Straight Tequila Pt. 02

He was silent a second. Then he grinned slightly and said, "Who knows. He could have been sucking my dick for all I know."

I didn't say anything, and Carlos continued. "So, if Beto gave me a blow job, I hope it was good. Because I don't remember shit."

I was surprised when Carlos said that. Would he really have not cared if another guy went down on him? That was something I had never heard before.

"Really? You wouldn't have cared if he sucked you off?"

Carlos raised his eyebrows and said, "It's not a matter of caring. If it happened, I was too fucked up to have stopped it. So why worry about something you can't control?"

He paused a moment, and then smiling, said, "But I'm not worried. I don't think Beto is into cock. He's a pussy hound."

Cautiously I asked, "Do you remember Beto driving you here?"

Carlos looked surprised.

"He did?" I nodded. "Well, that was nice of him. I think he wanted me to stay. But I told him I had to go home. I knew you would get pissed at me if I stayed out."

He grinned a little more, shook his head, and said, "But no, I don't remember how I got here. The last things I can really remember were closing my eyes and Beto pushing a shot glass to my lips."

Yeah, I thought. Getting you so drunk so that he could get his cock in your tight hole and fuck you for hours.

Carlos obviously had no idea that Beto had been trying to fuck him for a long time. And that all that bullshit from last night was just another ploy for him to spread Carlos's legs so he could plow his muscle ass.

Carlos must have noticed me thinking and asked, "Why do you ask? I mean, I know you're probably pissed because I got drunk," he said sheepishly.

He got up from the recliner and stood in front of me. "But I got home okay."

I stood up as well, thinking about Beto's treachery and said, "I know, Carlos. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

Carlos leaned forward and grabbed me in a bear hug.

"I know, Ian. But I told you. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

As he held me in the hug, I felt the strength of his strong arms. And the bulge of his cock pressing into me. My cock started to expand, and I knew it wouldn't be long before Carlos could tell I was getting hard. I knew I needed to break the hug but being in his arms felt so good. And having his cock rub on me felt even better.

He held me there a moment longer, and then pushed back, saying, "And thanks for calling in for me this morning. They'd have been fucking mad if I hadn't showed up without calling in."

With that, he turned and slowly headed towards his bathroom. My eyes following his full, tight ass every step of the way.

I guess I should have told him what really happened last night. It was the right thing to do.

But still, I hesitated.

On one hand, I knew that Beto would find a way to get Carlos alone again. After all, they were friends, and worked at the same place.

And Beto was ruthless. Carlos was just too tempting a prize for him to give up now. Especially since he'd come so close to fucking him last night.

So, I knew the next time Carlos got drunk and was alone with Beto, he was gonna get fucked. Beto would stop at nothing until he was fucking that tight, virgin ass hard and deep. He'd force more and more tequila down Carlos's throat until he passed out. Then strip him and triumphantly take the ass he wanted for so long. And fuck that hot, sexy ass without Carlos even knowing.

I had no doubt that once Beto had tasted the forbidden fruit of that straight, muscular ass, he'd want to fuck it again. And when he realized he could do it AND get away with it, he'd fuck it again . . . and again . . . and again.

Beto knew that tequila was the key to getting him in Carlos's hot hole. As long as he could continue unlocking that tight ass, he'd keep fucking it. All he had to do was keep getting Carlos totally drunk . . . totally wasted . . . and then fuck the hell out of him. As often as he wanted.

And if Beto was telling the truth, Hector, Andres, and others would be after him as well.

Getting him drunk.

Totally wasted.

And on his back.

Then, all they had to do was strip that muscular body, drape his legs over their shoulders, and slide their cocks into that tight ass for one sweet, sweet fuck.

On the other hand, Carlos himself said he was a 'big boy' and that he could take care of himself. After all, he was trying to get back with Rosa and the boys. If he did, he'd probably not be running around with Beto and his friends again anyway and the danger would be averted.

So, why was it my responsibility to remind him of what he already knew so well? Namely that he put himself at risk when he got drunk. If he chose not to think about the risks he took when that happened, it wasn't my responsibility to keep pointing it out.

Then again, given the pain of what he was going through, I guess I could understand why he tended to ignore the risks. Drinking dulled the pain for him. It was his way of escape.

