ORIGINAL EROTIC GAY STORY Paco goes to Cuba

 

When the Mariel exodus happened my mom hounded me to go and pick up her sister and husband and their three children. I flew to Miami and made it to Key West in a borrowed car from my mom's aunt and hired a shrimp boat.

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This blog does contain adult and gay material. If you are under your country's legal age (18 or 21), do not scroll down and leave this page now. 

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Paco goes to Cuba to pick up relatives.

By Paco Prado

With the storming of the Peruvian Embassy in Havana by over 100 exile seekers, the publicity engendered worldwide became a real embarrassment to the Castro regime. So much was Castro’s anger and frustration that the son of a bitch went on television to tell his country that nobody had to stay in Cuba if they didn’t want to, they were free to go and for that purpose he would allow the Miami refugees to come and get their relatives in boats if they so desired.

This unleashed the infamous “Mariel Boatlift” which started on April 15, 1980 and ended October 31, 1980, with the arrival of over 125,000 Cubans to Southern Florida from Port of Mariel, Cuba.

Castro did not anticipate such a furor and response. Thousands of Cuban refugees living in the United States scraped whatever funds they could to either rent boats or to pay off boat captains to go to Cuba and bring their relatives. After a few days of this, Castro realized that he could empty out his jails, insane asylums and also put on the boats the homosexual population of Cuba.

What followed was pure chaos. As the criminals and the insane as well as Cuban gays were introduced into these boats the United States government had a major headache in their hands. It was impossible to turn off the spigot and they kept coming. Processing centers were set up in make-shift attempts to bring some order to this exodus. Opalocka Airport was used for this purpose in an abandoned hangar there were thousands of refugees being processed.

My father had worked as an engineer in Los Angeles for the Hughes Helicopter division. A debilitating illness left him confined to a wheelchair. His father could not possibly make the trip so he sent me with the cash to bring the uncle and two of his sons. The mother would not agree to make the trip into exile because she had been a member of the communist party.

I flew to Miami and traveled to Key West by bus. There after much searching and dead ends, I was able to hire a shrimp boat but had to go halves with another Cuban man who wanted to bring his wife and child.

Four of us, the captain and his first mate made the trip across without any problem. Once we got to Mariel harbor the Cuban military took over the boat and let us stay on board but we could not go on shore. We had limited supplies so we were getting nervous as to how long it would take for them to hand over the relatives.

On the third day, we were going through the last of the canned tuna and then a vessel of unknown demarcations approached us and they identified themselves as Cuban Special Forces. They unloaded over 30 people, men, women and children but none of the relatives. We then asked once more for them and then very late in the afternoon we could see a van drive up to the dock and some people got out. They boarded a small boat with an outboard motor and came towards us. As they got closer, the other two traveling with us recognized them as their relatives. I had never seen the uncle or the cousin so I wasn’t sure it was them. When they came on board, there was a lot of emotional display and people were crying and sobbing. Then the two men, approached me and asked me if I was Paco. It was them.

My poor uncle, younger than my father by almost nine years, looked tattered and defeated. He looked older, for a man in his late fifties, he looked at least twenty years older than my dad. The cousin was another story. This was a stud with the face and the body to match, but terribly crude and hopelessly straight.

When the first boat unloaded all those strangers, we noticed quite a few anomalies. There were two of them that were babbling idiots, apparently just plucked from the mental institution. Then there were four who in our opinion were hardened criminals. They had tatooes and their demeanor was aggressive and nasty. Among the other people I spotted one that was just a dream. This guy was super cute. He had a couple of days growth of beard, had light brown hair and the dreamiest green eyes. He was of slight build and not too tall. As he came into the boat, our eyes met and we knew at that very moment that we both recognized each other as gay. It is one almost automatic reflex or behavior pattern, some call it GAYDAR.

The boat was at that point crowded and we knew we could not hold any more people. But the Cuban government had a different idea. They were not releasing us to sail and before the evening was over they loaded up fifteen more people. These were regular folks, all of them from the city of Cardenas, near Varadero. Most were members of one extended family. We felt a little more at ease, but that did not change the fact that we were now terribly overloaded.

We set sail in the middle of the night and the seas were rough. The passengers were all getting sick as dogs. Vomit was everywhere and the stench was incredible. It was enough to make a magget throw up. I did not get to talk to the pretty guy because it was impossible for me to get to the bow of the ship where he was but we exchanged glances often and we would smile at one another.

The storm subsided and what was left was a very beautiful dawning of a new day, filled with color and a promise for freedom. We arrived at the home dock and the authorities were there waiting to take all these would be refugees to a processing center. We asked where they were taking them and we were told that Opa Locka. Before the guy got off the boat, I asked him his name, and he said it was Yovannis Govea and that if there was anything I could do for him he would appreciate it because he had no relatives in America.

