Cruising on Christmas

Chapter 2

Chapter 2After yet no luck on the gay apps, I sat on a bench at a small park in Ferndale, almost a half-hour north of Detroit. Since it was practically the gay city of Michigan, I hoped I’d have some kind of luck. It was surprisingly more cool than cold today, a bit warmer than typical, but I was still able to see people’s breaths a little bit. I wore a lighter coat than my main winter one. It was like the day had yelled at me to go out and f**k like the Energizer Bunny. That was the only plus side of not having a white Christmas this year.

My phone chimed with a text notification. I checked it and smiled at Juanito’s message that read, Hey, Alexito! Any luck with your hot culito? ;)

I quickly told him I’d just gotten here, and that my culito was more of a culón with my big porn-star ass, thank you very much. Oddly enough, I didn’t have it in me to post nudes and videos of myself anywhere online, not even through phone texts. G-rated pics on gay apps would always be the only exception of sharing anything like that online, and that was only because I knew I’d have better luck than being faceless on my profiles. Anything else was where my shyness took over. I latched onto my privacy tighter than a preacher’s hand on a church offering. Since I had the body of a porn star with a hung and uncut c**k, I knew I’d be popular, but paranoia won me over every time. One of my closeted jock friends had gotten blackmailed over his nudes once, which had caused huge drama with his family, and it had made me relieved that I’d never experience that myself.

Another text from Juanito read, Good luck, you sexy f**k! ;)

I sighed as I stared at his words on the screen. It was funny how I wasn’t looking for love but would drop everything to make him an exception. When would I finally get over him? If only he wanted more with me. If only he was capable of being monogamous. We’d be perfect together. Ah, well. I had to move on.

From a distance, I spied a man hungrily staring at me while cautiously groping his bulge. He looked just like Santa Claus, apart from his rags for clothes and a disheveled mop of hair. Ugh, f**k no! As hot as my chimney-rendezvous fantasy was, he was as far from my type as my ass was to Antarctica. I always envisioned a much-younger and athletic Santa with a fake beard to yank on and a nice c**k to ride on. Not an authentic Santa, true, but who the f**k cared? Whenever someone I wasn’t into looked my way, I made sure never to give any eye contact to avoid false hopes. Sadly, it didn’t always work since not everyone could take a f*****g hint.

An hour later, I became impatient, and two hours later, I became hopeless and desperate. Several other men around were just meh, mostly older dudes. Maybe the hotties didn’t feel the need to hook up on Christmas because they were either with their families or were already taken. The corners of my mouth wilted like a shriveled c**k. It wasn’t so much that I’d go home empty-handed, since I’d just let Juanito f**k the s**t out of me if all else failed, but that I’d disappoint my fans for the first time since I’d created “Adam and His Slutty Steves” at barely eighteen. The taboo experiences I’d had as a kid had been what popularized my blog because of its shock value, along with my (nearly) weekly hookup stories that were sometimes funny and full of drama. Nothing on there was ever fiction because my sluttiness made it pointless, and I refused to be a phony f**k by making up s**t, even if I could get away with it. During my month of celibacy right after the year-long s*x challenge, I’d posted that I’d be on hiatus to rest my c**k and ass, so I didn’t count that as an actual disappointment, since I’d let my followers know ahead of time.

Fuck, I’d become a sham after the highly anticipated hookup made me realize it could very well be a no-go. It was a big deal because of my past refusal to have s*x on Christmas, which I’d been vocal about on my blog, so I was expected to land myself an epic hookup to then detail everything as explicitly as I was known to do.

I let out a gentle sigh as I barely took glimpses at the scenery around me. The wetness and leftover snow of nature resembled my mood. Why the f**k was I sexually mourning over a possible no-go? I’d taken everything about this epic hookup so seriously that the anxiety hit me harder than I’d been ready for. If I went home after midnight with no epic hookup, I swore I’d end my blog with a final post, a dramatically sad exit that would make Joan Collins clap in tears. Okay, so, I’d lose follower after follower faster than I could say “f**k,” but I’d get over it.

Hopefully.

