Archive Note: Efforts have been made to remove any errors in the following text caused by the process of creating this E-book. In the interests of authenticity, the remaining misspellings--however unlikely though they seem to be--are the author's mistakes or typesetting errors. They were left as found in the original pocketbook.
CHAPTER ONE
They shared common parents. They did not share common environmental upbringing.
Under an unusual court ruling, Randy was awarded to his father, while Sandy was placed in the custody of his mother.
The concrete cavern of New York, with the help of an avant garde father, molded Randy to an easy acceptance of the unusual in life. During the same period of growth, in a rural mid-western farm community, Sandy delved no farther away from the usual example of clean-cut American boyhood than an occasional "damn," or a twice a month bout of masturbation under the sheets. He was greatly influenced by a mid-Victorian thinking mother and community.
Randy would taste the fruits of the sexual tree at the green age of fifteen. Sandy would have to wait until he had passed that manhood designated age of twenty-one.
Neither parent remarried. If they had, this story might never have been possible. The first generation was the catalyctic agent that forged a promiscuous second generation.
To Randy, his father was an unknown. He sel-don saw him during his first fifteen years. His life was a series of boarding schools and private tutors. He knew more about the butler than he did his 'old man."
Home was an attractive Park Avenue penthouse. His room was constantly remodeled to fit his growing moods. He had free rein of the eight rooms of luxury, except for his father's den. Randy always felt that there was an 'except' in life. It was his only musing mystery.
It was to this room that his father would bring some of his guests. It was a private domain. It was utterly sound-proof. Randy could attest to this, as he had on several occasions tried to listen at the doorway.
A grey-snowy-Sunday can seem like the end of the world to a middle teenager. Especially when your errant father is away; it's the butler's day off; and there is not a damn thing to do. Listlessly Randy roamed from room to room. Every thing had a place and was in that place. In the butler's room the tidiness was almost maddening. You could measure the layout of each article and hanging uniform and they would not vary from day to day.
Today there was a jarring note. Atop the dresser lay a ring of keys. Very much out of keeping with the ordinary. Only one key, of the many, excited Randy's fancy. It gleemed brighter than all the rest. The key to the den.
It was an invitation that could not be passed up.
The room was windowless. Randy's feet sank deep into the richly piled carpet. The walls housed a rich treasure of "underground" art. Randy recognized the face, if not the nude body, of the centrally placed painting. The young actor had been a house guest many times. Randy had almost jumped with alarm as he had snapped on the lights and spied this masterpiece. It was life size and three dimensional. He was surprised to find that he found it a thing of beauty and not a thing of disgust. He stared so long at the handsome face, glistening body and erect penis, that he found his own cock beginning to take on new dimensions.
The remaining "gallery" collection was an assemblage of normal and abnormal tastes of the human race in the sexual field. After attending many boarding schools, Randy was not immune to the knowledge of sex, just the practice thereof. The paintings erased his rudimentary misconceptions and replaced it with visual teaching. He had been vaguely aware that men were capable of sexual congress. The exact type of oral and anal penetration had been clouded in mystery. The paintings answered all questions he could ever have had on the subject.
Having sated himself on the paintings, Randy turned his attentions next to the heavily laden book cases. All manner of erotic reading material was here enshelved. Fiction, Non-fiction. Pictorial. He determined it would take him years to read his way through this mass of pornography and scat-ology. He was determined to make a manful try, on this one and only opportunity that he may have to get inside this closely guarded den of perversion.
Randy made himself at home. The sofa-bed became his reading couch. He finally found that the best position was to nestle his head among a pile of pillows and sit with his legs hanging over the side. This afforded his constantly hardening and softening cock not to get entangled in his shorts.
So many times had he taken the erect member out to play with it, that it became a bother. He finally discarded the shorts altogether and sat with only his slacks on, and the zipper thereof undone.
Randy had helped himself so liberally of the bar liquids that he was feeling fairly giddy by late afternoon.
His latent desire for things sexual was apparent in the number of times that he would just finish beating his meat, read a new provocative chapter; and have the flesh come back to throbbing life.
He had always been secretly proud of the size of his cock. He had been told once by an older boy in school that, he was "well hung." Only now he could determine why the lad had eyed his cock, in the shower, so covetously. Randy recalled this scene, in his mind, as he read of a similar scene between two young men. By the fantasy of mind over matter, the two young men in the written page became himself and the ogling school chum. By suplanting himself into the story, he was able to bring an arousement to his groin that had a stimulating meaning. So engrossed he was in his world of dreams that he did not hear the outside door of the apartment open and close.
Karl Smithson was alarmed to see light cascading from the open door of his sanctuary. When he spied his son on the couch bed, deep in reverie, he almost exploded.
