I Turned the Coast Macho My Father Brought Home

It was Sunday, and I had gotten up early to play my eight o’clock match. My brother Tomás had his later, in Yumbo, a long hour from Cali, so he left as soon as dawn broke. My father, who had behaved himself that time and hadn’t stayed out all night, went out too: he had one of those neighborhood kickabouts he organized with the guys from the area, no referee, no rules, teams of twelve or fifteen guys, and whoever took the first goal spent the rest of the game shirtless. After that, as always, came the beers.

That weekend was a holiday, and my mother had gone with my aunt to my grandfather’s farm in the north of Valle. That left the men alone in the apartment, which suited me perfectly. That night I planned to go out partying in a neighborhood I know well, and I wanted to rest all afternoon before that.

When my match ended, I showered in the locker room, stayed a while with my teammates, and then headed home. While I was going up in the elevator, I was already thinking about flopping onto the bed and sleeping until sunset.

Before I put the key in the lock, I heard noise inside: men’s voices and salsa playing loudly. I figured my father had come back with the guys from the match and they’d be drinking on the balcony. I opened the door and, sure enough, I wasn’t wrong. At the back, next to the big window, there he was with five friends, all of them already older, with their beers and music.

But they weren’t the ones who interested me.

At the kitchen island, away from the group, was a guy about twenty-four sitting on one of the stools. He had a beer beside him and was glued to his phone. Just seeing him made my mouth go dry. He was dark-skinned, with a defined jaw and high cheekbones, his hair cut close with a sharp lineup, and a perfectly trimmed short beard. The white tank top showed off thick arms you don’t get from a gym, and the red shorts revealed strong, hairy legs.

—Hey, man —I said, walking over—. Camilo.

—What’s up —he replied, looking up from his phone—. Brayan.

I greeted the others, kissed my father the usual way, and went back to the kitchen area with my gym bag. I left my soccer gear on top of the washing machine and started taking out my sweaty clothes while I picked up the conversation with Brayan again. Without thinking twice, I took my shirt off in front of him and stayed in my shorts.

He told me he was the nephew of one of my father’s friends, that he lived with him and worked hauling sacks in a market. That was where all that strength came from. He was from the coast, from Riohacha, and had only been in the city for a short time. I offered him a very cold beer, poured myself a Gatorade, and we kept talking about soccer for a good while. I kept playing along, but inside I was only thinking about one thing.

—I’m going to take a shower —I told him, even though I’d already showered at the stadium—. Wait here, I’ll be right back.

***

From the stool at the bar, you could see part of my room. I kept that in mind. I went in, left the door ajar, and positioned myself so he could see me. With my back to him, I slowly pulled down my shorts and boxer briefs, showed him my ass without hiding anything, and just as I wrapped the towel around my waist, I turned my head. Our eyes met for a second. He didn’t look away.

I went to the bathroom in my parents’ room and turned on the water, more to waste time than anything else. I came out wrapped in the towel, passed through the kitchen, opened two beers, and, still as I was, suggested he come to my room so he wouldn’t be left alone out there. He agreed without a word.

He sat on the bed, leaning his back against the wall. We kept talking and, while we talked, I let the towel fall. I stood naked in front of him, picked up the hand cream, and started rubbing it over my whole body, purposely lingering on my ass and thighs. Then I put on a tiny pair of shorts that left very little to the imagination.

—Sorry —I said—. Doesn’t it bother you if I change in front of you?

—It’s cool, man —he replied with a shrug—. In the army you live naked, seeing everything. This is nothing.

—And do you drink a lot or what?

—Yeah, man. I like rum too. What about you?

—Me too. Though I don’t drink much beer, I’m more into rum —I laughed—. Got a girlfriend?

—Nah, man. Girls here are too greedy. If you don’t have a good motorcycle, they won’t even look at you. One date costs a fortune, like you were rich. Better to stay single. You probably do have one.

—Nope —I said—. I like being on my own, no commitments. And you’re right, better to have your own thing made to order. Do you go to the gym?

—No gym at all. This is from hauling sacks all day —he looked at his arm—. What I do like is soccer.

—So how do you blow off steam then?

—How do you mean? —he asked, though something in his smile told me he understood perfectly.

—Sexually, I mean. They say coast guys are really horny, always turned on.

—Oh, that’s true. You’re always horny, but you always get something done. Something always comes up —he laughed—. You do whatever turns out good.

