There's a gang of youths that hangs round our neighborhood. I live on street level so get to see quite a lot of them. They're mostly between fourteen and seventeen although some of them are a little bit older. Elderly ladies are mugged, car radios or even cars go missing and white walls are sprayed with paint and graffiti. As usual the cops do precious little to protect us and we all have to look out for ourselves.

Lately I've been having erotic fantasies about one of the guys. He must be about nineteen and the rest of the gang obviously look up to him. He always wears a tight tank top and voluminous pants and the muscles fairly ripple through everything. He has a Latino chiselled face and wears a red bandana. Don't they all you might say but he's got something going for him that really turns me on. The way he insinuates himself down the street has me heaving my breath and sends icicles of lust all through my body. You know that cold, fearful fourteen-year-old feeling you get when you see your first hot hunk and your dick yearns for action. Trouble is he's never alone and even if I was foolhardy enough to single him out one day I know full well I'd be asking for whatever I got. But I'm sure it would be worth it.

The other night I had a dream about him. I caught him spraying paint over my neighbor's car and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. He looked at me menacingly and told me to mind my own business. I backed off through my open front door. He followed me in before I could shut it. His eyes never left mine and seemed to be challenging me. I felt like a rat in my own cage. Home was no longer a haven but a trap. Now I had him in I couldn't wait to get him out. I thought of all the things I couldn't bear to lose and cursed myself for getting myself into this hairy situation.

"Please don't hurt me," I said pathetically, "I'll give you whatever you want."

"Maybe I can give you something you want," he said. "I've seen you looking at me."

He moved towards me and I soon found that what I'd taken to be a gun in his pocket turned out to be just as hard but much hotter. He rubbed his groin against me and licked my neck. Pretty gross and you might say pretty unlikely but please remember that this was a dream. So was the button popping as he tore open my shirt and pinched my nipples.He rubbed himself even harder against me and then backed off so I could better appreciate the enormous bulge growing in his workout pants.

"Why don't you grab hold of it and make it even bigger?" he said rubbing his dick as he spoke.

I didn't need a second invitation and wrapped my hand round it. It sure was big and didn't really fit inside my fist. My mind began to fastforward and I wondered how it would ever fit inside my ass.

"You wanna see it?" he said, slowly undoing the strings of his pants. Did I just. He let his pants sag. He wasn't wearing underwear so, to my joy, I first saw a forest of pubic hair. I've always liked men who are men. Sometimes the rougher the better. In the past I've had quite a few hot and horny flings with gardeners and workmen and other members of 'the rough trade' and get really turned on by the abundance of hair on their chests and the rest of their bodies. Unfortunately nowadays it seems that all the guys with great bodies who work out in gyms and training centers tend to shave themselves. It's a real dick-downer for me.

"Come over here and check it out," he said. "I'll let you go nose diving by yourself."

I did as I was told and knelt down to worship whatever icon of flesh came out of his pants. "Get your lips round that," he said as his powerful Phoenix rose before my astonished eyes.

I did my best to accommodate him but it was a long time since I'd had such a mouthful and for a while I was painfully inadequate and had to put up with his derision. But then my jaw began to loosen up and soon he was making my jowls jive.

"That's it baby," he crooned contendedly, "Suck that fucker good."

To give myself some leverage and support I dragged down his pants and grabbed hold of his butt. That was a trip and a half. He had the best butt I'd ever managed to get my hands on. I could only imagine what it looked like. He pushed and I shoved and between us we creamed his dick real good. I must say I gagged a bit, especially when he filled my throat with his hot jizz but I swallowed it all down like a man.

"That was wild man," he said. "I can't wait to get inside your ass."

Flashforward and I woke with a start as his huge dick penetrated me and I felt his pubic hairbrush scraping my buttocks. I relived the whole dream and jerked off as I'd never jerked off before.

A few weeks went by and one July morning my doorbell rang. As I told you I live on street level. I've got a 'two up and two down' little house in the oldest part of Boston. There's a garden out back too. It's a bit like living in England. Anyway Jose Luis was standing there. Yes, that's his name. Jose Luis. My mother always used to say be careful what you wish for as dreams often have a habit of coming true. But not always in the way you expect. And there was my dream come true standing right there on my doorstep.