The manner in which the lad was spotlighted kept the bark stilled in his throat. He had never given much thought to watching his son grow up. He still thought of him as a mere child. The manner in which his sons' manliness was draped behind the open-flapped pants, told him that years had slipped away.
Silently he closed and locked the door behind him.
Randy did not hear the door, he sensed the invasion of his privacy. His clear blue eyes narrowed in fright as they saw the looming handsome figure across the room. He had always admired the rough masculinity of his father's face and body. He also had always held an unanswerable fear of the man.
Karl Smithson had come up the hard way, in the Oklahoma oil fields. He was first, last, and always, still a rough-neck. Although now always dressed in stylish suits and in the millionaire class, no one discounted the fact that he would probably still be able to break a man in two with his own hands. Randy was the first to acknowledge this fact.
"I hope you have an explanation for this intrusion of my privacy," Karl said simply.
"There was no one at home," Randy croaked ineffectually.
"Is that an excuse or an alibi?" Karl moved out of the shadows and to the spotlite bed area. "I guess ... hic ... an ... hic ... alibi."
"My God! Are you drunk as well?"
"I think ... hic ... maybe ... hic ... so."
"Well, I'll be a son-of-a-bitch!" Karl sat down on the bed with a sigh. He could not help but let his eyes roam again over the firm erection, that had not diminished in size. Karl sniffed. "Damn! How many times have you jacked off? This place smells like a bordello."
"I haven't...." Randy started lamely.
"Shit! Don't try to lie out of it I can still smell. How long have you been in here?"
"Since about two."
"Two? Do you realize that it is almost twelve midnight? No you wouldn't," Karl answered his own rhetorical question. "I can see that you have been most busy with my library. Is this your first visit to this room?"
"Yes, sir," Randy answered sheepishly. He tried to hide his erection with the book he had been reading. It was a strange move, as the book was open to a double spread picture of three sailors in a ship's shower stall. Both father and son were acutely aware of the contents of the photo. The black sailor stood with his arms stretched to the stainless steel ceiling. White rivers of water coursed down his ebony body. A blonde headed youth crouched in front of him. His mouth was ovalled out as it accepted the first portion of the stiff black shaft. A third figure was lying prone on the water drenched floor. His legs were outside of the both. Between the legs of the squatting boy he had crawled. To the cock sucker he was giving equal oral pleasure. The fact that it was an actual photograph made it that much more of a stimulus.
"Has that every happened to you?" the father asked calmly as he pointed to the picture.
"No, sir!" Randy answered truthfully.
"Have you participated in any of things you might have seen or read about this afternoon and evening?"
"No, sir!" Randy was ashamed to admit his shortcomings, but knew he had best answer with the bare facts.
"Well," Karl was momentarily at a loss as to how to handle the situation. He took the book away from his son. 'Too little knowledge is just about as bad as too much." He figured in his own mind that he was overly educated on abnormal sexuality, and faced a son that was void of carnal knowledge, save for what he had gained in these few hours.
"I do not want you," Karl continued after a pause, "to think that you now have a free license to go from this room and try out your new found knowledge."
Randy didn't answer.
"Your silence would lead me to believe that the thought, therefore, has crossed your mind to take the next step in experimentation."
Again he was confronted by an embarrassed silence.
"Perhaps this is really my fault, son. I guess I should have sat with you before this, and had the normal little talk about the birds and the bees. What you have seen and read here today is rather far from that field. This library is rather heavily loaded with the homosexual element in life. I'm not sure I want you to over stimulate your mind with this type of knowledge, until you have had an opportunity to know the full meaning of the heterosexual ways of sexual intercourse."
"Is this wrong?"
"I don't know if I am the right person to answer that For me it is not. For others it would be. I cannot answer for you. Each must make up their own minds as they progress in life."
Karl was torn between two thoughts. He wanted to advise his son to run. Run fast, before the bug bit with unquenchable lust. The second voice was the loudest. He looked at the slack clad body with renewed interest. The manner in which the boy lay upon the pillows and couch was sexually appealing. Again and again his eyes would dart back to the tube that stretched almost to the belt band. It had lost its firmness, but no is length. His mind was torn asunder with desire. Cautiously he placed his hand just above his son's knee.
"Do you understand?"
"Not really. If it is not wrong for you to do these things, and I gather that you must do them or you would not have all of this," his arms made a sweep of the room, "then why is it wrong for me?"
"Age, for one reason. You're fifteen, I'm thirty-five."
"But, I'm already a man down there!" Randy snapped poutishly.
Karl could not discount this fact. The boy was more than a man in the genital department. If he had not been prematurely developed in that department, Karl would have ended this tete-a-tete when he first entered the door. That size was his hangup did not help him to dampen his ardor and incestuous lusting for his son.