After the third hour and no one good enough to suit my taste, I realized I did have one last hope after having wasted so much time. I could go to Share N Care for a quick search. Since it was a bathhouse, there was no way it’d be empty. I’d go to a gay bar, but it’d be too close to midnight by the time a decent crowd formed, assuming it wasn’t dead because of the holiday. Oh, who was I kidding? The bathhouse could still be even deader. Why waste my time when I was convinced I’d find no one there? No, no, I should still try. I was desperate, after all.

I left the park and ignored another old thirsty f**k eying me with the cringy kind of starvation. Ugh, f*****g trolls should go back under the bridge where they belonged. I reached my new electric-blue sports car that a hot sugar-daddy-turned-stalker had given me a few months ago. I hopped inside, and the black leather seat instantly comforted my back and ass. After starting the engine with the heater on low, my phone rang. Mami’s photo appeared on the screen, and I smiled warmly at the much-needed distraction from my melodramatic downward spiral. “Hey, Mami, how are you?”

“Hola, Alexito, ¿cómo estás?” No matter how down I was, her soft voice always lifted me up, even though I’d already seen her earlier in the morning at her house. We always celebrated Christmas on the eve and opened our gifts at midnight like many fellow Latinos I knew did, but my parents, siblings, and I did our own little thing at our parents’ house every Christmas morning.

“I’m doing okay. Just driving around, not doing anything special.”

“Pues, mira, since you’re not doing nothing, vente a la iglesia conmigo.”

I chuckled with no surprise. “I’m not going to church with you. Like, no.” Even for being gay-affirming and open to all walks of life, I still wasn’t interested in going.

“Ay, I know, but I want you to meet someone.” Her tone was way too cheerful. “His name is Miguel and he’s going to be there. I told him all about you and he is interested in meeting you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mami, are you seriously trying to hook me up with someone again?” Though, it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been cursed with having a homophobic mom who’d done anything but set me up with an actual dude. Even Papi was super cool about my sexuality. Though, I suspected it helped that I had a straight brother and two straight sisters to give him and Mami all the grandkids they could ever beg for.

“But he’s cute!” she added. “And he’s your age, too! And he’s really nice with good morals and family values. He told me he wants to get married someday to start a family and he—”

“Mami, stop, no! Every guy you’ve introduced me to has not been my type at all. That last one? I was insulted that you’d even think I could ever want him.”

“Ay, please, he wasn’t that bad, mi hijo. You’re just being dramatic.”

I sighed. “No, more like you always forget the type of guys I prefer.”

“I know, I know, you want them to look like perfect models. Well, I don’t know any perfect models. You’re too picky and it’s why you’re always single.”

“Mami? Please don’t look anymore for me. I’m fine doing it myself, okay? I promise. And I’m not even looking for love right now, anyway. I’m only twenty-two, I have plenty of time for that.” When would she ever learn?

“But you’re my baby…” Her voice cracked with emotion. Because I was her youngest child, I’d been the most spoiled of them all. If only she knew about my s****l history that would make Don Juan DeMarco smirk with pride. She’d have a heart attack. I was an angel in her eyes with a c*m-stained halo hidden behind my back, and I wasn’t polishing the f**k out of that halo for as long as I lived. Besides, none of the men she’d introduced me to was into hookups, not that I’d ever considered touching them with a ten-foot pole.

“Mami…please?” I pleaded as best as I could, which I knew would work.

“Okay, okay, está bien,” she said in a defeated tone. “I won’t bother with your love life anymore. But I still would like you to meet this one, and he will be the last one. He’s the best one of all the ones I introduced you to. I think you’ll really like him a lot. Give him a chance at least.”

I rolled my eyes. When would she drop it already?

“How about you come with me to church just to meet him? Maybe ten, twenty minutes? If you don’t like him, you can leave, and I won’t bother you about it ever again.” She said that every time and failed.

I had to admit that the curiosity killed me, only because I was desperate to fulfill the C3. Granted, I was convinced the guy would be slightly below average at best if he was supposedly the special pick of the litter. I’d probably shorten the time to five minutes, though, if that. Every minute I had to find a good Christmas c**k was too precious to let go to waste. “Okay, fine. Five minutes and not a minute more.”

“Vamos a ver.” She sounded like she’d finally succeeded without realizing how wrong she most likely was, and too desperate for me to find love.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” The things I did to make Mami happy, even though she did seem particularly more optimistic this time, oddly enough.