I stumbled upon Juan at the seedy porn shop on Caracas’s Avenida Bolívar, his chiseled abs flexing as he expertly wielded a flesh-colored dildo behind the counter. His piercing brown eyes locked onto mine, and I felt my cock stir in my tight-fitting jeans.
“Gay porn? You’re looking for gay porn?” Juan asked, a sly grin spreading across his tanned face as he gestured to the rows of DVDs stacked haphazardly around us. “Follow me, amigo.”
He led me to a cramped back room, where a single, flickering light bulb cast an eerie glow on the makeshift setting. A plush, crimson couch dominated the space, and I could already imagine the raw, unbridled sex that would soon unfold upon it.
Juan’s fingers deftly undid my belt buckle, releasing my swollen dick from its confines. His warm, wet mouth enveloped me in a velvety blowjob, the suction sending shivers coursing up my spine as he worked his magic.
I watched, mesmerized, as Juan’s firm, uncut cock bobbed with each eager suck of my penis. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and desire, and I felt myself becoming one with the primal energy in that cramped, dimly lit room.
As we fucked on the couch, our bodies entwined like two halves of a single, erotic whole, I knew this chance encounter would leave an indelible mark – both physically and emotionally – on my cock, my heart, and my soul.
