hand from side to side, “he helped me get the job done.”
“So, I’m assuming the single life is treating you well?” I asked.
“Very,” Omar replied, digging into his food.
Omar had only been single for about two weeks.
After a year and a half of living with Nathan, Omar felt stifled. Nathan had moved in six months ago, and ever since then things had gone downhill. When I asked Omar if something had gone terribly wrong, he shook his head side to side.
“Not really,” he pondered nonchalantly.
It’s funny that we often think that couples have to have a terrible tragedy or extreme conflict to break up. Even straight people think that way. Perhaps it’s the drama queen in all of us. I mean, the Greeks kind of planted the seeds of dramatic breakup in their plays and it seems to have grown in our minds over the ages.
The reality of the situation is, sometimes break ups aren’t that dramatic. Omar is an example of that. Over the last eight months, Nathan has been horribly depressed and dependent on Omar to take care of him. Finally, Omar realized he couldn’t “fix” Nathan. And so he called it off and Nathan moved out.
It might sound selfish, but it was good to have Omar back. Troy, Alex, Cody, and I had often felt like we had lost a friend because Omar became completely engrossed in his relationship. I didn’t blame Omar; he was doing what he thought best. Still, I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt my feelings. His friendship meant a lot to all of us. Suddenly, our little group felt a cog missing.
And, I can’t lie, it was good to have Omar’s promiscuity back. Omar could pick up men with ease. I mean it wasn’t a surprise. He’s a very handsome man. That’s the best way to describe him… handsome. With his strong square jaw, short black hair peppered with grey, and his slim tight body, Omar was one of a kind. He also had a beer-can-dick; at least that’s what I called it. That thing was so thick that a paramedic could use it as the jaws-of-life to pry someone out of a crushed car. It was thick and hard like a Redwood tree.

With all that said, its Omar’s confidence that amazes me the most. It oozes out of him by the smoothness of his speech, his calm demeanor, and his hearty laugh—he’s a catch.
“So where did you meet this guy?” I asked. There was no telling with Omar. Once, he literally picked up a guy walking from a bar to his car. To this day, he still doesn’t know that guy’s name.
Omar swallowed his food.
“He was my moving man,” he said flatly.
“What?” I stammered.
“Yep,” he said as if it made complete sense.
I was dumbfounded. “But how… why?” I laughed, while grabbing the sides of my head with my hands.
“Well, I’ll tell you a story,” Omar said setting down his fork. He settled himself in his chair as if he was about to tell me something really good. I grinned with anticipation.
“When Nathan moved in, I had to put some of my things into storage to make room. So, since he moved out last weekend, I wanted to get some things out of storage. Anyway, I needed someone to help me.”
“You should have asked me,” I interrupted, “I totally would have helped.”
He looked at me obviously.
“Ah,” I got it, “but you wouldn’t have fucked me afterward. Okay, so you planned this?”
“Not exactly,” Omar slowed as if deciding on his answer. “Basically, I went to Home Depot and picked up one my fellow Mexicans that stand around looking for work.”
“You did not!” I blurted out loudly. Omar has such a penchant for Mexican men.
“Oh yes I did, Steve Prince,” Omar replied. He continued to explain himself, as if the his reasoning was completely obvious. “Look, I’m a dirty Mexican. Therefore I know what dirty Mexican boys are like.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying that,” I said stifling a giggle.
“What?” Omar answered. “I’m don’t mean ‘dirty’ in a racist way. I mean dirty in a dirty way,” he said, making his voice growl a little. “Mexican men, on the whole, are way more passionate that white boys. We don’t play games. My people—we get to it.”
“Point made,” I said businesslike. “I’m just surprised that one of the workers’ at Home Depot was gay.”
“There’s always a few,” Omar said taking a bite, “believe me, I know my own.”
“Apparently,” I agreed.
“So this is what I did,” Omar said putting down his fork. “First I went to U-Haul and rented a truck for the day. Then, I drove to Home Depot and I looked for the cutest guy standing in the parking lot. I had to look for a bit, but finally I saw him. The perfect guy. He had beautiful full lips and was wearing a wife beater, jeans, and boots. His ass was the cutest little bubble I’ve ever seen. And, to top it all off, he had this naïve look on his face that said to me, ‘I think my machismo ass wants to get fucked’. He was perfect! So, I got out of my car, walked up to him and said, ‘Do you speak English?’ He nodded and that as good enough for me. He hopped in my car and we were on our way.”
Omar picked up his fork and took another bite. He was growing more and more excited as he told his story, and working up an appetite perhaps.
“So then, we went to my storage unit and talked while unloading it. It wasn’t much, only took an hour. And while we talked I kept thinking, ‘This guy might be gay.” But I wasn’t sure, still my gaydar was just going off, ya know?”
I nodded gleefully like a little kid being told a Santa story on Christmas Eve. This was good shit. I had to remind myself that it had happened in real life and not porn.
Seeing his captive audience, Omar continued, his pace slowing to build suspense.
“So, we went over to my stuff and unloaded everything, which took only forty-five minutes. And of course we both got really sweaty from having to lug everything up a flight of stairs. So, I offered him beer, which he accepted and we both talked for a bit. Then he got up to go, and was about to leave when he said, ‘What about my tip?” I looked at him, and asked, ‘What tip?” even though I knew exactly what he meant.”
“You meant the ‘tip’ of your dick, sugar!” I said laughing.
Omar guffawed with me, “Of course!” He cleared his throat. “Okay, so listen to this next part, because even I thought it was great. So I asked, ‘What tip?’ and he said, ‘I usually get tipped,” and I said…”
Omar paused, about to reveal the money phrase, “‘Well, I always thought to earn a tip you have to do something tipworthy’ and I looked down at my crotch. Then, he smiled, walked up to me and dropped to his knees. I was already hard because the whole thing was so hot, and he began sucking me off.”
“Oh my God,” I said, trying not to yell in the restaurant, “that’s amazing! Does this really happen to people?”
“Oh, it does, but wait,” Omar held up his hand, “there’s more! Then I said while he’s sucking me off, ‘The more tipworthy you are, the more I tip,’ and then—without missing a beat—he stood up, took all of his clothes off, bent over and spread his ass, presenting himself to me.”
“Did you use a condom?” I asked to make sure.
“Of course,” Omar reassured me. “When I’m single, I always carry a lubricated condom in my pocket… for emergencies.”
I shook my head smiling. Damn he’s dirty and awesome. “So that’s it?”
“Pretty much,” Omar sighed, “he wanted me to suck him off, but after I came I was done. Besides he was the one working… not me.”
“Wow…” I said slowly applauding, “then he just left?”
“Yep,” Omar said finishing his plate, “he said he lived close. And I tipped him twenty bucks.”
“Wow,” I teased, “big spender.”
“Well you know me,” Omar grinned, “always the philanthropist.”
As if he knew Omar’s story had just finished, our waiter came up to us and placed the bill on the table. “Whenever you’re ready gentleman,” he said, his dark brown eyes smiling at us both. He was very cute and he looked Latino. I saw Omar eye-raping him as well.
As he walked away, I took the bill. “I’ll get this, I owe you from that movie the other night,” I said.
“Okay,” Omar replied. “Well,” he paused and looked over at our waiter, “how about I get the tip”?
Did I mention how great it is to have Omar back?
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow
Commando
Cum As You Are?
Aftershock!
Caught in the Act
The Great Compromise
The Tipping Point
Cross Country
In Stereo
Get Smart
Blind Faith