I fell in lust in San Diego
Oh gawd this shit almost never happens to me. I pride myself on not liking people. I really can’t ever get into some dude. Why would I?
I knocked on my friend’s door but this big buff dude came to the door in boxers, a neon green sock, a neon pink sock, and flip flops. Nothing else. “Is Cassandra here?” I asked. “I would have called but I lost her number” I followed up “Are you her boyfriend?” Dude was built. I wanted to know what the score was. Why did Cassandra have a mostly naked body builder answering the door? “No” he assured me “I’m her new roommate.” “Ahh, I see” I said, sounding like I knew the full back story.
“Come in, come in” he said. We chatted, I told him I was in town on a whim and that Cassandra had been holding onto a possession of mine, for me, since I left, years ago. Sadly Cassandra was not around. She was at the university and not expected back for many hours. I got his number, and hers too.
I went to the beach.
Later when Cassandra suggested that I crash at her place I drank with the two of them. He was surprisingly pleasant. His persona was one part BRO and one part subbie. He brought us things, made us tea, shut the fuck up while we were chatting. I was almost not offended by him at all. That is saying a lot.
The next day I was planning on going into Tijuana alone. Though a series of ‘you shouldn’t go alone” and “how long are you going to be there” I invited Mr Mussels to come to TJ with me.
The next morning MM and I drove to the border and walked across.
NOW AN ANGRY NONSENSE TANGENT
It was Friday, we spent several hours shopping, drinking, eating, wandering around and having fun. We expected a lengthy weight at the line (as the crossing is called). When we were ready to leave, and expected to have time enough to do so we headed to the border crossing only to discover that there was not a wait. It took five minutes for us to cross at 10 pm on a Friday night. Um, wtf?
Seems as if the fear mongering is actually working. When I was a teenhole I would go to Mexico on the weekends and get trashed, walk back across and have no problems save for a few hours wasted waiting to get back into the states. I am very sad that there are not any tourists waiting to get back across the border, this could not be good for the Mexican economy.
I love Mexico. I grew up spending as much time there as possible. I still feel like Baja is part home, the part I go to in the dead of winter, when I cant stand not having anyone to make love to on the beach. Porto Nuevo, Rosarito, Ensenada — Home. Why is the line so short?
People are scared of getting killed. I didn’t get killed. I got good service, I was invited back. The chicklet kids even split when the elders told them to get lost.
Going into Mexico is not a scary thing to do. Baja is the land of tacos and margaritas, the land of hot springs on the beach, of hiking and eating, and peyote, and straight up fun. Where are the people? Why are people here so willing to believe that something bad will happen to the average American citizen? What the fuck ever happened to a free trade agreement? Mexico got fucked by US policies, free speech, and republican racism. My heart breaks for the Mexican people who put their faith in nafta. There was never anything that stopped the US from scaring their citizens into NOT crossing the border, there was never anything that prevented the states from hiring private police to patrol the border. I saw more guards with bullet proof gear than I did civilians crossing. The place was littered with La Mira. Fuck that shit. I want an open border. The people of Mexico were promised an open border. Why are we killing them for trying to come into the states to get jobs and feed their families?
My family is part Mexican. All of my immediate ancestors lied and cheated and stole and hustled to be in the states. I am as white as they come and I am horrified at the policies that govern the us Mexico line.
Build a wall at the Canadian line. Stop the funny people from taking MY Job.
And oh yeah, the dude with the mussels. Yum.
BACK TO THE SEXY PART
The whole weekend I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to play. We flirted, we made jokes, we walked a strange line of Cassandra. She is one of my sweetest friends and I would never do anything to hurt her, including fucking her roommate. Did she like this dude? Would it be alright to hump him and split town? I didn’t know.
I wasn’t going to make any moves on him at all, but then I realized that it has been way too long since I have had sex. I’m so horny I’m finger fucking myself ever time I take a piss, I’m trying not to drool while I eye his mussels. Yeah, I want some of that. So I decide sometime before my flight out that I’m totally goanna fuck him at the beach before my flight, like an hour before my flight. But as I’m always running late for shit, I missed my flight out of SoCal. I missed it cause I was flirting with this dude, I was getting into the idea of jumping on him, but then, yeah I was behind schedule, so we rushed to the airport and I had to call him to return for me.
While he was returning I called Cassandra and asked her if it would be all right for me to fuck the living daylights out of her roommate or if she would be hurt or something. I’m used to dealing with sex workers, not civilians. But Cassandra is not a sex worker, she is a nice normal woman with no frame of reference for what I was asking. For whatever reason she cock blocked the whole thing. I have no way of knowing if she realized that that she cock blocked this little party, or if she knew what she was up to. Asking after the fact might just invite drama.
Mussel boy returned and Cassandra started wanting to know what was going on. I was running on very little sleep and a simple need to fuck. I feel like my question was out of left field, Cassandra had been working all weekend while I was kicking it with Man Meat. So, when we returned to Cassandra’s home we went for a walk, we danced on street sign poles, I took a couple pills and got a little loopy. We groped each other like a couple of friends who want to fuck but one of whom is a mutual friend’s bf / go so we don’t fuck, but sort of pet and grope and kiss and tease and get REALLY into each other, as to develop a major lust. A lust that would have been cured if a good hard pounding had come from this. But no, we molested each other through our clothing.
Even when I took my pants off to attempt to climb a stop sign, even when he bent me over a white picket fence, even while we were on the foggy beach and no one would have known, there was the reality of Cassandra’s mental health. So we groped like a couple of Christian teenagers, but sadly we never got it on.
And I really needed it. Really a lot.
I’m at home and I can’t stop jerking off. I’m having a masturbate-a-thon, not a blog-a-thon. I can’t stop imaging the way his hands felt on my arse, the way he dry banged me as he help onto my big juicy hips. Yeah, I now have the hots for some random dude who I will maybe never see again. He is in California living with Cassandra, I’m here thinking about fucking the two of them at the same time.
Oh, if only we had fucked I would not be all needy and pathetic. I’m gonna go to the strip clubs this week. I need to fuck a stranger.