Karl had been ham-strung by narrow minded parents and an unfortunate marriage to a Bible-pounding, legs-locked-together wife. He did not want to be a redactor on the boy's life.
It was an impossible situation. There was no withdrawl. Unthinkingly his hand began to caress the trembling thigh. His eyes did not leave the tented flap area. The more the hand ran up and down the leg, the harder the erection was becoming. He knew that their minds were working in the same channel. He wanted to do his son, and the son was quite willing to taste of his first blow job. There was still a chance of escape, as long as he did not touch the pleading cock.
"This is just like it was in one of the books," Randy whispered in conspiratorial tones.
"Tell me about it," Karl matched his tone. He knew that if his son recreated the story, then he could give it real life meaning, without feeling too much guilt.
"This young boy, like me, went to a drive-in movie with his uncle. The boy didn't know much about life. He had seen things printed on bathroom walls and had seen crude pictures of one man with his mouth full of another's cock. He didn't know what it all meant. All he knew was that it was dirty, and that excited him. No one had ever approached him. But, each time he would go to a downtown movie, he would flit from one stall to another, to read the words and look at the drawings. When his uncle put his hand on his knee, he thought he knew what his uncle wanted. As the hand travelled up his leg, his cock began to stiffen. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, as if he were asleep." Randy let his head sink back into the pillows and he closed his eyes as he became the boy in the story.
"He could hear the movie, but his mind was concentrating on the slow advance of the hand. When the hand got to the top of his thigh and started to inch toward his groin, he knew that he had guessed correctly. He almost went wild when the little finger first made contact with his stiffness. He stretched out his legs, so that the hand could rub over the entire object." Randy pushed his legs out farther and Karl let his hand rub over his entire cock length. Randy sighed, as the boy had sighed.
"The uncle took the boy's pants apart. He wasn't wearing any shorts. The hand slid under the cloth and enclosed around the boy's cock. The boy shuddered from excitement. The uncle began to jack him off." Karl followed suit.
"This wasn't really what the boy wanted. He wanted to see what it felt like to be sucked. His mind was flooded with memory of the drawing. He raised his hips, so the pants could be pushed off his waist."
Randy raised his own hips. Karl tugged the pants away from the stiff member. It stood straight out from the body in willing readiness.
"The uncle began to kiss his legs. The lips came up the under side of his balls. The boy gasped. He turned his body more toward his uncle. The uncle got down so he could kneel on the car floor." Karl was now kneeling before his son.
"Again the uncle began to kiss. All the way up the legs he came, with his tongue licking on the flesh. The boy was in heaven as the tongue washed all over his balls. Then it started up the cock. Around and around it washed, until it came to the hard head. The uncle opened his mouth and put it over the very top. His tongue circled all around the head as the mouth dropped lower. The more the mouth sucked, the more the tongue would roam around on the sensitive spots.
"Oh, Karl, that feels so damn good! I know how the boy felt now. He wanted his uncle to keep sucking him forever. After he came the first time he didn't put it away. A few minutes later he asked the uncle to suck him off again. I can see why he did."
"I feel so funny. This is better than when I jack off. Here it comes, Karl. Oh, Damn. It tickles so! My God! It feels like you're swallowing me. Stop! Stop! I can't take anymore."
Karl was not about to stop. He knew that Randy had liked it. This had set him on fire. He had to keep the tube in his mouth, while his own hand was pumping himself to a climax.
It was not the only time that the father and son spent time together in the locked room. Nor was the father the only outlet that the son allowed himself as the years passed.
To record any similar congress for the other brother, would be misleading. His first twenty-one years were so common and dull that it would be a waste of paper to even try and recapture them.
Let us just say that he grew to maturity with nothing more than probably a single roll hi the hay, with a pimply farm girl, to his credit. If asked, he probably couldn't even remember if he had come.
All knowledge of each other, and about each other, had been carefully kept from the twins.
That the non-corresponding parents should pick the same college for them to attend is not surprising, when you consider that it was on this same campus that the parents had met as undergraduates.
CHAPTER TWO
Like two peas in a pod is a non sequitur that is most misleading. Who ever heard of a pod giving up with only two peas embedded in its emerald green covering?
The womb is another matter. It oft times gives the world a gentle jolt by producing a set of look-a-likes that even keep the parents guessing throughout life as to which twin has the Toni.
Even when identical twins are separated for twenty-one years they are none-the-less inseparable.
When you reunite twins, and give them two years of living together in college, then once again they become a single unit. Where Randy had been a mite thin and pale, he filled out and took on the southwestern tan. Sandy had been beef fed. The sparse college diet trimmed him down and the tan of farm field work was replaced with the softer tan of the weekend lake sunner.
