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Pablo, my Latin older neighbor


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Since I was a child I lived in the same neighborhood, with the same neighbors. I played on the street with the usual people, until we grew up and moved away. All the houses in the neighborhood had a child my age, except that of the neighbor on the right, who lived alone.
Everyone said he was gay, so no one came close to him. But I always thought they were envious, because he had the biggest house in the region, with a pool and everything. My parents always treated him well, invited him to my birthday parties and he gave me great gifts, so I was always courteous to him too.
When I was fourteen, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and it was Pablo, the neighbor, who took care of me while my father was in the hospital with her. In the two years that followed until the death of my mother, we created a bond almost like father and son.
At that time, I already knew that he was really gay, I had met some of his boyfriends, and he was the first person to whom I told that I was also gay.
What I didn't told him was that I had a secret crush on him, after all, a skinny teenager like me would never have a chance with a mature, 36-year-old man, wealthy and well resolved like him.
I had already spent countless afternoons in the pool at Pablo's house, and when he went swimming with me, I would look at his strong, hairy body, with that big volume in his trunks and all the tattoos he had on his body. He told me to wear swim trunks, but I always wore shorts, so he wouldn't notice my erection.
My father was very depressed after my mother's death and started drinking, so whenever I could, I would run away to Pablo’s. He had even given me a copy of his key, so I could come in and watch TV or use the computer when he was gone working.
One day, as usual, I went to his house during his working hours, thinking it would be empty. I was starting to settle in the living room when I heard a groaning noise coming from his room.
I went there in silence and came across a scene that left my jaw dropping. Pablo was fucking another man with all the pressure.
The guy was under him, in a chicken position, while Pablo fucked him mercilessly. His hairy, juicy ass was in front of me, as were his huge balls. The guy moaned and screamed like he was in paradise.
For a moment, I thought the man under him had seen me, because he whispered something in Pablo's ear after looking at the door. But I was well hidden in the shades and they just kept fucking, without looking in my direction.
I was looking at that scene for some time, my dick exploding in my underwear, when I heard Pablo saying:
“Do you want my cum?”
”Yes, I really want it”, the other man shouted in ecstasy.
“And what kind of cum is it?”, asked Pablo.
“It's poz cum.”
"Say what you want then," ordered my neighbor.
“I want you to poz me, to fill me with HIV.”
Hearing that was strange. First, because I didn't know that my neighbor had HIV. Second, the other guy was getting fucked without a condom on purpose, literally begging to be infected.
A few seconds after that, I heard Pablo howling, and I knew he was coming inside the passive's ass, injecting him with his virus-contaminated semen.
I turned away in silence, left his house and ran to mine. My cock was still hard and drooling in my underwear, so I ran to the bathroom and touched myself remembering the scene I had just witnessed.
I came as I never had in my life, I had to restrain myself from screaming otherwise I would get my dad's attention.
I didn't fully understand why the guy wanted to be infected with a virus that had no cure, but I realized how that would feel in sex. Because it was bigger than just sex, they were creating a bond that would last until the end of their lives, something totally irreversible.
I never mentioned any of that to anyone, obviously, because people would find it strange and try to get me away from Pablo. I continued to act normally with him, but in a way our relationship was no longer the same, because I knew his secret.
The more the time passed, the more I understood the fetish that man had to be pozzed by my neighbor. It was literally putting your life in the hands of the other, and I didn't know a better person than my neighbor to have that kind of trust.
I started researching the subject on the internet and discovered that there was a whole community with this type of fetish. The more videos I watched, the more I became horny about it. I even lost track of how many handjobs I gave myself imagining my neighbor doing that to me.
It was in these researches that I discovered that a tattoo that he had just above the swimsuit mark meant that he was positive and that he was proud of it. One day, when we were sitting by the pool, I got some courage and said:
“I really like your tattoos, when I turn 18, I want to get some done.”
"Tattooing is something that when you do the first one, you get addicted," he said.
“Would you be upset if I had one just like yours?”, I asked.
“Which one?” he wanted to know.
"The one over the swim trunks," I said innocently. “I think it's very beautiful.”
He smiled a little condescendingly, as if I had no idea what I was talking about and said:
“That one has a very special meaning for me, someday I’ll explain it to you.”
I didn't ask anything because I already knew what it meant, and he closed the matter too. But I realized that from that day on he started looking at me differently, as if he were evaluating me. At that time, I was starting to gain some muscle, because I was going to the gym and my body was starting to develop as well. There was hair growing in corners that I never imagined I could have it, and I left everything to be natural, just as I had seen that Pablo was.
I thought he could be evaluating me in that matter, seeing the changes in my body, but he never said anything. Time passed and our relationship remained the same as always. It was childish of me to still hope to be with a man twenty years older than me, who thought about me as if I was his son more than anything.

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