Although I'm white I grew up in a predominantly Latino neighborhood back in the 70's. My neighbors were Mexican and Central American for the most part. Largely illegal, working the fields around our rural farm community in Central California.
All my friends from school were Latino and Marcos was my best friend. We were all dirt poor, so we spent a lot of our time walking around outside. Just goofing off exploring and playing games we'd make up on the spot. That's one thing poor kids had that didn't cost any money, imaginations.
One of our favorite places to play were the old Union Pacific railroad tracks. There were old warehouses next to the tracks and an old wooden shack the railroad people once used as an office of some sort. We kids converted it into a clubhouse by dragging an old mattress we'd found inside and using plastic milk crates for chairs.
Altogether there were about five of us who used the club house. One of us found an old stack of porno mags and brought them in. Another one of us swiped cigarettes from his relatives on a regular basis and brought them in. Someone else donated a pack of Bicycle playing cards. I contributed my battery powered transistor radio. We loved listening to Wolfman Jack and rock music.
On any given afternoon during the Bicentennial summer of '76 you could find two or more of us kicked back in that dusty little shack smoking Marlboros, flipping through a copy of Hustler or Jugs and listening to Redbone or WAR or Malo, and cracking up at whatever Wolfman Jack was saying in between records.
Everyone called me Guero "White Boy". I wasn't a bad looking kid. At 13 years old I was tall for my age and leanly muscular. I had a headful of dirty blonde hair, clear blue eyes and a perpetual California tan. A lot of the neighborhood girls had crushes on me. I dug them all right too. But that didn't sit well with some guys.
One Saturday morning in early August I woke up early and decided to go and see what Marcos was up to. He lived about a half mile away and I'd have to cross "enemy territory" to reach his house. The enemy being a pair of brothers named Dirty Juan and El Gordo. They went to school with Marcos and me and they hated us both. Dirty Juan was always filthy. I doubted the kid ever took a bath. While his brother was the fattest kid I'd ever seen in my life. He actually grunted when he breathed, sounded just like a pig snorting.
I was about halfway to Marcos place, crossing a big overgrown field with dry knee high weeds and goathead thorns and busted glass all over the ground when I saw Josefina, the sister of Dirty Juan and El Gordo sitting out on her porch. As disgusting as her brothers were, she was just the opposite. She was fine and when I say fine I mean hella fine. She smiled and waved at me.
"Hi Guero," she called. "You going to visit Marcos??"
I started to reply when the screen door to her house opened and El Gordo came stomping outside. He stared right at me and muttered something in Spanish. Next thing I know, Amy's yelling for their mom and I'm running because Dirty Juan, his fat brother and two more guys I didn't know were after me.
I was a fast runner, but so we're a couple of them. I ended up in a fight and well.... let's just say I'm still undefeated in one on one fights. Four on one, not so much.
I limped the rest of the way to Marcos' house and sat on his porch, fingering the big hole in the knee of my pants and tasting the coppery tang of blood at the back of my throat (from my nosebleed). I took some comfort in the fact that I had at least landed a nice solid punch to someone's jaw. I had no idea who but I remembered throwing the punch, connecting with a face and hearing a yelp.
"ay Dios mio!"
I turned around and saw Marcos mother standing at the door. She was staring at me.
"What happened to you??" She asked.
I told her. She clucked her tongue and muttered some choice words in Spanish.
"Come in," she said. "Let me clean you up."
I got up and walked into the house. By now it was as familiar as my own house. I'd spent enough time there.
Marcos mother was a pretty lady. She had married young to a much older man, and had (so far) given him five kids; Marcos being the middle child. But for all that she could still turn heads. She looked more Indian than Mexican with her long jet black hair, cinnamon skin tone and her fine facial bone structure. Truth was I had a little bit of a crush on her.
She led me to the kitchen and ran the water until it was hot, then she dampened a wash cloth and started wiping at my various bumps and bruises.
"Next time carry a big stick," she told me. "Those cowards won't try anything if you have a stick."
I nodded but didn't speak. I noticed we were the only ones in the house.
"Where's Marcos??"
"Ah, he's not home," she said. "The kids all went to visit their abuelita."
"You didn't go??" I asked.
"Psssh," she laughed. "No. She hates me. Didn't want her son to marry a lowly Diegueno like me."
"Diegueno??"
She smiled. "An Indio."
Oh, I thought. So she was an Indian. Cool. I think I liked her even more knowing it. I smiled goofily.
"What??" She asked.
"Nothin," I said. She smiled back at me and tossed the washcloth on the sink counter.