Each felt that their parents had dealt them a fake hand, from the bottom of the deck. Then again, they could not fully decide which parent they would have preferred growing up together with. The final outcome was that they came to the conclusion that the past was passed and they at elast were together for the future.
Upon graduation they made their own plans, without benefit of parental guidance.
For some unknown biological reason, twins-identical twins-seems to be a great rarity in Mexico. Perhaps the rapid rabbit fashion that is the Mexican trademark for sexual dalliance never gives the seed an opportunity to be planted twice or to split.
Identical twins, therefore, are a stare-at item in Old Mexico. This is even truer if the twins happen to be norte americano and are very, very blonde. So blonde that they remind one of the splashy, sexy, billboards that proclaim that you can't enjoy life unless you are a "summer blond."
In the case of Randy and Sandy, it was not a bottle, but sun and natural coloring that had produced the shimmering straw of hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. The fine strands on the arms and legs were almost invisible in their whiteness. In the pubic department, it was like a mass of raw, white, silk threads, that had been shot through with flecks of gold.
Nestled below the two heads of curly blondness, which was the envy of most women that they met, sat four lakes of the purest blue. These eyes were capable of looking into you, through you and far beyond you. They did it with such swiftness that you were left standing with the instantaneous impression that you were naked.
If you were male, the searching poodle dog look eminated from Randy.
If you possessed the proper female attributes, and they were all in their proper places, with the proper size, shape and exuded a feminine "come and take me," then you were being ogled by Sandy. He may have been very late in finding his thirst for the truly heterosexual experience, but when he was fully versed in the difference between male and female and how the plugs fit properly together, then he made up for wasted years.
Each boy knew of the sexual tastes of the other. They became more compatible, in not being competitors.
At twenty-four (they were actually born four minutes apart) they remained unattached and venturesome. They had come to Mexico for a two weeks stay. That had been a year ago.
As tourists they drank deeply of the sights and sounds of Mexico City, Acapulco de Juarez and Guadalajara. As potential investors they were more interested in the coming growth of Mazatlan and Guaymas.
To the latter they finally gave their nod of approval. It was still a small community, yet, less than 100 kilometers from Hermosillo and it's airport. By car it was less than a four hour drive from Tucson, Arizona.
It nestled under a desert mountain range, so that the air was clear, dry and ever summer hot. Labor was cheap and willing.
On a clear day, and most were, the Sierra de la Giganta range jutted purple fingers out of the azure brightness of the Golfo de California. At night, across this same water expanse, you could see the shimmering lights of Santa Rosalia, on the Baja California Sur.
Casa de Vaso belied it's name. It was not a house of glass, but a very respectable adobe brick mansion. Granted, the huge sheets of glass in the main sala and dining room did give one an excellent view of the Cabo Haro. The remaining windows were in keeping with the Spanish architecture of the building; deeply set in 18 inch blocks of adobe.
By Acapulco standards it was a farce, as a tourist hotel. But, it was what the boys had wanted. A home for themselves, plus it was able to take no more than ten to twelve paying guests at a time. If the guests were all young marrieds, then they could accomodate as high as twenty. This would never happen, as their main interest was attracting the interesting single crowd to the Casa.
They had picked the small staff with great care. Marianna, had worked for twelve years in the finest hotel kitchens in Phoenix and Tucson. She could put the best of Spanish or American dishes upon the dining rooms tables, and still feed her own family of six children, without going over the budget.
Her oldest daughter, Luisa, got the nod for the position as house maid. She was lazy and slovenly. That she could have been the center, fold-out section, of a Mexican type "Playboy" magazine was the only thing that kept her from being fired daily. She was there to be seen, more than for the work that she could accomplish.
This was primarily true of Miguel as well. He liked to be called Mike. He was a good worker and handled his duties as driver and boat tender with great skill and pride.
The greatest contribution that Mike made to the Casa, was Mike himself. Like his whole family, he was a fisherman. His skin was ripened to a chestnut hue. His medium sized frame was a rolling series of gnarled muscles, that were used to pulling in the sienes. Mike had a great love for white, American, levi pants and loud print shirts. The former was worn several sizes too small and always gave the impression that the cobra housed in his groin was forever coiled, ready to spring. The many hued shirts were always worn unbuttoned. The front flaps were tied in a loose knot just above his navel. It added to his sexual aura.
Mike was dressed in this fashion when he had applied for the job. The city was abuzz that the gringo look-a--likes were not building a home for themselves, "but a casa for turistas." Everyone knew that the "norte americanos" paid good wages. Everyone applied for the few jobs open.
