I'm reading peacefully on the bed when Jose sneaks into the room. His shirtless body seems coiled with a mischevious energy, ready to spring. He says he's going to give me the salto de sapito--jump of the little frog--so I clench myself as the full weight of his body lands on mine. I twist and scream (baby,baby,baby...!) but it's no use. Jose is younger, stronger, and more determined to fuck me than I am to resist him.
Maybe this is what love is. One day we're dancing naked together in the kitchen, our dicks swinging comically to the latin beat; the next day he's moved in, and I'm picking up his blackberry shampoo. Jose doesn't have a job so I buy everything and don't care. I'm afraid to tell my friends how it is, afraid they'll think I'm being used for money. It just doesn't feel that way. I've been used before, but its never felt this good. Sometimes I think I'm the one using him. Why would a beautiful, muscular 22 year-old guy want to be with fat, balding, gringo me? I try to talk to Jose about it. He tells me to shut up my little bocita and take off my clothes, so I do.
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