So, I kept quiet.

And, as usually happens, things returned to normal after a while. I must admit, Carlos still wandered around the house in next to nothing, and just looking at him would get my cock to stirring. But I finally came to enjoy looking at his hot muscular physique, even though the glances were done surreptitiously so that Carlos didn't catch me looking.

Little did I know that my looks weren't as concealed as I thought. And that Carlos saw a lot more than I ever knew.

###

After two months, things became pretty routine. I noticed that Carlos's personality at times was becoming more reserved and sullen. He continued to go out, drink, and come home drunk. But not nearly as drunk as he did that night over at Beto's.

I do know that he started doing his drinking at bars and with more of his friends. I'm sure Beto was in his group of friends when they went out, but Carlos never mentioned going over to his house. I thought it possible that, even though he didn't remember too much about that night, he got weirded out about Beto fondling him. We didn't talk about that night again, although he joked from time to time about whether I tried to catch him in his underwear the next morning.

He did mention that Beto had invited him over a couple of times. But he said that every time Beto asked, he was already meeting his friends elsewhere. That made me feel somewhat better, knowing that that shark Beto wasn't going to find Carlos as easy a mark as he thought.

Carlos also shared with me his encounters with Rosa at their meetings with the counselor. It was obvious, from what he said, that he and Rosa had some irreconcilable issues between them. So, I questioned whether they'd be able to put their marriage back together. I only wanted both to be happy and move on with their lives. Especially Carlos.

But I knew there was one issue that continued to tear Carlos up.

His boys.

Rosa knew many of Carlos's friends and knew he was still going out drinking. More and more she was refusing to let Carlos see them, although their divorce decree allowed regular visitation. He said that she told him at their last meeting with the counselor that she was going to go back to court and eliminate the visitation if he continued down his path of drunkenness and irresponsibility.

He was very angry about that and said he'd fight her all the way in court to prevent her from stopping him from seeing them again. When he would get reserved around me, I didn't bother him, because I knew it had something to do with that.

So, all I could do was be there for him when he needed a friendly ear, or shoulder, or as it turns out, a friendly pair of hands.

###

One Friday night, I stayed up in the living room watching one of my favorite movies. About midnight, the door opened, and Carlos walked in. He was wearing a tight sports shirt and jeans. As always, his clothes hugged his muscular body and his sexiness was on full display. I was surprised, because he never came in this early on a weekend night.

"What the hell are you doing back so early?" I asked in an astonished voice.

Carlos gave me a lopsided grin and said, "Fuck you. You act as if I whore around all the time."

I laughed and said, "No, I don't think that. It's just I don't remember the last time you were in so early. Especially on a Friday night."

Carlos was swaying as he walked further in the living room. I knew then that he'd had way too much to drink. I just hoped he wasn't about to pass out.

As the grin slowly left his face, he said, "Yeah, wellllll . . . I just wanted to be by myself for a while."

I smiled and said, "I hearya. I can go in my bedroom if you want to watch TV in here."

Carlos looked at me quietly for a minute.

"No, that's alright. You stay here." He hesitated for a few seconds and then said, "Actually . . . I was wondering . . . if you'd do me a favor."

Laughing, I said, "Now, mano, don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

"No. I don't want a drink. That's not the favor."

His voice had a wistful, serious note in it and I knew immediately that something was different.

"Okay. What do you want?"

Carlos continued to look at me. After a few moments, that old mischievous grin started to appear on his lips and that glint I knew so well came in his eyes.

I was totally confused by this see-saw between his somber countenance and his old playfulness. He kept looking at me like he always did when he wanted to talk some smack to me.

After a few more moments, he said, "I was wondering if you would, uhhhh . . . be willing to give me . . ." He stopped.

I raised my eyebrows and said, "Yes? Give you what?

Carlos looked down a moment, and then back up. He stuck his chin out, as if daring me to question his request.

"Give me a massage."

I was shocked.

"WHAT?"

Carlos grinned at me, and with that sexy lilt in his voice when he wants to put me down, said, "A massage. You DO know what a massage is . . . don't you?"

Still surprised by his request, I said, "Bitch, I know what a massage is. I was just wondering why you wanted me to give you one." With a smirk, I said, "I mean, you DO know that I'm not a massage therapist . . . don't you?"