Sandy had taken care of the hiring of the female components, while the choice of the male contingent was left in the lecherous hands of Randy. He knew what he was looking for. There would be many gay customers from the states. The boys who worked on the premises had to be sexually exciting for this type of clientele.
Randy had spent almost a full day in weeding through the ordinary young men of Guaymas, and points north and south.
Mike came into the room sheepishly. He knew that his English was not of the first order. He relaxed when Randy conducted the interview in flawless Spanish.
Each prior applicant had taken no more than five to ten minutes. It took just this long for Randy to get over his first shock of seeing the young man and getting the essential questions put to him.
"Why do you wish to give up fishing?" Randy asked as he poured them each a Mexican beer.
"Each year there are more fishermen. Each year there are less fish. If fewer fish, then fewer pesos. My papa is poor fisherman. I too would become poor fisherman."
"Do you expect to make your fortune working for us."
"No, senor. Someday our city will be beautiful like the Ciudad of Acapulco, which I have only seen in pictures. When we get big hotels, then Karlos Miguel Antonio Perez Reno is ready to work for them, from the training he receives under your capable hands."
If Randy had not liked the boy already, this was the clincher. He knew that the boy would work hard to learn, for he had a dream. In this land it was the dreamer that always got ahead.
"This shall not be the usual type of hotel, Miguel."
The black eyes looked at him quizzically.
"Many times we shall have all male guests. Other times male and female. We want them to feel that they can do what they want to do, without interference. They shall all be young and full of life. What they do shall be nobodies business in the city. Do you understand?"
"Si, Don Randy."
"If I give you the job it will pay 625 pesos per month and room and board."
"Caramba!" His eyes flared in surprised. At eight cents to the peso, that totaled $700 per year. The average income was about $412. As a fisherman he probably earned half of that amount. Randy wasn't being generous. Secrecy has it's price.
"Would you like to see the room you would live in, if you get the job?
"Si! Si, si, senor." The carrot has been placed in front of the rabbit's nose. The smell of gold is a heady aroma.
For a native accustomed to a dirt floor, a straw pallet, and sharing one room with parents and brothers and sisters, this was a vast kingdom.
Behind the Casa had been constructed a servant's house. To one of the rooms Randy had taken Mike. It would be small by American standards. A single bed took up one whole wall. The wood floor was covered with throw rugs. There was a small dresser and a desk with stool for a chair.
It was a magic world, for Mike. He could already picture his few clothes hanging on the pegs, behind the door. His bare feet ate hungrily as they felt of the softness of the rugs.
His voice did not give off full surprise until he opened the only other door in the room. He could not believe that he would have a bathroom all to his own use. It was not elaborate, but to his normal surroundings it was the Waldorf. The fishing hut, in which he had been born, had only an out house. His knowledge of a bath was a wooden tub, or a dip in the bay. Lovingly he ran his hands over the smooth surface of the hand bowl. Running water. Hot and cold. Even water in the sit-seat to flush away.
Randy laughed at the boy's apparent lack of knowledge about a shower. After the explanation, Mike could also picture himself with the streams of water shooting onto his shoulders.
Mike had only one gnawing fear in the back of his mind. What if he didn't get the job? This was his dream. He just had to do everything right so that this room and all that money would be his.
Luckily he had learned how to drive an automobile. As far as his duties on the fishing boat, for the guests, he had the highest qualifications.
Randy sat on the stool and motioned the boy to sit upon the bed. He wanted him to get used to the-feel of it's soft luxury.
"Those who go to work for me will have to be-very truthful."
"Si, Don Randy."
"On the paper you say that you are twenty-three. Is that correct?"
"Que!"
"Anos."
"Nada. I have but nineteen." The boy's face showed that he thought the dream was quickly fading.
"Good! I do not want anyone too old working for me." An even broader smile came back to Mike's face. "Now I am going to get personal with my questions, Mike. I do not want you to lie to me. If you tell the truth the job is yours. If you tell me a lie and I find out that you have lied, then you shall never work again in this hotel and I can see to it that you will not be able to work in any of the other new hotels when they are built."
Miguel knew this to be true. The gringos all stuck together.
"Do you have any sickness from the woman?"
"No, senor. I do not play with the women much. I do not wish to start a family so soon. The pay girls are not always clean. Also, Miguel does not have the pesos to get a pay girl."
"Do you masturbate"
The boy hung his head. "Si, senor. As much as all boys my age."
"Have you ever laid with a man?"
"No! Oh, no, senor. Miguel is not that kind of boy."
