Tracey Parker is an urban explorer, based in Mexico City, who discovers and presents unique gay cultures around the world. After sharing with Squirt members the steamy hookups that take place at gay bathhouse 240 Sauna in Peru, Tracey takes us to another place in Lima to meet hustlers and guys looking for a late-night good time.
After walking around the Spanish Colonial Plaza several times and taking a seat on a different bench between each lap, I had a general idea of the scene here. I had identified a handful of guys who were obvious sex workers and a few “maybes” as well; unsure if they were, but going on my “spidey-sense” that they may also be working among the other guys.
A friend I had met earlier in the week had told me that there was a recent news report about male sex workers frequenting the square of Downtown Lima, Peru, at Plaza San Martín.
I watched it, and it was an excellent beginner tutorial. They said they would typically charge between 40 and 50 Soles, which is equivalent to between $10 and $20 USD.
Based on the fact that a local news channel produced the piece, I assumed it would focus more on the impact it had on the community rather than the nuts and bolts and costs of the services offered.
However, I was new to the country and its culture, and I couldn’t rely on any of my past lessons in gay park cruising to be of much use here. Anything was possible.
The most handsome guy in the park was rough-looking with tattoos and questionable hygiene.
However, he had beautiful eyes and facial features, and he had a fantastic physique. He was the first person I made contact with. I asked him what he was doing here, and he was very straightforward. He told me he charged 20 soles. It was a price much lower than they mentioned on the news.
I looked him in the eyes and saw a blank ghost, like there was nothing behind the eyes. I didn’t get a good feeling about it. He was probably on drugs, but I decided to move on. Looking back,
I’m confident I made the right decision. A lot of guys tempt you with a small price so they can rob you or cause drama once you’re alone in the hotel room. They never do what they say they are going to do, and they often charge more than initially stated.
I was cruising the park looking for someone who matched what I was looking for; there were a lot of tough-looking guys who weren’t my type. I felt disappointed; my initial interest from the local news report faded as the opportunity and expectation of hooking up waned as the day progressed.
I decided to take another lap around and locked eyes with a younger guy in a leather jacket. He was black, tall, and skinny. His face indicated that he was a cool kid in school when he was younger. Guys like this are more my type.
This time, Cool Kid smiled at me. I slowed down and looked up at him. He was sitting on a concrete pedestal or retaining wall. I had to hop up onto it with him so we could talk.
He told me that he came here a few times a week and that he was indeed working and looking for clients. He told me he charged 50 soles; this was on the high end of the price range quoted on the news report.
There was a confidence bordering on arrogance in the tone of his voice when he told me his price. I liked how it sounded. I’d rather commit to a higher price and pay it than accept a bargain and then fight over the price at the end.
I agreed to his terms. He told me there was a simple hotel just down one of the side streets where we could go and do whatever I wanted.
I liked how this was going. I told Cool Kid, let’s go, and we both climbed down from the retaining wall and walked along the plaza to the hotel. We continued to make small talk. He told me he was from Venezuela and that he lived here in Lima with his family.
The hotel was located inside an old colonial building. The entrance had high ceilings and a desk with a cage door behind it. The female hotel attendant checked both of our IDs and recorded some information. She kept his and returned mine. She charged me 17 Soles and buzzed us in after I had paid and she had given me my change.
I followed him upstairs. He had a seriousness and authority about him that was very attractive.
He unlocked the door to our room and walked inside. I followed him and closed the door behind me. We were alone now. We both looked each other in the eye, and then he began to remove his clothes.
His body was weirdly proportioned. When you travel, you realize that different races around the world are very different, and it takes a little time to adjust your expectations. But he was beautiful. He had moist, translucent skin that glowed under the single, harsh light bulb that hung from the ceiling.
I followed his lead and took off my shirt. Our scents from different worlds mingled in the small box of a room we found ourselves in; our shadows were already overtaking one another, and our bodies would follow.
We unbuttoned our belts, unzipped our pants, exposing our underwear and our growing penises; I could see the half-erect dick between the fabric of his underwear swell, even in the dim light. His long, curved, skinny penis fell in front of his body. We both evaluated our naked bodies.
