Bachelor #18, Mr.Plantain who likes it furry.

Okay, Judy, so I was outside of room 17 in this really cheap motel by the airport run by some nosy Indian dudes who kept eyeing me as I stood by the door to the room unable to make up my mind about what I should do. Inside was this Cuban guy from Chicago who kept calling me Papi. I met him a year before and we had talked on the phone and all of the sudden, he showed up and was acting really horny. I was pretty desperate for some TLC so I agreed to meet him.

"Papi want this dick in his ass, Papi want some rice and beans," he said. Everything was Papi this and Papi that. 

He said I was pretty . "I love your cinnamony skin," he said, over and over again, in his broken English --heavy on the Cuban, easy on the English. I wanted to believe it but I knew that he just wanted to get at my hairy ass ---probably the only reason we got together. I fit some weird little idea in his head of what got him going --dark, hairy and foreign --of which, hairy was the most important. I assured him long before that I had at least a level 4 amount of hair on my body --Robin Williams being level 5, and that the hair was all over.

"It's all over you body right?" he had asked a few weeks before on the phone, in a not too sexy whisper, like he had his thing out as he talked.

"Yes."

"Don't trim it, or shave please," he demanded.

"Okay."

"Especially your ass. I can't wait to eat your hairy ass."

"Gross, but sure," I said picturing his teeth filled with my ass hairs.

"I can't wait. Your hairy shoulders are going to make me very horny. You got hairy shoulders right?

"Yes, the shoulders are hairy, we've been through this a hundred times."

When I walked inside the room and we finally met, he turned out to be way older than he said he was and smelled like one of those greasy Cinnibon muffins you get at airports --the kind with the extra dollop of butter creme melting all over.  I had made an excuse and walked out to get a drink hit with serious doubts about going back in and doing it with this older more (45 than 29) guy who wanted to rub up against something brown and hairy. But I felt bad that he had flown out and he had been wanting to do it for over a year so I  just pushed away all the weirdness and went inside again.

 It also started to rain and the crazy Indian dudes from the front desk we on my tip --now watching  my every move so I told myself I had no choice.

The Cuban didn't waste any time and showed me his little friend as soon as I stepped back into room 17. He took it out of his grey track pants and bang, when it was out in the open, it really felt like a whole other person joined us. Suddenly the old guy wasn't so bad I said to myself as I locked eyes with his manhood.  

His "johnson" was huge --it kind of reminded me of one of those old Air India metal planes I used to play with as a kid, the one with a thousand double D batteries. I had never seen one this big in real life, only in the trashy movies. It was literally the size of two coke cans or one monster plantain. It had a smell  --a good one, like vanilla-- like he had rubbed it in frosting just moments before. How did he know my weakness was sugar and butter? Just the smell of it made me want to dip it in a tall glass of milk and take a huge bite. 

Instead, I inhaled deeply and the whole room smelled like a mexican bakery.

"I rub it with Jessica Simpson brand Body Lotion just for you, --sugar cookie," he said.

"You went all out, thanks," I said, with appreciation, putting aside the picture I got of the cut out bin at a noisy, messy  SuperMarshall's or T-J Maxx in the hood with the now deeply discounted Jessica Simpson Skin Care crap.

"I do that for my man," he added, "I know how to make myself real clean and smell good," he confirmed, doing the  best impression of a neanderthal I'll ever see without a time machine.

"Clean is good."

"No it isn't, Indian men don't clean up for the ass sex, I have to tell them to take a shower and  brush they asshole with a tooth brush and to use the anal rinse."

"Great, I am clean but I did not douche, because this whole meeting was so sudden and because I am not putting that thing inside me,  I will die," I said without looking up from his penis. 

I was also a little afraid of the kind of Indian guys he had been with, the one's with the dirty holes.

"Why not, you don't want a Macho top?" he asked sadly as he quickly glanced at a monster sized tube of astrocreme butt lube laying innocently on the night stand, waiting to be opened.  He was prepared, I'll give him that."I had no idea it even got that big, I've only done it with Indian guys up to this point and they were averageing about 6 inches at the most."

"Well so what? We can't do it Papi?"

"How about I play with it a little and then I get on the bed and you can stick it in between my balls, in the back, so that your dick can kind of rub on my ass cheeks and into the back of my thing," I said serious as can be, the last thing I needed was reconstructive surgery for my behind. 

He looked pissed off but thankfully settled for the frotage.

For the next two hours he played with all the hair on my body and then banged the back of my nuts with what felt like a two liter bottle of Coke. The whole time he was pretend fucking me he said stuff like, "Ohh Papi, that feels so good, and you like that Papi, you want this every night, you can have this every night, I give you this every day, I treat my man good, and get you a house on the beach in Havana."  

It never fails, in between the in and out and before the spooge, that's when a guy feels the most, and promises the world --or beach front property. Afterwards, I'd be lucky if I got dinner at Applebee's or a Denny's Grand Slam.

In the end, I had to finally jack him off with both hands cranking like a gymnast.  The whole enterprise made my hands so tired that I took a 15 minute break to watch Reno 911 and catch my breath. I couldn't imagine having to do this every day -- for eternity.   

I finally asked my internal Judy Blume and she confirmed what I had been feeling. " You learned a very important lesson --when it's as big as a plantain it's fun to look at but it takes a lot of effort, and if you don't have a lot of upper body strength, or have a weak grip etc, I say skip it for something more manageable."

"Thanks Judy, you're the best, can I interest you in adult adoption? --everyone's doing it and you could start with me."