"Would you do it if one of our male guests asked you to?" Randy had come to the dangerous question. He wanted his gay customers to be happy, but not at the expense of letting the whole town know what was going on in the Casa. The boy had been caught unaware by the question. The thought had never entered his mind. He knew that there were such type men, but mostly in Mexico City or Acapulco. Only once in his life had he ever run across a queer, and that had been when he was eight. His older brother Ramon had taken him to Nogales for a visit to a doctor. The doctor was more expensive than they had anticipated. Ramon had let a young, dark haired gringo come to their cheap hotel room. As Miguel had crouched, terrified, in the corner, Ramon had lowered his pants and let the gringo kneel in front of him. Miguel could still picture in his mind the way that part of his brother had disappeared into the gringo's mouth.
When it was over the gringo had paid Ramon money, and they had gone back to the doctor. Ramon had chided the boy to such silence, about the matter, that Miguel had always figured that what had happened had been terribly, terribly evil.
He had grown up with this fear in the back of his brain.
Now, this fear was eating him alive. He didn't know what answer to give Randy. If he said yes, he would let a guest have him in bed, that might cost him the job. It he said no, that also might make his prospective employer angry.
"In all things, Don Randy, I will only do those things that you tell me I must or must not do." He had skirted the issue with diplomacy. It was to Randy's liking. He could keep a much stronger hold over the lad.
"Then if I told you to do such a thing, you might?"
Mike felt trapped in his own words. He could only nod. He wanted this room so bad he would even do that to get it.
"Good! Now, to other matters. Would you mind taking off your clothes so that I might inspect you?"
Mike did not hesitate. The job was almost his. He cast aside the simple shirt and stepped out of the pants. As he did so his peter came falling forward. He wore no shorts. He did not seem to be embarrassed standing nude in the room. Randy locked the door.
Randy felt of the wide shoulder muscles. He could feel his own cock begin to take on life as his hands roamed over the beautiful masculine body.
There was a circle of fine black hair around each tit. This joined and was a single line down to where it flowed into the jet jungle of pubic hair. The ball sac hung loose, attesting to the truth that it was little used.
It was the cock itself that made Randy tremble inside. It hung loosely, a good seven inches down the leg.
Randy squatted in front of the lad and ran his hands down the outside of his legs. It was only when he brought his hands to the inner flesh that he could feel a bit of tension in the muscles. As his hands came up the inside of the legs they hardened into tubes of steel. He looked up into the rough hewn face. It did not show anger. The eyes were closed and the lips firmly set. Randy pressed farther up and molded the balls in his hands. Mike jerked, but did not pull away.
Randy crouched lower. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth. The soft head was but inches away.
Mike gasped as the first part of his soft cock was pulled into the mouth.
To Randy it was a strange experience. Always before the cocks he had taken had been fully primed before he had allowed them to penetrate his mouth. This tube was extra warm and soft. He let his lips open and close on the pliable head. At first there was no reaction. He pushed the soft shaft further into his cavity. His tongue mouthed over the sensitive skin. A fraction at a time the thing started to come to life. He could actually feel it growing in his mouth. It set his mind on fire. The boy was really getting aroused. He sucked deeper. More blood was pumped into the extension. Randy dropped his head lower and then slowly pulled it back to the base of the head. Mike moaned deep in his throat. Randy recharged. This time the cock had grown to it's full length. Randy could not take it all the way in this position. It was just too long. It had also doubled in girth and he had to fight to get his mouth ovalled enough to encompass the form.
Randy crouched lower and reared his head back. With a great swallow he could feel the immense cock fight past the base of his tongue. The boy was well into him. He clamped his hands on the firm butt and pulled the body even farther forward. The slender hips took up the pumping action.
Randy continued to swallow as the cock was pounded in and out of his throat. Strong hands locked at the back of his head and fought to pull him even farther onto the pylon.
The discharge was massive. Randy could barely control his acceptance of the flow. He was weak when he pulled away. He motioned for Mike to help himself to the shower.
"Did I do good for you, Don Randy?" he asked as he came back into the room, wiping himself with a towel.
"Very good," Randy smiled.
"I think it was not what I thought it would be. I think Mike liked it." Mike knew that if he played his last ace correctly, this room and this job would be his. He pulled the towel out front of his body. His cock was standing straight out from the pelvis, just as if it had not just recently come.
"I think I would like to have you do that again."
"Now?" Randy asked incredulously.
"It is ready."
Randy did not hesitate. He motioned for the lad to join him on the bed. This time he was going to take his time and savor every portion of that wonderfully long prick.
CHAPTER THREE
If Randy had started out with misgiving about Miguel, Sandy did not share the same opinion regarding Luisa.
The girl had not come into his office, she had slunk in. She was not beautiful, he decided immediately. Instead she possessed that dark sultry quality that had been driving men insane since woman had learn of the power of sex.