As we got up onto the room’s unusually high mattress, he smiled at me as if to say: This is all yours.
I crawled up to him and grabbed his cock. I tickled his big balls that hung down onto the bed sheets. I held the balls, clutching a little harder than was comfortable, and stared at them, as my chest filled with a desire and humiliation that I knew so well. I hated the feeling, but I learned how to overcome it. I put the cock into my mouth and began to breathe onto it as I blew him slowly.
I heard him sigh and tell me how good it felt. We continued like this until I got greedy and wanted him inside of me. I got up and crawled on top of him and placed his cock tip on the outside of my hole. I could look right down into his eyes.
I slowly began to open my hole with his cock. His hard dick now stood straight up, and it looked like nothing was going to make it soft. It was a hard cock you could count on. Right then, I knew I had made a great selection out on the plaza. He was going to wear me out.
He let me sit down on about half of it before asking me if he could put on a condom.
Let me open myself up a little bit more, I asked him.
He nodded, and I put my eager hole down on the cock myself a few times. I could feel some pre-cum already, which was lubing itself up inside of me. Then I got up and let the hard dick fall out so he could prepare as requested.
He reached over to the bedside table, tore open a condom, and placed it on himself. He had a strong, swift way of moving that showed he knew exactly what he was doing and was a master of his body.
I got onto all fours and placed my hole in front of him. He got onto his knees on top of the mattress. I could see him reflected in the mirror on the wall. He carefully grabbed both of my ass cheeks, squeezed them, smacked them, and said “Qué rico culito.”
He spat on his hand and wetted my hole with his saliva. Then he began to penetrate me for the second time.
I trusted him entirely. He slowly entered and continued to push himself inside of me. My hole would stretch and pinch, but always continued to open up for him. It hurt, but never for too long.
He just kept going further and further until I could feel him begin to tap inside and not go any further.
There was a steady level of pain and a larger level of pleasure rippling through me as he allowed his dick to enter me fully. I had the sensation that I had never done this before. His style of fucking was so different, it was like I was doing it for the first time.
Soon, he began pounding me, and I began to breathe heavily. I couldn’t believe the way I was feeling; this was so hot, he wasn’t the largest I had had, but the way he moved and the rhythm he kept as he penetrated me made it all feel anew and special.
I looked into the mirror at the young Venezuelan king and wondered how I had come to be in his acquaintance.
We maintained a steady horny rhythm of fucking, his pace never faltering, the hot dick moving in and out of me, the whole cock being thrusted into my hole again every time he pulled out. I focused on my breathing and kept count of the rhythm as my breath started to sync with how he moved in and out of me.
We kept this up for about 20 minutes, him holding my shoulders, grabbing me by the neck and even my ears, abusing my body and showing me I was his for the time being. I never felt so good being slapped around, being treated like a slutty piece of meat for his enjoyment.
We never changed positions. Cool Kid kept pulling himself in and out. He would speed up and begin to sweat, and then slow down and catch his breath, but only for a moment.
Soon, he told me he was about to cum, and I told him to go ahead. I wanted him to cum hard, so hard his hot jizz would shoot even through the condom, and I could pretend to feel what it would be like for him to coat my insides with his juice.
He groaned loudly as I felt his thrust pace change, thrusting even more slowly until he couldn’t trust anymore, and he came to a stop.
He pulled out, and the condom was filled with his hot cum. He looked at me and saw I was in a trance, looking at him. A sly smile crossed his face, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. He took off the condom, threw it in the toilet and dried himself off with a towel. He put on his underwear, pulled up his pants, but didn’t button them. I reached over for his 50 soles and gave them to him. Then, he was gone, leaving an empty hotel room already quite dark, but now even darker without his presence. It felt like a light went out as I allowed myself to lie naked on the bed.
The image of him counting his money with his shirt off and his pants unbuttoned and his cock bulging out of his underwear will live in my mind forever. It’s an image burned into my retinas, my soul; an image I try to see when I close my eyes and I am ready to jerk off alone. Or, when I want to remember that beautiful imagery can exist even in the most perverse of scenarios.
