Ombligo

It's nighttime. I walk up to the counter of a coffeehouse I'd started going to several months ago. My favorite barista is there. I'd seen him before, he's a guy from Mexico who appears to be of college age, a freshman, perhaps.

Usually, when I see him he's in overalls or a white short sleeve tee. But today he's in a deep blue crop-top with the cheeky phrase "Let's Huddle" on it in a white athletic letter font. The shirt is cut high enough that a 3- to 4-inch strip of his stomach is visible and a rather nice innie bellybutton is showing. I can't not notice.

We chat. I tell him I notice the daring change of apparel, that his bellybutton is showing. "My ombligo," he says, using the Spanish word, and grinning. "Yeah, I like my bellybutton."

"I like it, too," I say back, allowing my eyes to drift furtively between his eyes and his navel.

No one else is around. It's actually close to closing time, I made it with 15 minutes to spare. I ask for a drink from their cooler, pay, and sit down, to watch him. He's a hot little number. He begins wrapping up for the night.

I've watched him close the coffeehouse before. He's rather low-key. For someone who can be goofy at times with his co-workers, when he's alone, wiping a table or pushing a broom, he is diligent. It's almost peaceful to watch. He's the last employee here this evening.

I find him attractive in an odd way. He has unusual features for what I consider a Mexican would look like. His hair is a dark brown rather than black, and wavy and thick like a rock musician's would be. His complexion is not white, but it's not the tone I usually see on Mexican-Americans in this city. It's like his biology was "cut" with something European. When he speaks, it's not the thickest Spanish accent, but it's not totally American, either. There's a touch of goofiness about his tone, just enough to be endearing.

And his arms are pretty hairy, surprisingly hairy for a younger guy -- not so thick I can't see the skin underneath, but clearly more than those thin, wispy hairs some guys have. I can't help but notice those every time I come in and he takes my order. At first I thought his arm hair strange, but over time I've come to find them sexy. Sexual response is a mystery to me.

It's a cute little coffee place. Seating for maybe 20. I noticed him when he started because another guy I also liked when I started coming left, to be replaced by him.

As it gets closer to closing he calls out to me.

"Hey, can I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"You drive?"

"Yep."

"Can I get a lift back to my place?"

"Sure. Just say when you're ready."

Figuring I should step outside, I get up, go to the door and step onto the sidewalk patio where the table umbrellas have all been closed up. Through the window I see him finishing up, then the lights go out and he emerges. It's an early fall night and it's pleasant with a light breeze.

He walks outside and locks the coffeehouse door. "Ready," he says with a broad smile. I see his bellybutton in the dim street light. I playfully poke it. He giggles lightly.

"You like it?" he asks.

"Yeah, I like it," I say slyly, smiling. "My car's over here."

We walk to my sedan and I open the passenger-side door for him. He slides in. I go to the driver's side, unlock it, and get in and start the car, putting some music on at low volume from a streaming service.

I ask where to go and he tells me. The GPS says it's about a 5 minute drive. We chat about nothing in particular. It occurs to me that where he lives isn't that far a walk. I could have asked why he wanted a lift, but I don't, deciding not to pry. I usually am in the car by myself, and am glad to have company for a change, especially someone cute.

We get to his place. I look at him. He thanks me. I say it's my pleasure.

"You want to come inside?" he offers.

I feel my dick stir. I'm a bit surprised he's this forward, but I do like him and that navel of his is calling to me.

"Anyone else live with you?" I say with a smile.

"No, just me, my place," he says softly, smiling back.

Figuring I may never get such a golden opportunity again, I say okay, then we get out and I lock the doors.

The property is pretty old, probably at least 50 years it's been standing, built at a time when central air was new. There wasn't much to see in the dark, but there were minimal patches of lawn and first-floor units had patios with wooden fencing surrounding them. It was refreshing to see an older place in the area, since gentrification's unrelenting push had resulted in many such older units being razed for unaffordable replacements that only white-collar professionals could afford.

He unlocks a door with the number 108 on the front, on the first floor of a two-story building. We go in. It's a small one-bedroom. A small lamp is on a table next to a clearly used sofa which has seen better days. All the furniture looks heavily used. Probably thrift shop stuff.

I walk to the sofa and take a seat. I tell him the place is cute. He thanks me. There's a brief pause.

Then he walks over to where I'm seated, and stands in front of me with his stomach and bellybutton right in my face. He has a slight grin -- it's mischievous, and I like it. I look up and smile back with lust in my eyes.

