The Second Coming of Jesus
Jan 26th, 2025 by Holiday
Early in the evening Jesus Castillo noticed me and my wife at the outdoor café on the main plaza of San Miguel de Allende. He was the stranger from the swimming pool at Hotel Quinta Loreto. An attractive man in his early 30s, attired in a white polo shirt and matching white summer slacks, he smiled easily.
“May I join you?” he asked.
The Mexican sky already had a yellowish tinge, like cheap paper darkening in the fading sunlight.
Allegedly, Jesus was a consultant from Corpus Christi on vacation in San Miguel. We engaged in other small talk.
Yet there was no possibility of ignoring our earlier encounter.
“I enjoyed myself very much last night,” Jesus said. “I hope you both found the evening memorable.”
I knew my wife was attracted to Jesus, and would readily submit to his masculine charms again. I loved watching her act like a slut with him. I loved the way he dominated her and spoke coarsely to her.
What I couldn’t admit was my own attraction to him.
“Why don’t we meet again tonight?” Jesus proposed. “There’s no reason we should deceive ourselves about formalities, don’t you agree?”
This direct approach was appealing. He was right, of course. After our scandalous encounter by the pool, there was no excuse for inhibitions.
Skillfully, Jesus guided my hand into his lap. I tried to resist, but his hold was very firm. My fingers touched his open fly, and he directed me further into his pants. I touched his rigid erection through his very damp briefs. Reaching further, I found the head of his swollen cock.
My wife knew right away what Jesus compelled me to do under the table. She was scarcely surprised, and enjoyed a small glass of vino blanco.
I began to stroke his thick erection with genuine enthusiasm.
Sitting at that sidewalk cafe in the evening was like being in Fellini’s La Dolca Vita - within minutes, an assortment of vendors, beggars, panhandlers, cripples and people with appalling deformities, paraded by our table. Of course the circus freak candidates also paid us a visit: the midget shoeshine boy and the blind accordionist.
Then, after a series of very slight jerks, Jesus quietly had an orgasm, his warm juices soaking through his briefs, and all over my fingers.
When he finished, I slipped my hand out of his pants and wiped it off on my napkin. Jesus got his zipper back up just moments before the waiter showed up with the check, which he insisted on paying.
Afterward the three of us walked around the plaza, enjoying the warm night air of central Mexico, before heading back to our hotel.
We had barely stepped into our modest room, before the hand of Jesus was up under my wife’s skirt, and it didn’t take any imagination to know what he was doing.
Jesus quickly pushed her dress up around her waist, and her panties down from her hips, pulling them over her legs and off, throwing them to the floor beside the bed. She allowed herself to be manipulated like a puppet.
“Wet already?” Jesus asked, feeling his cock stiffen.
My wife responded with a series of delightful moans.
Continued.