"Want any odd jobs done?" he asked.

It turned out that he'd been apprehended breaking into a car and as it was ostensibly a first offence he'd been put on probation and told to do community work.

"I'm not exactly an old-age pensioner," I said. "Shouldn't you be helping old ladies across the road?"

"But you're gay though, aren't you?" he said. "Thought you might like a nice lad like me about the house."

What could I say? He'd hit the nail on the head and been direct and honest about it whereas all these months I'd been devouring him with my eyes and hadn't had the courage of my convictions.

"Well there's quite a bit of gardening you could do," I said inviting him in. "And of course I'd pay you something for it."

"Great," he said and took off his shirt and got down to work.

Once again I felt I was in a dream as he lifted his shirt over his head and my eyes had a quick tour of his torso. He was firmly built with muscles in all the right places. There wasn't a hair on his chest but that didn't bother me. Besides there was a crabline from his navel to the top of his pants which promised hairy things to come. He was lithe and he was beautiful and he was in my back garden. And in my life. I played it cool at first but it wasn't long before he was asking me to scrub his back in the shower. And then one thing led to another and he was 'scrubbing' my backside in bed.

Actually my dream hadn't been too far from the truth and he was pretty hairy beneath the balls and down his legs so I did get quite a scrubbing. He gave me the usual spiel about being a straight Latin stud and into girls but said that he wanted to 'please me.' I'm sure he pleased himself too because he put nineteen years of energy into busting my butt and pretty well reduced it to butter. His dick wasn't quite so big and unmanageable as the one in my dream but pretty huge just the same. He loved to have it sucked too, as a preliminary, but wasn't really into sucking me. Still he was a good kisser and always left me completely satisfied. However, he absolutely wouldn't let me fuck him. No way. The rabid wolf in me huffed and it puffed but just couldn't blow his butt down.

"I'm no fag," he said. "I like chicks."

Obviously fucking me two or three times a week and going apeshit everytime I sucked his dick didn't count. But he drew the line at being fucked. To console me he said there was one guy in his gang who liked 'taking it up the ass' and suggested bringing him over one night. I knew then that our relationship was no secret from the rest of the gang although he probably downplayed what we actually did together and told them that he just let me suck him off. By now of course I'd grown rather attached to him and didn't want anybody else in my life. Or in my ass.

Away from the rest of the gang he wasn't half as rough, or as tough, as he made out so I thought there were definite possibilities if I persevered. I knew from experience that you can't tell a book from the cover and that oftentimes guys who seem as straight as an arrow have a whole chasm of untold and untried passions seething under their conservative surface. Especially in Boston where I was born and bred. My ex-Sunday school teacher being one of them. Prim, proper and Puritan, I met him at an international business convention and we ended up in the same hotel and eventually in the same bed. He padded along to my room in the middle of the night to 'talk about old times' and I fucked the fucking ass off him and had him chanting 'Onward Christian Soldiers' all through the night. In fact he's the hottest fuck I've ever had.

Still I haven't had much experience with Latinos although I'm told that their macho pride shuts the door on a lot of potential openings. I wanted to show Jose Luis what he was missing and of course, like us all, I wanted to be the first to do so. One evening he must have had a row with his girl friend and was a little drunk. That night he let me lick his ass a little but I didn't get any further than that. Another time he let me insert a furtive finger up there but soon told me to 'cut it out.' In fact, sad to tell, he wasn't at all interested in my dick, only what I could do to his before he shoved it up my ass and had me chewing the bed linen.

Also I forgot to tell you that he never actually stayed over so I couldn't even creep up on him when he was asleep. Such was life until one rainy December's night he took refuge in my bed. Seems he'd had a narrow escape and the police were on his tail. He wouldn't tell me what he'd done but was scared shitless. Said he'd even let me fuck him if I gave him an alibi. He was wet through and shivering like a leaf. I put him under a hot shower, wrapped him in a blanket and gave him some hot chocolate.