"You're filthy, must have rolled around on the ground huh?? You're going to take a bath and I'm going to lend you some of Caeser's clothes."
"No, that's ok," I gulped. Caeser was her oldest son and he was one of the neighborhood's two tough guys, the other being my older brother. The two hung out together and took turns spending time behind bars in the local Juvenile detention facility. At that moment my brother was serving five months. I didn't want Caeser killing me for wearing his clothes.
"I'm not giving you a choice," she said. "Go into the bathroom and strip off and lay your clothes outside the door. I'll leave some clean things for you in the same place.
I sighed, resigned to my fate and did what she asked.
I guess it was shortly after my bath, when I reached outside and picked up the clothes she'd laid out for me that the thought hit me, hey... I'm here alone with Marcos mom and I'm naked... because she asked me to get naked.
I grinned. It sounded a lot hotter in my head than it was, but I still felt studly.
I dressed in Caeser's clothes, which were too big for me, but I was too big for any of the other kids clothes. I had to admit I looked 100% better. I left the bathroom and found Marcos mom sitting in the living room stitching the knee of my torn pants.
She smiled at me and I sat across from her on the couch. While she hummed quietly and worked I stared at her. She was wearing a blouse with a plunging neckline and I could see the swells of her breasts. In no time I had a major hardon.
I guess I snapped out of my boob enduced Fugue the second or third time she cleared her throat.
"Uh, what," I looked up, blushing when I realized I'd been caught staring. She was grinning, a twinkle in her dark eyes.
"I said I'm finished mending your pants."
"Oh, oh cool thanks," I said, starting to stand and then not, because my erection would be apparent.
"Something wrong??" She asked, her smile growing wider.
"Oh I just thought I'd sit here a minute," I said.
"Uh huh," she gave me a knowing look, then stood and came over to me, dropping the pants on my left side and sitting down on my right.
"Tell me something," she said. "What were you staring at so hard??'
"Staring??" I blinked. "I wasn't..."
"You're a very bad liar Guero," she clucked her tongue and shook her head. "You like me huh??"
"Well, yeah," I replied.
"You think I'm pretty??" She reached over and tussled my hair. I felt my dick twitch.
"Your the prettiest lady I know," I told her.
"Aww, you say such sweet things," she told me. "I think you're very handsome too."
"You do??" I stammered.
"Mhmm," she nodded. "I bet you have lots of girlfriends yes??"
"Not really," I said.
"That's no good," she smirked, still stroking my hair. "Tell me something, have you ever seen a girl before?? I mean without her clothes on??"
"Uh uh uh," I fumbled for words.
"I don't mean in those trashy magazines you boys look at," she said. "I mean for real."
"No," I replied. My throat suddenly felt really dry and my forehead hot.
"You were staring at my chest," she said. "Would you like to see it??"
"Yes," I half squeaked.
She giggled. "Ok. But you have to keep it between us, ok??"
I nodded.
She took off her blouse and sat there naked from the waist up. Her breasts were magnificent. I stared at them, my mouth open. I wanted to touch them badly.
As if reading my thoughts she took my hands and placed them on her tits. I squeezed softly, feeling their weight, their warmth. I ran my fingers over the dark nipples. I was so hard now my erection had become painful.
"You like??" She asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "Your beautiful."
She laughed.
I kept fondling her breasts, running my thumbs over the nipples again and again.
She reached down and groped my hardon, I jumped slightly.
"Its no good for a man to hold it in," she said. "It can make you sick. I'll take care of it for you this time."
I didn't speak, I just watched her unzip the pants she'd loaned me and pull my hard little dick out. She leaned up against me and jacked me off.
"You like that??" She kept asking. "It feels good huh??"
I nodded, overwhelmed by all the new sensations flooding through me. Much too soon I came in her closed fist. It was a gusher.
"So much," she laughed. "I guess you really do like me huh??"
She cleaned herself up, packed me back in and zipped me up. Then she found a big stick for me (an old mop handle) and sent me back home with my old clothes tucked under my arm.
"Tell your mama I said hi ok??" She said.
I nodded. I was in love, I didn't want to go back home. I wanted to marry her. But I went.
I didn't even notice when I passed back by Dirty Juan's. He and his friends jeered and laughed, but just like she told me they didn't come near me while I had that mop handle.
I almost kept my word. I told my brother when he came home from Juvie. He laughed and told me she had taken his cherry too.
"I think she likes young white boys," he smiled.
That took some of the wind out of my sails. I wasn't special afterall.
In the end it hardly mattered. Marcos and his family moved away that summer. His grandma died and they moved into her house two counties away. I never saw any of them again.