Carlos burped and then his drunken laugh boomed out.

"Yeah, I know. And I don't expect perfection. Especially from YOU."

He continued his drunken laughter a few moments more, and then looked serious again.

"I know it sounds strange but . . . I'm stressed out and I need to . . . relax."

He paused a moment.

"I just want to be . . . home."

He paused again, and then softly added, "With you."

Whoa!

Did Carlos really just say the words 'with you'? Did he really want to be here right now . . . with me?

It took me a minute to try to sift through all my thoughts. Carlos just stood there looking at me, swaying slightly. All sorts of things came together in my mind, didn't quite connect, and then broke apart again. He wanted to be by himself. He wanted a massage. He wanted me to do it. He wanted to be "home". With me.

I couldn't make sense out of the swirl and after a few moments, stopped trying. Carlos was still quiet and just looked at me, although he'd close his eyes from time to time.

Finally, I shrugged my shoulders and answered him.

"Yeah. Sure. I guess. As long as you know I don't really know what I'm doing."

A broad smile broke out over Carlos's face. God, he was so fucking handsome when he smiled!

He nodded and said, "Sure, I know. I just . . . appreciate you trying."

"Okay then." My hand pointed to the floor, and I said, "You want to lay down here?"

Carlos paused. "Nahhh . . . let's do it in your bedroom."

I was shocked again.

"MY bedroom? Why there?"

Carlos gave a slight laugh, hiccupped, and said, "Because you've got a firm king size bed, puta. Isn't that what you told me? I've only got a full-size bed in my room and the mattress is soft."

With a glint in his eyes, he added, "So yours is bigger. And it's better."

I still felt a little strange doing this in my room. Plus, with all the innuendos that Carlos seemed to be tossing out, I was getting very nervous. The last thing I wanted was to spring a boner in front of him while I was touching his body.

"I still don't see what's wrong with the floor here. It's bigger and harder than my mattress," I volunteered.

Carlos moved closer to me and I could smell the tequila on his breath. He looked down a moment, and then back up at me.

"I don't WANT to be on the floor, mano."

"I could spread out a sheet and . . ."

"I don't WANT to lie on a sheet."

He moved even closer and stood face to face in front of me.

"I want to lie on your bed."

As I looked in those beautiful brown eyes of his, I felt like I was sinking. My heart was beating rapidly, and my throat was dry as hell.

Even though he was drunk and was smiling at times, I could feel the pain that radiated from his being and knew that Carlos needed someone to help him with his pain. I wanted to take him in my arms right there and kiss him so hard that he'd know, despite everything that had happened in his life, he was not alone.

This was not the 15-year-old boy I'd met so long ago. This was a strong, sexy, virile man with the body of a god and a heart that was hurting.

I reached up and gently patted his shoulder.

"Okay, Carlos. We'll do it on my bed."

I turned towards the hall to my bedroom, walked a few feet, and then stopped when I realized he wasn't with me.

When I turned around, he was still standing there, a blank look on his face.

Maybe he was having second thoughts. Maybe he was so drunk he wasn't sure what he was doing. Maybe he had changed his mind.

Whatever the case, I walked back over and reached out my hand to him. He kept looking at me for a few moments, then looked down at my outstretched hand. Slowly, he looked back up at me and, with that beautiful smile I adored, took my hand.

###

Quietly and carefully, we walked towards my bedroom. Carlos was swaying quite a bit and stumbled a few times as we walked. I reached out to steady him and kept my hand on his upper back, enjoying the feel of his firm muscles.

As we reached the door of my bedroom, Carlos paused and started falling backwards. I rushed behind him and put both hands on the sides of his back to prop him up. He body was heavy, and I had to struggle to keep him from falling. Eventually he started going forward again and my hands guided him through the door.

As he walked in the room, I moved him towards the bed. He sat down heavily on the edge of it.

"Now sit there a minute and don't move," I said. "You're too heavy for me to pick up off the floor."

Carlos gave a weak grin and I was hoping he wouldn't fall off the bed. I was telling the truth when I said I wouldn't be able to pick him up.

I turned off the bedroom light and turned down the brightness of the lamps on my end tables. This gave the room a soft glow to it, which I thought would be more relaxing.

