The base where my dad was stationed was on the outskirts of a Southwestern city heavily influenced by border culture. We lived in off-post civilian housing several miles from the base.
There was some sort of special event brewing and I was supposed to ride a city bus to a military checkpoint where I would show my dependent's identification and catch an Air Force bus to my dad's building. The AF ride was free, but I would need around 50 cents for the civilian bus.
So..... being the sneaky type of kid that I was, as soon as my parents left me home alone I scraped together all the coins I could find, went to a nearby store, and bought a Mad magazine to enjoy. My parents disapproved of Mad and I was under orders not to read it. Only after pulling off that little job did I realize that in buying the magazine I'd also spent all the bus fare.
My mother was at work. My dad was training airmen or something. I had to get out of this jam by myself. So I did what came naturally: Hid the magazine, got an early start and set off walking across a portion of a good size city. I've driven the route many times over the years and can tell you that it was about seven miles from the house to the checkpoint. I'd never walked that distance before, but what the hell - when you've gotta deal with your own stupidity you just go ahead and do what you must.
The route was familiar and I knew what to expect. The neighborhoods and people changed along the way, taking me straight through an area where English was not the first language and white was not the prevalent skin color.
Around halfway to the base I developed a need to piss. None of the businesses looked inviting. Most of them were bars or auto repair or used-tire shops.
Ahead was a large building. Coming closer I saw that it was a church. A big church, a very big one. The sign seemed to be in Spanish and I was pretty sure the church was Catholic, which was foreign territory to a Pentecostal kid. On a big lawn next to the church a bunch of brown-skinned boys played soccer. They were watched by a nun in a navy-blue dress and a funky headgear with white trimming.
I walked up to the nun, apologized for bothering her, and asked if I could use the church's restroom. She looked me up and down. I knew I was a strange sight in her neighborhood, a gringo in a Latino neighborhood, but I thought there was a chance she would say yes if I was polite enough.
She wanted to know where I was from. I told her my dad was stationed at the base. After thinking it over, she called to one of the boys. The guy came jogging over and she told me, "This is Miguel." Then turning to Miguel she said, "Show this young man to the restroom in the rectory."
I was so naive, I thought the word "rectory" had something to do with a person's rectum. We walked to a building across the street and Miguel held a door open for me. We entered together. I went to one urinal and he took the other one. We had pee'd for only a few seconds when Miguel, who had been completely quiet so far, sort of laughed and said, "I never pissed with an anglo before."
We kept standing at our urinals and after a moment Miguel spoke again, softer and more hesitant: "Are anglo peenies big?"
"Not too big," I told him, surprised at what was happening but feeling a bit of a boner coming on. "Sometimes, you know, it gets..."
"Ooh," Miguel said. Then he backed up a little and asked if I ever saw a Mexican peenie. He added that I could look at his if I wanted to.
I think that was the end of the conversation. Both of us were already playing with ourselves. Miguel turned toward me and displayed an impressive boner. Then the barriers really fell and we began feeling each other. Within seconds Miguel was jiggling his hand back and forth on my stiffie and I was doing the same for him. I wish we had prolonged the action, but hardly a minute had gone by before I felt the sensations climb toward a peak. I whispered to Miguel that I was gonna cum. He let go of me and for a moment we stood facing each other, our hands pumping back and forth as if we'd been doing this together all our lives. I soon cimaxed, aiming my splats of cum into the urinal. Miguel was going for broke at the same time, pumping faster until he caught his own orgasm. Miguel squirted, squirted again, and squirted once more, making soft noises with every shot.
Then we were standing there looking at each other, me thinking "What the hell just happened?"
We left the restroom and headed back to the soccer game, both of us pretending to be total angels. I told the nun thanks. She said, "You'd better hurry on. This neighborhood can be dangerous." My thought as I walked away from the soccer field was something like this: "well, lady, I've sampled your neighborhood, and didn't find it dangerous at all."
Thunder Cloud
All of us have likely had an anonymous encounter. We have a sixth sense that tells us some people are safe and some are dangerous. These boys judged each other safe and did a perfectly normal thing.
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