He takes my head in his hands and rests the side of my face against his bellybutton. It is warm, soft, supple. A soft moan of pleasure escapes me involuntarily.

"I like my bellybutton," he says in a whisper, almost like a chant.

I begin kissing his stomach, planting a flurry of kisses right on his navel. My penis has a raging erection now, and I can feel it making precum.

With my hands I reach up and take him by the sides holding my face firmer against his midsection. A moan of pleasure escapes him this time.

For the next what seemed like 15 minutes, that was all we did, me smooching his bellybutton, he eating it all up and loving it, with light moans every few moments.

He drew back and motioned me to join him in the bedroom. A nightstand light gently lit the room. Still fully clothed with his blue crop-top on, he lay down face up on the bed. I followed behind him slightly more slowly so my mind could record what I was experiencing.

"You're gorgeous," I told him. Then I fished my smartphone from my pocket. "May I?" I asked.

He nodded happily. I took a few images. I asked if I could have a couple of him standing also, since I like the way a crop-top hangs off a guy when he's upright. He was cool with that, getting up off the bed to pose.

Still standing, I walked over to hug him. He stepped into it. What I felt was a full, very warm, tight embrace, surprisingly emotional. I wasn't sure if I was feeling infatuation on his part or just that he's a sweet, kindly soul, but it felt absolutely amazing.

I allowed my hands to graze down to his bared midsection and back. Warm and firm.

He went back to the bed again and lay down, face up, resuming his position from before. He beckoned me to join him.

I gently and cautiously climbed on top of him. As it was still fairly warm weather, I wasn't wearing much, just a tee and shorts. He playfully peeled my tee off over my head. Then I resumed kissing his bellybutton, which he just couldn't seem to get enough of.

Minutes later I switched it up, choosing to gently fondle his navel with my index finger, making circles around it and occasionally pressing down in the deepest part of it in the middle. Unlike his arms, there was no body hair on his stomach - just a deep, oval innie bellybutton about an inch long, my favorite kind.

He reached over to my shorts, unzipped them, and deftly pulled out my now very hard penis, beginning to stroke it. Not wanting to be left behind, I got his cock out also, which was rather long (longer than mine), thick, and had a sizable head on it, moist with precum also. In its erect state it was pointing at his bellybutton. An ejaculation would easily inundate it with jizz.

I loved the feeling of his bellybutton, hearing him moan quietly, and him breathing steadily. "I love my bellybutton," he began to chant every other minute or so, as I picked up the cadence of my fondling and fingering it.

He was working at getting me off, too. We weren't communicating in words to each other but something remarkable was clearly going on.

His breathing began to quicken and get louder as I continued fingering his navel. And then he said "I'm gonna come...I'm gonna come...I'm gonna come..."

Suddenly erupting from the tip of his penis was a huge glob of nearly white, thick, stringy, warm semen, which completely moistened my finger in his bellybutton. Another jetted out, getting my entire index finger wet, and completely filling his navel. Then another, squirting further, hitting his stomach, catching the side of my hand in the process. Several others followed, trailing off in intensity, running down the the side of his stomach and onto the bedclothes.

He began to stroke me faster as if to say he wanted me to come, too. His hand felt so good, so warm, and his strokes were just the right speed as when I do it myself.

I felt myself sharply give way, all over his hand, which insistently continued pulling on me until I'd left my jism all over his bedcovers and on the floor. I had managed to make a small mess on my own, and I had rarely felt better, sexually.

I took a moment to survey the scene before me: he on his back, eyes closed with a slight smile on his face, his bellybutton completely submerged in his own cum, with some running down his sides, and some of mine on his bedding.

I got my smartphone out again and took several photos of him, in this lovely erotic vista. Then I bent over his wet, messy stomach and implanted several kisses on the parts that hadn't been squirted.

His eyes opened. He had a bigger smile now.

"Thanks for the ride home," he gently said.

"Thank you for...this. I really needed it," I replied almost in a whisper.

"Can we do this again soon?"

"Yeah..." I said, thoughtfully. "I think we can. You were awesome."

He got up off the bed, a string of semen now dangling off the edge of his crop-top. He hadn't bothered to stick his cock back in his pants so it was flaccid now, with a bit of jizz dangling off it. We walked to the door.

Before he opened it, he hugged me. Hard. Once again, I kissed him on the cheek, squeezing him back, just as hard. I really do like this guy. Then I zipped up my shaft, opened the door, and stepped out into the night, very satisfied.