It was a Sunday morning in May. I’ll never forget it. It’s one of those events that become glued to memory, engraved as it were on one’s cerebrum, for life. I and Hector had had a night out partying with some of Hector’s saner relatives. As usual, Hector had had a bit too much to drink and was completely wasted. With some help from Hector’s X wife’s gay cousin, I managed to drag Hector into the house. Together, me and Alfonso laid Hector across the bed. "Thanks, " I said to Alfonso. "No problema, man. Anybody who can put up wit Hector is one tough ass son-of-bitch." Alfonso, LAUGHS, leaves what’s left of a bottle of rum Hector was drinking on top of the dresser and exits. I follow him to the door and locks it. I wasn’t entirely sober myself that morning; I’d put down at least a quart of beer and my fair share, too, of Hector’s favorite rum. I went back into the bedroom and looked at Hector, gorgeous as ever, laid across the kingsize bed with his huge pinga bulging up through his pants. I wobbled over to where Alfonso had set the bottle of rum, on top of the dresser, sat on the edge of the bed and decided to take one last swig before embarking on the ordeal of getting Hector undressed. It was a ritual by now. I’d learned all the tricks of what comes off first, then second and so on. If you didn’t do it just right, he’d toss and turn and kick like crazy.
The task, was, to say the least, daunting. I screwed the top off the rum and took a big swallow. Screwed the top back on and looked over at Hector. By now he was SNORING like Yogi The Bear. "Whewwwww!!!" I heard myself exclaim. "Dis ain’t gonna be easy." Hector was wearin’ his favorite jeans that swung low on his hips, a cute see-through knit tank top and his favorite boxer shorts made like a flag of Puerto Rico, fashionably sticking out. His socks, too, were patterned after the flag of Puerto Rico. Maybe it’s because I’d been drinking too much, but seein’ Hector’s socks made me a little teary-eyed. I’d bought them for him myself, you see, for his birthday. As I sat, misty-eyed, from out of nowhere, Hector’s other foot SWOOSHES around and barely misses my nose, by an inch. I glared at Hector, asleep, then at his steel tipped construction shoes. They would be the first items of clothing to be removed. No doubt. If he rolled over again, unexpectedly, and caught me in the…Well you get the picture.

After removing Hector’s shoes, I eases his socks off, first one, then the other. So far, so good. Woozy from the rum, I stammer up and come around to the other side of the bed. As if cued, Hector rolls over on his side towards the dresser and away from me. "Dammit," I say, aloud. As I reaches and pulls Hector back onto his back, his boner catapults straight up in his blue jeans, commanding my undivided attention. "Ohhhhhhhh," I drool. I lick my lips and starts to go for it, but pulls up. "Now is not the time," I think to myself. "Just get his clothes off and go to bed. Later on, I’ll give him a real tongue-lashing." With this thought I move up towards Hector’s face. "Thank you, Jesus," I hear myself say as I look down on his shimmering black curly hair, his sensuous, full, Puerto Rican lips, his goatee, worked into a braid. I want to kiss Hector and make love to him. As I ponder doing this, Hector’s right arm swings around and lands square on my butt. Even asleep, he knows exactly what to do. "No," I say again to myself. "He’s asleep. It wouldn’t be fair." I reaches now and carefully pulls Hector’s knit tank top over his head, revealing the tightest six-pack you’d ever imagine. Hector’s arms extend back and the hairy down on his massive chest invites me to stroke it, to work my fingers through it, to lay my head down on his chest and listen to his heart beat as I often do when Hector is awake. Instead, I removes the tank top and lays it on the armchair at the head of the bed. Again, my motion stirs Hector and he rolls onto his side. When I go to pull him back over, he suddenly catches me in a headlock. His bulbous muscles trap my head and holds me firmly at his chest. As I wiggle and squirm trying to free myself from Hector’s fierce headlock, one of his legs, slides under and between my thighs and whips around. I am now locked in a vicious wrestler’s hold. My face is being held down at Hector’s chest and my ass is sticking straight up, locked in mid-air by Hector’s massive thighs. The more I wiggled and squirmed, the tighter Hector’s grip got. Somehow I manages to turn my head around. I find myself looking square into Hector’s hairy armpit. I stretch and stretch and stretch my neck until my face and Hector’s right underarm make contact. Then I reaches my mouth forward and tongues his hairy armpit. Immediately, Hector releases me and rolls back flat on his back. Tired and boozed out of my gourd, I EXHALES, gets up and sits back on the edge of the bed. I quickly removes all of my clothes except my jocks and pulls the covers from under Hector’s body. I climbs in and reaches for his belt buckle. No motion. Hector doesn’t move. I work the belt off and unbuttons the low-hanging jeans. Hector’s massive tool is standing at absolute attention. Very slowly, I zips the zipper of Hector’s jeans up, up, up the steep incline of his cock, over the cock-head and down, down, down the other side of the shaft. Carefully, I start wiggling his jeans from around his hips, first one buttock, then the other. At last, the jeans are free…free at last. I pull them down the length of Hector’s hairy legs and folds them. I lay the jeans on the armchair on top of his knit tank top and pulls the covers over both of us. As I slowly dozes off to sleep, I feel something huge, something massive, slide inexorably past the butt-strap of my jocks and penetrate my man-hole. It goes in deeper and deeper and deeper, then, suddenly, stops and lodges itself there.

"Whewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" I hear myself moan. Baby is asleep.

The End

So, fellow LFC fans, one and all, here is my Blog Question:

How far is "too far", when your partner is inebriated and asleep?

That is my Blog Question for you. After reading the passage,

simply e-mail your response to: latinofans@aol.com.

Write "Hector’s Crib" in the subject line.

Let me and everyone else in on your insight.

Peace.

"J"

Here I cum, again…Yo

…FLIPPIN N’ FLOPPIN you like a pancake. And over you go, bottom-to-top, as I take up where I left off, scoooooooots all the way up to your Nubian lips, your sensuous Angel-esque lips, puckering up, your tongue dangling like a lap dog, salivating for me, wanting to taste my nutts, my shaft, my uncut cock. You take my nutts in your mouth one-at-a-time. Rolls your hot tongue all over them, sucking them gently, caressing them, mouthing them with your Nubian lips. I MOAN in ecstasy, unable to control the fire raging inside my loins. The wetness of your mouth excites me. Drives me mad. Makes me heave and flail. Then, slowly, you inch up with your long, wet tongue, up along the shaft of my cock towards the tip. You commence massaging my cock the same as I massaged your delectable, tall-boy butt. You kiss my pinga. You lick it. You work up to the head, finally cumming to your destination, you wrap the whole of your Nubian mouth around my throbbing cock-head, swallows the whole enchilada. OHHHHHHHHH, SHYT, I hear myself say. "That’s the ticket!" "That’s the fuckin’ ticket!" Then…as you suck my bicho, I reach behind me. I work one hand between your legs. I finger below your nutts. I feel my way to the hole. That beautiful, delicious hole. With one finger I explore it. Penetrate it. Stretch it wide as it will go. As you continue to suck my cock, I hear you MOAN. Your breath comes quick. Your entire body heaves and undulates beneath me. Then it happens. You careen back. You expose your family jewels, all spread open like a welcome mat. I slams my cock inside you. You MOAN away your blues, half in pain, half in pleasure. As I dig for gold, sinking deeper and deeper inside you…

…your blues become a long-ago distant memory.

"J"