"Nobody's ever looked after me like you do," he said later, nuzzling up against me in bed.

Much as I wanted to take him up on his offer and finally fuck him, I also wanted to know what he'd done. It seems some drug dealer had got killed in a struggle with his gang. He swore to me he was just an innocent bystander and I believed him. He sobbed halfway through the night and I did my best to comfort him. Eventually he fell asleep in my arms.

"Don't make me go out there again," he said. "I want to stay here with you." This sounded just like a line out of 'When Harry Met Sally' but it made me feel warm and protective and not a bit like taking advantage of him.

Next day the street and the newspapers were full of what had happened. Several boys were taken in for questioning but, as they were mostly under age, there wasn't much the police could do. A fifteen year old eventually confessed to the killing which he said was an accident and the whole thing blew over and was soon yesterday's history. Still the experience had really frightened poor Jose Luis and taught him something of a lesson. As I said before he was full of bravado but not really bad. He did everything he could to thank me and asked me once again if he could stay with me.

"Of course you can," I said. Then added, "And with no strings attached."

Even so it was difficult to resist him once we were sleeping in the same bed night after night. We usually slept in the spoon position. I wrapped my arms around his perfect pecs and tucked my dick into his butt folds. He told me it was like having two dicks. One in front and one behind. I told him he should be so lucky. Inevitably he started talking to me about the wonders of the clitoris and how he missed his girl friend. I told him he had a clitoris of his own. 'No way,' he said incredulous but interested. I told him about his love button and how my tongue could make it tingle. By now my sexual motor was chugging over, fine-tuned and purring, and dying to make a pit stop at his male pussy but I wanted the initiative to come from him.

'Show me.' he said some nights later, curiosity having got the cat. Or pussy.

"You'll have to trust me," I said.

"I trust you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

I started on his dick and scrotum, licking away his resistance. Then I worked my tongue slowly towards his love hole, using it as a fuck-feather. He moaned and groaned and pushed me away and then, seconds later, thrust his butt forward for more of the same. I got him in a kneeling position with his butt raised like a cat in heat. Which by now he was. I inserted the tip of my tongue and his tight little rosebud began to unfold amid more groans and moans. I was so tempted to stop for a moment and say 'I told you so,' but instead I persisted with my labial penetration. I worked one hand round to the front of him to fist-fuck him to a frenzy and distract him from the inevitable which was my huge mushroom head oozing its way in. I was secreting so much pre-cum in my excitement that it was an easy passage. He was so turned on by now. Naturally he screamed and kicked like an unbroken stallion but that only pushed me further inside him so he was soon foaming at the mouth and butt simultaneously. I felt such a sense of power and fulfillment. My wildest dreams really were coming true. Curses came out of him both in English and Spanish but that only turned me on even more. I put twenty-nine years of energy and experience into giving him the butt fuck of a lifetime. At the end of it all he nearly licked my hand with joy and gratitude and never spoke to me of the wonders of the clitoris again.

My friends couldn't understand my fascination for Jose Luis at all and said he was 'beneath me' but that's just where I wanted him to be as I regularly fucked him to a slow boil and then built up speed till his nuts burst and he shot his load clear across the room. He was a veritable jet stream. I've never seen so much jizz come out of one person. And it kept on coming too. And you never knew where it was going to land either. Soon we were doing our serious fucking in the bathroom. Besides being more hygienic it was a real turn on as we watched ourselves in the wall to wall mirror. I'd draw my dick in and out of his ass and drive him wild. He told me he was seeing a part of himself he never thought he'd see. Then he'd come all over the mirror and there'd be nothing left to see.

Life is good. There isn't a weed left in the garden and it's positively blooming. And so am I. And as Jose Luis said the day he arrived and entered my life -- and ass -- it's really great to have a nice lad like him around the house. Intellectually we don't really have a lot in common but I get all that from other sources. We've been together for over six months now. I don't know how long it will last or how long he will stay. But I've decided that like Scarlett O' Hara, I'll think about that tomorrow. Meanwhile I'm taking it one fuck at a time.