We made our way through Peru and Brazil before making it to Montevideo in Uruguay. None of us had ever been before, but I had heard good things about the place and that it was very LGBTQ friendly. Little did I know, that was an understatement. When we arrived, it had a slow-paced and quaint atmosphere. It felt weirdly familiar, not quite deja vu, but like I had been there in a dream.
All of us were shocked at how hot everyone was. I don't think I had ever seen a place with so many attractive people before. The weather was luckily a little warmer than normal for this time of year. It was too cold to get into the water, but people were lounging on the beach and letting skin show. We were going to spend a couple days longer here before leaving the continent. Most of the countries were going to have two or three days dedicated to them, with breaks in between continents.
We were staying in a few cottages with a shared garden. They were small but charming. Luckily, Michael was the one to suggest I share a cottage with Emerson, because otherwise Marcus would have to share one with me or Em or Sasha, and he figured Sasha was the only one who would be able to stand him. Plus, they got the larger cottage that actually had two bedrooms. Em and I took the one farther away from everyone else, that overlooked the beach down the hill. We were going to have a great time.
The show and the gala were successful. After business, we had time to relax. We all went to a few sight-seeing places for an afternoon. The weather was nice, in the seventies and sixties with lots of sun. The city beamed with color. The food was delicious. The people were nice. Montevideo was slowly becoming one of my favorite cities.
In the late evening, when everyone was retiring to their cottages, Em proposed an idea. "There is this place I heard about," he said. "We should ride some bikes down the beach and go to it." He was rummaging through his luggage.
"What is the place?" I asked, lounging on the bed.
"It's a bar," he said. He pulled out a pair of denim shorts. "A gay bar, but it's kind of discreet, apparently. It should be fun."
"Sure, we can go," I said, but I was a little nervous about it.
"You have to dress gay, though," he said, changing his clothes.
"I'm not gay," I said, smirking.
"Okay, but you still need to dress gay."
The next thing I knew, Em was taking a pair of my black jeans and cutting them so they were short as well. They were not as short as his, but they showed a decent amount of thigh. He put on a white linen button-down and made me put on a black linen button-down. Then we hopped on bikes that came with the cottage and rode them down the beach.
He was correct that it was more discreet. There was a small cove with trees hiding a small bar, almost like a shack. There were a lot of shirtless men outside the place. We went in and the dance floor was small and packed with even more mostly shirtless men. Em and I got drinks first, standing by the bar.
The freedom these queer men had was something to envy. They were truly living openly. Did fear or shame ever cross their minds? Based on their faces, I couldn't imagine the answer being yes. They were smiling, laughing, kissing, and staring so deeply into another's eyes. I knew I was bisexual from a young age. I was shamed for being so and even though I still felt shame since then, I didn't let it prevent me from acting on my temptations. I had grown content being in the closet. People most important to me knew. Men I slept with did not out me. I was content. But, when I looked at these happy men being happy with each other, I found myself longing for that feeling.
I set my drink down on the bar and held my hand out to Em. "Wanna dance?" I asked.
He smiled, surprised, but nodded and took my hand.
We danced on the floor in the midst of the sweaty bodies, our shirts eventually coming off so we looked like everyone else, skin bumping into skin. We were dancing for fun. We were smiling and laughing and eventually kissing. No one came up to me to ask me if they recognized me. No one bothered us. Everyone was in their own world but we were all together at the same time. We were living unapologetically.
Em and I danced for what felt like hours, not even having another drink. We found our way outside, where the cool evening made us shiver. We stood at the back of the bar amidst some trees. I wrapped my arms around Em to warm him up. Then we were kissing, like many of the other men behind the bar.
"Come on," Em whispered. He pulled me deeper into the trees where more men were making out and also perhaps doing more than making out. We went deep into the trees until we were at the edge, overlooking a small beach.
Em kissed me deeply, his arms around my neck. I reciprocated, putting my hands on his hips. He kissed me in the ways he learned I like, and I kissed him how he liked it. Then he let go, smiling, pulling me by the hand to the water.
We kicked off our shoes and let the cold waves lick our feet, still holding hands. Then, we were kissing again, the kind of kissing that would not stop. We sat on the sand, kissing, our hands slowly moving over each other. Any coldness we felt was gone as we breathed hotly against one another. We took off what little clothing we had left on and I hiked his legs up. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight.
"Can I take a picture of you?" I asked.
"Right now?" he asked. "What, to jerk off to later?"
I laughed. "No, no, just your face."
He nodded. "Okay." He grabbed his phone and let me use it. His phone was newer with a much nicer camera than my five-year-old cellphone. "You want me to pose?"
"No, no," I said. I reached down with my left hand and stroked him, the phone in my right hand. I snapped a photo of his first gasp and his first moan, when he arched his neck. I snapped a photo when I entered him. Eventually, the phone fell out of my hand because we were getting closer to finishing and I needed to hold him.
After, we stayed on the beach, cuddling in the sea breeze, until it got too cold we had to put our clothes back on. We jogged back to the bikes to warm up. Then we biked back to the cottage. Once there, I opened the window that looked out onto the beach. Em sat on the bed, still looking radiant in the moonlight. I sat in the armchair next to the window so I could look at him.
"Wanna go again?" Em asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
I sighed. "I can't yet," I said. "You sure make me feel old, you know? Your drive is a lot stronger than mine."
"Sorry," he said. "I think the traveling makes me horny."
I chuckled. "I can tell." I smirked at him and he just smiled back at me. "I mean, if you really wanted to, you could touch yourself."
"Is that what you're into?" he asked, tilting his head. He was a good flirt.
"Not sure," I said. "Never had someone jerk off in front of me, but sometimes when I peruse certain adult sites it is the type of content I frequent."
Em just smiled softly at me. Then he stood up and slipped off all of his clothing. He crawled onto the bed to lie down. He slid his hands up and down his torso slowly, turned so his head was closer to me, almost hanging off the bed. He held his hand out and pointed to the lube sitting next to me. I put some in his hand and he started touching himself. He moaned as he stroked himself, looking back at me.
He was lasting long enough for me to get turned on and feel ready. I stood up and took off my clothes. I sat over him and he took me in his mouth. I leaned forward and took him in my mouth as well, moving my head in rhythm with the thrusts of my hips. Since he had been touching himself, he finished first. He let me tower over him and thrust into his mouth. He took me with surprising ease, even when I got faster towards the end. Once I finished, we took a quick shower. After we dried off and brushed our teeth, we climbed into bed naked, and then I spooned him as we faced the window. He fell asleep quickly.
I couldn't fall asleep, though. I realized how much stress and shame and worry I did not feel with Em, especially today. I danced freely with him in front of strangers. I had sex with him on the beach. Nothing negative crossed my mind. I didn't think about how I didn't deserve him or how I was going to go to Hell. I didn't think of how horrible of a man I am. I just had fun. I felt happy. Genuine happiness.
This is the life I wanted. I wanted Em in my arms. I wanted to dress however I wanted. I wanted to be whoever I wanted openly and freely. I wanted this pure happiness. This was a life worth living for, but I had to work towards it. I wasn't there yet. I still had baggage I wanted to leave behind. There were things I hadn't faced, things I needed to tell my therapist. I had time to figure it out, though. This is what I had to figure out on this trip. I would schedule an appointment with Cheryl. We would talk about how to tell my parents about the childhood trauma. I would come to peace with the things I cannot control. Then by the time we returned home, I would be ready to tell Em how much I loved him. Then, I could live the best life everyday.