She was as sure of the worth of her body, as was the owner of the Hope diamond of its commercial value.
Hollywood was full of her type. That's why she stayed home. In Guaymas she was one of a kind. She had had enough of America as she grew up, following her mother from hotel job, to hotel job. In America she was a "spick." Here she was a queen...." and that just about concludes what duties you will have." Sandy leaned back in his chair. He held a pencil between his fingers, in what he felt was an executive pose.
"And nothing more?" she asked in perfect English.
"What did you have in mind?" He smiled meaningfully.
"What ... did you have in mind?" she leered at him through her thick dark lashes.
"Well ... ah ... ," he stammered.
"I'm a big girl now, Senor Smithson." She rose. Stretched. Proved her point, and walked towards him. "If there are other things expected of me I would wish to know then now."
"Some of the guests might wish ... ah ... to ... ah," he began lamely.
Luisa was standing beside him. Her rich black eyes flashed with a hidden fire. The red painted nails arched out and grabbed a handful of his hair. Violently she reared his head back. Her mouth was partially open as it came directly in contact with his own. Her tongue pressed into his mouth and darted with swift flecks, as her lips moved passionately over his own.
"Is that part of my duties?"
"Well ... it ... could...."
Her mouth would not allow him to complete a sentence. "And this?"
"Ungh-hugh!"
"And this ... and this ... and this?" Luisa worked her mouth down over the chest as she torn away the shirt. She gave him a devilish grin just before she locked her teeth onto his cock. He could feel the sharp edge of the enamel through the cloth. Sandy tried to rise.
"No, senor. This is my interview. You are here to but judge my performance." Luisa loosened his stiff member from the pants. The full skirt was raised to her waist.
Sandy didn't even get a good look at her cunt before she slid onto his lap and was guiding them into an embrace. It was her ballgame. She was content to be pitcher, catcher, batter and umpire.
The sandaled feet barely reached the floor. Her toes afforded just enough leverage to spring her body upward and then let it fall forward and down onto the hard cock.
Luisa began to berathe faster. Her lips pursued in the act of kissing. Her eyes were closed. Up and down she went, back and forth. She was the giver and taker. A tremor shook her tanned body. Sandy grabbed tight to her waist, feeling that she had reached a climax without him. He was to learn that Luisa was a girl of many orgasms.
There was but a momentary pause before her body again took up the imperceptible rhythm of fornication. This time she asked for some assistance to bring her fire to fruition. One of the large tan breasts was popped from the blouse and forced into Sandy's gaping mouth. He was like a calf going for and udder. It also gave him something to concentrate upon.
He was like a robot. His body was pinned to the chair, while the tight cunt gulped away at his manhood. He would rather have had her prone, but was not about to alter positions when he could feel the fluid rising from the sac.
Even with a mouthful of tit he was able to get out an involuntary gasp as his release came. He knew that Luisa had experienced her second orgasm at about the same instant. She lay against him until her breathing returned to normal.
When Luisa got off the lap chair, she used his pocket hanky to clean them up. She didn't speak as she pushed his cock back into the pants and closed the zipper.
"Now," she smiled demurely from her own chair, "is this part of the contract, or do I get extra for it?"
CHAPTER FOUR
The Casa was a success from the outset. The brothers tried to accept the reservation in such a manner that there would not be an overlapping of guests.
Randy was happiest when the rooms were full of interesting and sexually attractive males. Sandy preferred the weeks that the Casa was on a more heterosexual plane. It was not that Sandy did not like the homo crowd. He mixed with them socially very well. Then again he had little worries, for he always had Luisa when the Casa was very, very gay.
As far as that goes, neither of the boys had any worries in the sexual department. Each was attractive enough to make any of the guests, male or female, swoon. The fact that they were such look a-likes played to their favor. If either boy got into a situation, the other would come to the rescue.
Randy had bedded down one night with the son of a has-been actress, while Sandy was nicely couched between her legs. Neither boy had been overly excited by their bed partner and were so successful in becoming the other that the actress and son left in a huff the next day, never knowing which to really accuse of what.
There is a lull that comes to all resort areas. Especially those which are fortunate enough to have both a winter and summer clientele.
"What's on the docket for today?" Randy asked as he came into the office and found his brother going over the ledgers.
"Mike will have to pick up some newly-weds at Hermosillo this afternoon. The only other reservation is for a Duly and Mason. They are driving down from San Diego. I would gather that they are a two-some, also. That's about all for the next ten days, unless we get some drop ins."
"I hope the two-some are discret, or the newly-weds are broad minded. I don't like mixing the sexes."
"With so few people in the house I don't think it will matter. That's why I asked Mother to come down next weekend."
"You what?" Randy gasped.
