Chapter 6
The Bull Ring-A Fiesta of Sex
Living close to the Mexican border, and having written many interviews and first-hand accounts of bullfighting, the author is familiar with both bullfights and toreros. The ranks of the toreros are filled with eager, dedicated young men, whose dreams in life are to become heroes in the bullfight arena. To many of them from poor homes, it is the only possible chance at wealth and glory. They are ready to do anything for that chance.
And if anything should include having to go to bed with one of the bullfight promoters, or with the owner of a small plaza de toros, then the ambitious young torero will drop his scruples and his pants, and embark on the sex route toward success. Often, they are exploited and used sexually, their manhood violated, without ever achieving the success for which they are sacrificing themselves. Sometimes, they are seduced by an entire "syndicate" of promoters, in an orgy of hot-blooded humping, before they ever even step inside an arena.
While it is true that many of these misguided, would-be heroes suck cocks only reluctantly, they do it nevertheless. They submit their tender, virginal ass-holes to whomever can do them the most good, and in Spain, South America, and Mexico, it is so common that, as one aficionado said, "The matador has had far more things stuck in him than the brave bull he has just killed!"
There are a lot of reasons why a novice bullfighter would be willing to give in to the perverse desires of people who can help him. Bullfighting is a tough, cut-throat business, and at the start of his career, a novice must pay for the privilege of fighting a bull. Inasmuch as most of the novices are poor, ignorant peons, they often pay with the only currency they possess-their bodies.
One of the great bullfighters (who must obviously remain anonymous) said, "Few-very, very few novilleros are good enough at the beginning to avoid the 'payment.' In Mexico or Spain, there is a lot of money involved. The torero must have his own 'suit of lights'-and in Mexico a used one costs many hundred pesos. In my country, Mexico, salaries are low, and money is difficult to come by. In Mexico City, where the wage scale is higher-and also the cost of living-policemen get twenty five pesos a day. A skilled construction worker or a steel man-he earns the same. By comparison, for a two-hour job, a torero can make as much as 50,000 pesos for an hour's work. So, senor, one can see why allowing the ass to be bored into, or taking a penis into the mouth can be a very good economic decision!"
He explained further, "Even to begin, a novice bullfighter needs such equipment as a cape, a muleta, sword, etc., and all these come high. He also needs helpers in the ring, and they do not work for nothing. Also, the novillero must have transportation to the ring-it all costs.
"And if he gets a chance and performs well-and is awarded an ear or a tail-who will know about it? A bullfighter draws according to how many of his exploits and graces, and in Mexico or Spain word of mouth is very slow-very slow. So? A bullfighter must pay the press and many writers if he wants to become known. Publicity is not free. A strong publicity campaign includes many photos of the novillero, and that means 'greasing many palms.' This 'greasing' costs $700 at a minimum and where is a poor novillero going to get that kind of money? There is one sure source: a wealthy homosexual patron.
"Tens of thousands of muchachos from all over Mexico want to be bullfighters for a lot of reasons. If they are poor, they hope to become rich; if they desire fame and adulation, they get it; if they are good and if they live long enough, they will eagerly offer themselves. There are thousands waiting outside every bull ring. A bullfighter may have talent, perseverance, luck and skill, but if he says no to the desires of an impresario, or even of an important newspaperman, he might as well forget to show up at the ring.
"Of course, if he becomes famous, then he can tell anyone to go jump into a sewer, but of all the thousands who try, only a handful ever make it to the top. The others? They become prostitutes. They must drink, carouse, and be charming bedfellows to any man who will pay the expense. His patron will be a man, make no romantic mistakes about that! Ah, yes-later, when he has reached the top-wealthy women will go to bed with him, but while he is a novillero, he will sleep with men, senor, if only because he doesn't have a peso to take a girl out, to wine and dine her. And, should he find a girl who seriously loves him for himself, he will find that he cannot consider marriage until he has the money and that comes from his patron, who will always insist that the would-be torero stop chasing women and settle down to the act of bullfighting. It is a vicious circle, you see.
"I was bright-eyed and hopeful when I came to my first bull ring, but, like all the others, I was also broke. Then I met the segundo to a famous manager and it was he who first took me to bed-merely to get a chance to talk with the manager!
"And he was not kind or tactful about it, let me tell you. He invited me to his room, assuming I knew the price. I was only fifteen, and I believed that women were made to be screwed-not men or boys! In the small village where I lived, I had screwed a few girls who liked it, but now sex means to me the thousand and one pricks that I have tasted and had stuck into my ass!