—Whatever turns out good? —I repeated, holding his gaze—. Well, look at that. Interesting.

—You interested? —he said, and his voice dropped half a tone.

—Yeah. A lot.

—Speak freely, you’re in your house —he shifted on the bed—. Say what interests you.

—What do you think interests me?

—I don’t know. You’re the one who knows —he bit his lip—. But what I saw a little while ago was pretty damn hot.

—What? This? —and I yanked my shorts down, showing him my ass again.

—That. It’s really hot —he said, and reached out to touch me.

***

I put my hand over his shorts and felt him hard as a rock. Before going further, I asked him to wait a second. I left the room and motioned for my father to come over to the kitchen.

—I’m going to be with the guy for a while —I told him quietly—. If anyone asks, tell them we’re playing console and that I don’t like being interrupted. Keep them busy out there.

—Relax, have a good time —he answered with a slight smile, not losing his calm—. Go on.

I went back, locked the door, and knelt in front of Brayan. He got nervous.

—But it’s messy with all those people out there —he said in a low voice—. Your dad, my uncle. Better another day, man.

—Relax —I told him, running my hand over his thigh—. My dad already knows that when I’m playing console I don’t like being bothered. Nobody’s going to suspect anything. Don’t worry.

I touched his cock through the fabric and then slid my hands up his legs, thick and hard, slipping my fingers into the leg opening of his shorts. I pulled to one side and took it out: dark, thick, tense, veined. It wasn’t huge, but it was beautiful, and it was completely erect. I leaned down and gave it the first slow licks, looking up at him from below, enjoying the way he watched me without quite believing it.

It tasted of salt, sweat, of a whole day of work and soccer. That macho smell turned me on more than anything else. I pulled his shorts all the way down and took him fully into my mouth. I had to breathe through my nose to take it. Brayan let out a rough growl and put his hands on my head, setting the pace, pushing me down on him. He twisted against the wall, clenching his teeth so he wouldn’t make noise.

I moved down to lick his balls while I worked him with my hand. He was breathing harder and harder. I brushed his ass with one finger, just barely, and he opened his legs a little, almost without realizing it. I tried to go lower, but he grabbed my face and pulled me back to his cock.

—No —he murmured—. Better get on all fours, I’ll fuck you.

I took off my shorts and got into position the way he wanted, on my knees on the bed. I got myself nice and wet with my fingers. I felt the head press against me and push in, slowly at first, working his way in. I pressed my face into the mattress and reached my hands back to his ass, pulling him toward me, asking him to shove it all in and not hold back.

He did. He sped up the movement of his hips, coming in and out hard. He put two fingers in my mouth for me to suck and bit my shoulder. Then he rolled me onto my side, stood at the edge of the bed, and kept fucking me from there, holding my leg up high.

—Harder —I asked through clenched teeth—. So it doesn’t make noise, but harder.

He ended up flipping me completely onto my back. He put a pillow under my hips to lift me and sank into me again, this time looking me in the face. He was pounding me almost with rage, as if he had something to prove to himself, and every so often he covered my mouth with his palm so no moan would slip out. I dug my heels into his back. Outside, the salsa kept playing, the old guys’ laughter, the clinking of bottles, and us there, three meters away, in absolute silence.

When he was about to come, he yanked his cock out and spilled over my chest, my neck, and my mouth. I came almost at the same time, without having touched myself at all, just from feeling him inside me and on top of me. He stayed there for a moment, resting on me, catching his breath, his forehead beaded with sweat.

***

I handed him some wet wipes and a towel so he could clean himself up. We got dressed without rushing, still breathing hard. I opened the door carefully and we went out like nothing had happened, going back to the pose of two guys who had just been playing console for a couple of hours.

—Nobody can know about this —he told me in a low voice, as he adjusted his tank top.

—Relax —I replied—. It stays between us. And whenever you want to do it again, you know where to find me.

—Deal, man —he smiled, and for the first time all afternoon I saw him truly relaxed—. That ass of yours is a knockout.

A while later they all left. My father gathered the bottles, winked at me from the kitchen, and didn’t say a single word. I flopped onto the bed and slept the whole afternoon, satisfied, saving my energy for the night’s party.

The very macho guy, the one who claimed women were a problem and that he was always horny, had fallen without putting up much resistance. And something told me, as I closed my eyes, that this wouldn’t be the last time Brayan knocked on my door.