I made it back to Miami on a Greyhound bus and took a room in a hotel near the airport. I then took a cab to the Opa Locka airport and was not going to leave until I had my uncle and my cousin released to me. It took hours and hours. Finally on the second day, about midmorning, they were release to my custody and I used the opportunity to ask for the release of Yovannis. They were reluctant but after a couple of hours of interviewing him they released him too.

I now was faced with what to do with the guy, but I thought he would be better off in Los Angeles anyhow and I purchased airline tickets for all three of them. I took an extra room for my uncle and the son and Yovannis would stay with me. I had an idea that something would happen but wasn’t sure if the guy was doing it out of gratitude or because he was attracted to me. But after I fed them all at the hotel’s restaurant, we went upstairs and talked a lot.

The attraction was there, no doubt, and one thing led to another and we found each other in a very torrid embrace right there in the bathroom of that Holiday Inn.

Yovannis- “Oh, Paco desde el primer momento que te ví cuando puse mis pies en el bote yo sabía que eras mi angel guardian y que ibamos a hacer el amor” (Oh, Paco from the very first moment I laid eyes on you as I stepped into the boat I knew you were my guardian angel and we were going to make love)

I will continue the dialogue in English although it was all in Spanish, for the sake of brevity.

Me- “And Iknew I was going to have you in my arms as well, I just didn’t think it was going to be possible” We were talking but the clothes were coming off as we spoke. Then the heavy kissing started and not much else was said except when Yovannis got a hold of my cock.

Yovannis- “Oh Paco, that is the biggest cock I have ever seen, I can’t hardly wait until you penetrate me with it up my ass”

We were doing a lot of sucking, and I then started to probe his bum hole with my fingers. The guy had the nicest, tightest asshole that just begged to be eaten and fucked. I soon rimmed him until he was getting so hot that he begged to be fucked.

Yovannis- “oh, oh, Virgencita de la Caridad, oh, oh, oh, Jesús, María y José, que pinga tan grande, oh, oh, papi, ay, ay, ay, ay que rico, oh, oh, métemela toda, ay, ay, que cosa tan rica” (Oh, oh, mother virgin, oh, oh, Jesus, Joseph and Mary, what a big cock, oh, oh, daddy, oh, oh, oh, how good, oh, oh, cram all of it into me, oh, oh, what delicious thing)

Yovannis shot his wad and I picked it up from his belly and chest, gave him some to eat and then had some myself. I shot my wad inside him and it must have been a torrent because when I pulled out it all came gushing like a geyser.

We lived in an apartment in Brentwood, near Beverly Hills. It had three bedrooms and two baths. It faced an inner courtyard with a small pool nobody used. From the moment they arrived, my cousin and my uncle planted themselves on the living room couch and all they did was watch television. The dirty dishes and glasses was piling up on the center table. My uncle smoked, even the ashtray was filled with butts and he would not even empty it. This went on for a couple of weeks and my father was starting to get annoyed.

In the meantime, Yovannis who was sleeping in my room, in my bed even though there were two single beds, from the day he got there he never stopped. After I took my cousin and Yovannis to buy some clothes and some shoes, Yovannis made it a point to learn the bus routes, he would stare at the map of Los Angeles for hours, he even got on the phone and found out about some English classes being taught at Beverly Hills High School. He enrolled in night classes and within a short period of time was already speaking very adequate English. My uncle and my cousin were still sitting in the living room watching television.

The third week he was there, Yovannis got a job at a car wash. He started working and when he got the first paycheck he gave it to me to pay for his rent and food. He even said he wanted to reimburse me for the plane ticket. I wouldn’t dream of taking the money from him.

After a month and a half of this nonsense, my father and his brother had it out. It was a terrible shouting match. I had previously been able to enroll them in the welfare program and they were going to get them an apartment for people with low incomes. The apartment came through for them and they left. We never heard from them again as my uncle and my father stopped talking to each other. Even when dad passed away, I got in touch with them and they didn’t even bother to come to the funeral.

But then, that was very typical of the Cubans that came during the Mariel boat lift. It was a misconception on their part that their relatives owed them to be supported and for them not to lift a finger not even to help themselves. There were a lot of families who had to throw out their Mariel relatives within a month or two.

In contrast, Yovannis was just the opposite. He was ready to live life, to learn, to work and to make something of himself. Yovannis learned English perfectly even though he never got rid of his accent, but it was charming. We get it on once in a while except for a few times when he has been in a committed relationship that doesn’t last, then he comes back to me.

PHOTO SOURCE: http://www.semp.us/images/Biot572PhotoD.jpg