"That first time I stood there with my hat in my hand, and he looked at me as if I were stupid! 'Well? ' he barked, motioning toward my trousers, 'Get them off!' Even then I thought he wanted to see if my legs were strong and I peeled off my pants quickly. I wore no underwear, and when he, saw my cock his mouth almost watered. He had me turn around, and when I did he told me to bend over. He came close and spread the cheeks of my ass, making little sounds of pleasure as he inspected my ass-hole. Meantime, he was taking off his pants, and he led me to the bed. There, he pushed me down on my back and began to stroke my cock. When it grew hard, he teased the head of it with his tongue and lips. All the while, he was masturbating, and when his cock was big and round and stiff, he moved up and spread my legs. He put a huge pillow under my hips and put my legs up over his shoulders while he knelt between my legs. From this position, he could penetrate my ass-hole while he jerked my prick.
"When he shoved it in, I almost screamed with pain, but I did not want him to think that a coward had dared dream of facing the brave bulls, so I swallowed my scream and let him jab me. He did not use any salve or vaseline or soap, but in a few moments he had shot his juice inside me and the lubrication of that helped as he finished his ass-fuck the second time.
"In spite of the pain, I came in his hand as he jerked my throbbing prick. After he had come a second time, he withdrew his cock from my ass and climbed upward, so he was straddling my face. Then he put the slimy, cruddy, wet prick that he had just withdrawn from my ass-hole, in my mouth. He was a big man, strong and evil-looking, and by now I knew fear. What could I do but let him fuck me in the mouth?
"When he was through, he sucked my cock until I came again, and then he told me to wait while he paid a call on the manager. I was confused. I had enjoyed parts of the last hour, and I still dreamed big dreams.
"He returned in fifteen minutes with the 'great one' and I was still naked, lying on the bed, when they came in. I think the manager was even more brutal than his segundo. He first made me take his cock into my mouth, and then he fucked me in the ass. After that, he made me get on my hands and knees and, while el segundo fucked me in the ass, the manager fucked me in the mouth. From the same position, with me on hands and knees, the manager corn-holed me while the second man slid underneath me and sucked me until I came. The last thing that day was the 'chain' with each of us sucking another's prick.
"But it was worth it, I suppose, for the manager got me my chance to show my courage and my little skill and later, he introduced me to the impresario, who, in turn, found me a wealthy patron.
"The first months were a nightmare of sex. I wondered if I would ever see the inside of a bull ring. The patron was a breeder of bulls, and he took me to his rancho. It was during testing time, when the bulls are tested for their bravery. Because I had proven my own abilities in bed, I was allowed to cape the fine bulls and while I waited my chance, every hand and straw boss on the place made me pay-with my mouth and my ass-hole!
"The patron was a man who also enjoyed watching sex orgies. He would sit there, watching two men use me at the same time, while another novillero sucked him off.
"Strangely, this is never mentioned by any of the bullfighters, the handlers, the attendants or newsmen. It is as if the situation did not exist, but it is as much a part of the fiesta brava as are the bulls. The fans know it, too, but they ignore it because it would not be right to cheer for and pay to see a brave man face and kill the bulls when, in reality, he is not a man but one who has been used as a woman.
"In his novel, The Wounds of Hunger, Luis Spota, one of Mexico's most popular and famous writers, tells of the homosexuality among bullfighters, far better than I can. Most bullfighters have read the book, but most react the same as one rising torero did when he said, 'It is a morbid novel. All that was done was to pick out isolated, strange happenings, such as homosexuality, and make everyone believe that this is what bullfighters are really like.'
"But the incidents are not isolated, senor. They happen every day, because the world of the bullfighter contains many homosexuals. I should know. On Sunday afternoon, when I see a poor performance by an inept bullfighter, I shrug and say that it is only natural, because the torero probably did not earn his place in the ring by his skills nor by long training, but merely by being amiable-very friendly-in the beds of many men.
"Naturally, as I climbed to the top and became a successful torero, I was no longer forced to submit to many men. But, by that time, force was not needed. I was driven by my cultivated love of the tender ass-hole of a young boy, or the feel of soft, wet lips around the head of my cock. When I was starring at the fiesta brava, I had a special love-a young lad of fifteen, built like a girl-slim hips, smooth skin, and the most beautiful little prick! But, in all my years, he was the only one that I managed to keep to myself. The others, like myself, were cut up and parceled out, piece by piece. Everyone connected with the bullfight game demands a piece of everything-the money, the glory, the body.
"Usually, when an impresario or my manager would bring me a nice young boy, they would have already taken his cherry, and we would have all-together sex. I never had a manager who was not homosexual, and to my best beliefs, I never worked for an impresario who was not a bisexual at least.