I turned back around to Carlos and said, "Now you're sure you still want me to do this?"

Carlos gave a feeble laugh, closed his eyes, and said, "Yeah. Sure. Go ahead."

"Okay. I'll start on your back. Move over and lie down on your stomach."

Carlos didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, he murmured, "Help me take my shirt off."

I didn't say anything at first. Did I really want to start things down that path, feeling like I did for Carlos?

Carlos just sat there. Quiet. Eyes closed. Waiting.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked at me. "What's the matter?"

Slowly, I said, "Nothing. I'm just not used to . . . taking your clothes off."

Carlos closed his eyes again.

"Oh hell, Ian. It's just my shirt. You've seen me in a lot less."

He paused a moment. When I didn't say anything, he said, "Quit being such a pendejo."

When I still didn't move, he sounded irritated.

"Fine. If it bothers you that much, I'll do it myself," and he started swaying and fumbling for the buttons.

I was ruining the moment and felt bad that I was adding to his hurt. I leaned down and grabbed his arms.

"Okay, okay . . . wait a minute. Let me do it."

He stopped struggling, closed his eyes again, and let his arms fall back down on the bed.

As I unbuttoned the first button, I could feel his massive chest under my hands. I ignored the tingling I felt and moved down the row of buttons, undoing each one. As I got near his belt, I pulled up on the part that was tucked in his jeans and finished the last ones.

When the shirt was completely open, I started sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms. Which was easier said than done.

His biceps and triceps were so huge that the shirt sleeves were too narrow to just slide over them. I had to use both my hands to pull each sleeve down and over the muscles a little bit at a time. I finally managed to get them free and pulled the shirt off.

I'd seen Carlos shirtless before. But I had never been this close to him when he was.

Looking at his body this intimately was . . . breathtaking.

Broad shoulders, with knotted muscles, started at his neck and flowed down into his arms. His biceps and triceps, which had made taking off his shirt so difficult, bulged with shredded cords of muscle. His massive forearms were like two clustered ovals, which flexed when he closed his hands to steady himself on the bed.

And his chest. My god, it was a work of art!

Each of his pecs started from just below his neck and rose like twin plateaus, with a deep valley between the ridges of muscle. A dark brown, quarter size areola was in the center of each slab of muscle, capped by a pink nipple. I remembered seeing Beto suck on them the night he tried to fuck Carlos. They looked mouthwatering and I could certainly see why he did it.

As I continued looking at his nips, I suddenly trembled. All at once I felt an overwhelming urge to lean down and suck one into my mouth. It was hard, but I controlled my desire and gazed on down past his chest.

Defined ridges of abdominal muscle popped up from Carlos's flat belly. The intersection of the ridges combined to give him a tight washboard stomach. I started to reach out and run my fingers over the ridges, but quickly let my arm fall to the side. In my mind though, an image of running my tongue over each ridge of muscle appeared. The tingling feeling returned, and I straightened up and shook my head to stop it.

"Okay, Carlos, lie down on your stomach and I'll rub your back."

When Carlos opened his eyes, they had a bleary look. Even though I didn't know how much he had to drink earlier, it was obvious that he was pretty blitzed. He slowly looked up at me with unfocused eyes.

"What about my pants?"

God forbid!

Was he doing this on purpose? It was hard enough for me to take his shirt off and look at that fantastic chest of his. And now he wanted me to take his pants off?

There was no way I could do that without throwing a bone. And if Carlos saw that and thought I wanted his body, it would ruin our friendship. I had to put a stop to it. Now.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Carlos."

He paused several moments and then said, "Why? You're giving me a massage, aren't you?"

"Well . . . yeah. But . . . but . . ." I stopped.

How could I explain why I couldn't take his pants off without giving away my desire for him?

"And you took my shirt off. Aren't my pants supposed to be off too?"

"Well . . ." I paused a second.

"Yeah."

Carlos kept looking at me, but I was silent.

Finally, he said, "Look . . . I'd take them off myself, but I don't really feel so hot right now. So . . . please . . . help me."

I looked away from Carlos, silent, confused, and trying to figure out what to say.

"It's alright, Ian. I know."

Startled, I looked down at Carlos. He had sad smile on his face and his eyes were a little more focused and brighter.