My Weekend With Henry

The jury is finally in on my planned weekend with Henry Soto. It was great! As I mentioned earlier, he’s gorgeous and built, which left me anticipating that he would be flaky or a jerk. But he was actually incredibly sweet and affectionate. And pretty together, considering. He did pretty much what he said he was going to do, the whole time he was here.

He came in more or less on time on Thursday evening, with his friend Fabricio in tow. Fabricio is also from Costa Rica, very nice, and is staying — rather uncomfortably — with an older guy from Annapolis who paid for his travel to the U.S. and is thus kind of treating him like a rent-a-boyfriend. Not very nice.

Anyway, we all wound up at Chaos for Latin Night, and had a terrific time dancing our asses off. Fabricio hooked up there with a guy in his late 40s, Curt, and Henry persuaded me — against my better judgment, frankly — to let the both of them crash at my place. (Henry didn’t want to get separated from Fabricio, and Curt said his place was too small for all of us to party there.)

We finally got back to my place after two, where everybody made out in the living room for a while. Then I set up the guest room for Fabricio and Curt, and Henry and I went off to bed.

The sex was B+. He’s so beautiful, and, as I said, very affectionate. He wanted to top me, which hasn’t been done in years, at least not successfully — and this case was no exception. I’m so attracted to him I was willing to give it a try; he struggled to get in for twenty minutes, but I was impenetrable. In the end, he gave up, and we finished with oral sex and mutual j/o.

We slept tight, which felt great, and in the morning he came in to the bathroom as I was getting out of the shower, and we beat each other off breathlessly. It was actually pretty hot for a jack off.

On Friday, we took Curt home, and then Fabricio back to Annapolis (so he could reluctantly spend the weekend at the beach with his host/slave driver). Then back to DC so Henry could go to a modeling shoot for Sheridan’s Bar & Restaurant, which turned out to be the main purpose of his visit to DC.

Which brings me to the fact that there’s still quite a bit I don’t know about him. I know he’s 26; he came to live in the States seven months ago, but on a tourist visa, so he has to return to Costa Rica next week; it’s totally unclear when or whether he will be able to come back to this country on a proper student visa. I know from a web search he was a model and perhaps even a mini-gay-celebrity back in Costa Rica; that he hosted some kind of Latin Night for a while in Miami. But how he supports himself (rich parents, sugar daddy?), or what he’s studying, or much more of anything, I don’t know. He’s a little cagey about personal details, which I guess is understandable, since we really don’t know each other. He made it clear enough when he kept asking me — at the same time he was trying to get me to let Fabricio and Curt crash at my place — “Why are you trusting me? You don’t know me.” To which I replied, “I think I’m a good judge of character.” Which is true, but really, the fact that he was even thinking of that question proved to me that I could trust him.

For most of the weekend, we kind of played at being boyfriends. On Friday morning, we talked a little about the HIV issue — he had figured out I was positive from the start. That, combined with his distant address, pretty much kills any chance of an actual relationship. But we both figured it would be pleasant to, you know, hold hands and kiss and wrestle in bed — we pretty much did the physical externals of boyfriend-ship the whole 2-1/2 days he was here.

But on the other hand, on Friday night he was clear that he wanted to whore around — which I was fine with. We went (back) to Sheridan’s, where I danced and ran into Chuck Delwiche (old college friend), and Henry flirted with a bunch of guys. Then we went to the Eagle. At that point, Henry seemed ambivalent about whether he would hook up or come back home with me. But, of course, there’s always somebody willing to come on strong to a guy as beautiful as that, and someone did, and Henry went home with him. Which was fine.

Actually, there was kind of a sweet, trusting moment involved in that: I had Henry’s cell phone — which is totally his lifeline — in my car, which meant he didn’t have my number and would be entirely at his trick’s mercy. So I just wrote out my phone number and told Henry I would come get him any time if he needed me to. Then I went back to my place, with all of Henry’s luggage/phone/etc. And he went off with the guy. And it was fine.

The trick did, in fact, drop him off at my place Saturday morning. Then Henry and I went for breakfast; came home; Henry packed, kissed me, and left.

It was strange. Although we’ve corresponded by e-mail for a year, we didn’t get to know each other at all, and Henry admitted that he really had no idea who he was writing to. He’s just compulsive about keeping in touch with everybody. But now, although I’m well aware that the circumstances mean we may never see each other again, and although there’s still much I don’t know about him, I feel really great about making a solid new friend.