"Me and women? There have been few for me. It has been my own fault, I suppose. I never gave a woman a real chance to show me what pleasure might be found in the female organ. Always I insisted, and had my way, that our intercourse be just as it was with all the males I'd loved: either in the mouth or the ass-hole. Oh, I've tried a cunt, here and there, but I can honestly say that I have never truly experienced the full, satisfying orgasm that I do with males-especially the young males. It is difficult to describe the feeling, senor. that comes when one looks down on a young boy on his knees before you, with his soft, sweet lips around your cock. And when he spreads his ass cheeks and reveals the inviting, tight, beautiful, brown ass-hole-ah! No woman could match the thrills, senor-no woman!"
Juan is a bartender in Tijuana. Once he had dreams of winning fame and riches as a torero. Those dreams are gone. Juan told us his story only because he was paid for it. Juan does everything for only one reason: to survive. He is about thirty, still slim, with the graceful body of the torero; but now Juan has the mannerisms and the soft lisp of so many homosexuals.
"Ah, yes, I was once a novillero, but no more than that. It was not the brave bulls that led to my downfall, but the-as you say-cocksuckers and the ass-lovers.
"It began when I was sixteen; a fresh-eyed boy from Sonora, who dreamed the big dream. It did not just begin with the leeches in Tijuana. It started earlier when I ran away from my home, and made my way across the brown hills to this city.
"I persuaded one of the workers, who helps with the hauling of the bull's carcass from the ring, to take me along for the first fight of the season. He was a frustrated bullfighter, just as I am today, and I paid my fare across the hills in his battered old Ford by agreeing to let him fuck me in the ass. Then, fifty miles before we reached Tijuana, he dumped me out. I walked the last miles thinking that this was just a bad man possessed of the devil.
"When I arrived, I was starving, but I was excited by the sight of the arena, the crowds of people and the emotion in the air. I begged some food and I hung around the bull ring. Miracle of miracles-I got a job! It was that of the 'runner'-a boy who puts a pair of horns on his head and runs to give the novice experience in dodging the cruel horns.
"How'd I get the job? By baring my little-boy behind and allowing three novilleros to take turns at sticking their pricks up my ass-hole. And when the day was over, they asked if I wanted to work again the next day. When they offered me a ticket-in the shade-for the coming corrida, I leaped at the chance, even knowing what was to come. That night, there were many in the room behind the cantina. There were several boys my age and younger, and there were older men in imagine silk suits; and, lo and behold, there were two of my biggest heroes-famous toreros I had only seen posters of before.
"I was glad to submit my ass to them, and later to have the honor of taking the cock of my hero in my mouth and sucking it until he came. All the while, the others were having a fiesta of sex in that little room. A dozen men and boys, screwing, changing partners, panting with passion, switching partners again, endlessly....
"I was invited to join the entourage of one of the toreros. It was my job to keep his cape and swords clean and bright, and to see that his 'suit of lights' was always spotless and waiting for him before he entered the ring and faced the 'moment of truth.'
"And I was always a part of the party that came afterwards, when the ones who were close to him gathered to drink tequila, and to relax with the bodies of others. I grew to love my matador. I was proud to sink down on my knees and suck him even in front of all our friends. And he repaid me by paving the way for me to become a picador-and I thought I was on my way to becoming a great torero.
"But fate was against me. On my first day, I was gored. Half of my stomach was torn by the cruel horns, and my matador paid for the doctor and the hospital. He still comes to see me, even though he long ago retired in Mexico City. And, we still go to bed. Often, he honors me by bringing with him some promising young toreros, and they honor me and him at the same time. Do you understand me? My matador still thinks I am one of the best, and he wants the young ones to learn sex from me!
"A bad life? No, a full one, for I am with the people I love most-those who live in the world of 'el toro.' I have no regrets. I am grateful to God for the chance to be one of this world. I have never loved a woman, but many, many men...! "
Of interest is the comment of Dr. Manuel Ortega, famed Mexican psychologist, concerning the high incidence of homosexuality and collective sex orgies among the bullfight crowd.
"Basically, at the beginning," he says, "it is a question of the boy being willing to do anything for his chance at fame, to have steady meals, and later, money. After that, I am convinced that there are a number of contributing factors.
"For example: psychiatrists have advanced the theory that most successful bullfighters are possessed of a strong 'death wish' as Freud describes it. I agree, in part. But my studies with homosexuals-especially with bullfighters-leads me to conclude that there is something else equally as strong. First it is purely and simply an experience of sex; then it becomes a habit. I am sure that if these young men were to have had solid, meaningful, early sex experiences with a girl they loved, they might be able to fight off homosexuality."