I had to get a job when I was in college. I got an on campus job as a busboy in the main cafeteria. Most everyone at that school didn't work, they were either borrowing their way through or had a rich daddies. Bussing their tables was hard, embarrassing really. But I put up with it, it was a job and I needed the money to pay rent and food.

Back in the back was Julio who was the main cook on the evening shift. Julio pushed me into the broom closet and fucked me. He fucked me many times, I sucked his dick and went to his apartment. Julio was fifty and he liked college boys. I was embarrassed about it and suffered a lot of mental trauma. But it didn't stop me from going to his apartment.

A leap forward thirty years later. I go with some friends offshore fishing off of Manzanillo. The breakfast waiter was named Julio. And he had that same look I remembered. He was man hungry and he woke up that sleeping dog in me. I sucked Julio, with all the passion I had suppressed. I kissed Julio, a small man in his late thirties, I loved on his dick and this time it was my turn to mount him. It was a wave of nonstop pleasure, extasy injecting my sperm in him.

I was embarrassed afterwards, regretted my actions. Julio wanted more and I chose to ignore him. I gave him a big tip instead. After our trip, back in my house, with my wife and kids asking me what I caught in Mexico, I worried 'did I catch something?' I had barebacked Julio. No I didn't. Relief. But the memory, the pent up desire never went away. Not Julio from my freshman year in college, and not Julio from my trip to Manzanillo thirty years later.