"I asked Mother to come down for a little vacation. What's wrong with that?" Sandy did retain a mite of respect for his mother.
"Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. Only, Dad is flying down in the company plane from Mexico City. He should be here tonight."
"Why in the hell did you do a thing like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like inviting him?" Sandy had little use for a father he had seen twice in his adult life.
"I didn't invite him," Randy snapped. "He just wired that he was in the capital and would fly down to look over the place. And besides, I don't recall your asking me if we should ask Mother down for the weekend."
"Well, she is our Mother," Sandy temperized.
"And what in the hell is he? Our father!"
"Big deal!"
"Yah! At least he was a father to me. That's more than I can say about her being a mother."
"She was a mother to me, and that's more than I can say about his being a father." Their tempers were at the breaking point.
"He's not coming as a father. You forget, Sandy, that he did advance us $300,000 against our trust money to start this little venture. You might say he is a silent partner coming to see how his investment is doing. Shit! She wouldn't even pay for your last year in school, after she found out that you and I were pals. Who in the God damn hell do you think picked up your tab for that last year."
"Sure, I know. But, I still say he was trying to buy back my affection."
"Oh, go straight to hell. I'll take Dad on a fishing trip." Randy slammed out of the office.
It was the first fight that they had ever had. Sandy started feeling the pangs of guilt as soon as the echo of the door bang subsided.
He really didn't have much resentment in his heart for his father. He was secretly proud that his father had helped him without asking. If he really put his mind to it, he knew what the real problem was. He had gone through the first part of life with little or no love. He knew of the love that his father had given to his twin brother. (The paternal love, not the incestuous affairs). His mother had been a cold fish. He had not even been allowed to kiss her on the cheeks, since he had been five years old. He was just plain jealous.
He rang for Mike. Sighed. Pulled a pad of white telegraphic forms from the desk and began to print.
"Unusual off season rush has Casa full. Regret must ask you to postpone visit. Love. Sandy."
He sighed again. Handed the sheet to the handsome young boy, who had silently crept into the room. In fluid Spanish he instructed him to send the wire when he picked up the Dawsons in Hermosillo.
Don and Clara Dawson were exuberant travellers. This was their first trip out of the United States. It was Clara Mercer Dawson's first trip out of Iowa. Don had spent four years in the Navy. The majority of that time he was at the Chelsea Naval Hospital, outside of Boston. Theirs had been a family marriage, even though they had dated steady throughout high school, and every one in the Iowa community had known that they were a thing. Don was the scion of the only doctor and Clara the only daughter of the local pharmacist. Don had lost a brother in Italy and one in Korea. He was therefore exempt from military and overseas duty. His Navy service had been a form of escape. He was flunking out of med-school and didn't want to hurt his father's feelings. It was almost natural that he keep in good with both families and became a pharmacist.
"Oh, Don, it's delightful!" she exclaimed as they alighted at the entrance to the Casa. Sandy was there to greet them as a true host.
"Why do you call it Casa de Vaso?" she bubbled on in her unworldly mid-western twang.
Sandy laughed. "House of Glass. You have heard of people who throw stones? Well, here nobody throws stones, because when you are a guest here you are living in a glass house. We lice and let live. Come inside where it is cooler. Mike, take their luggage to number seven."
It was just as Don Dawson had imagined. He had heard of the Casa from and old Navy buddy who had come here early in the season. Don knew it probably wasn't the proper place to take a bride on her honeymoon. But, then again, she really wasn't a bride, in that sense. He had known every part of her body, inside and out, ever since they had been kids of sixteen.
At twenty-five, he was a bride-groom of forty-eight hours, and already looking for new fields to pursue.
His Navy buddy had been brought to the Casa by an older homo who was keeping him. (A fact that he had been kept from Don). Their week stay had coincided with a full house of UCLA students. The old man could only take on the youthful sailor about twice a week. This left him to indulge in his heterosexual tastes with the coeds during the better part of their vacation. He had recommended the place highly to Don; who he knew always had hot pants for a lively chic.
Don's eyes were searching, as they crossed the flag-stoned lobby. His buddy had given him an apt description of Luisa, and her talents. Don was not disillusioned. Luisa was laying a new fire in the fireplace. Her short shorts were pulled taut across the rounded ass. Dan could feel his cock coming to attention. He was primarily an ass man. That Clara Dawson was mostly skin and bone, in this department, probably accounted for his taste. He was madly in love, even before he saw the tan face and voluptuous breasts.
He was not a breast man. He had strong reservations about broads who had big boobs. They loved to neck and have you fondle their mammery glands, but when you tried to get a feel of their cunt, or get your wick into them, they shied away. A gal with a good ass and medium to small boobs, he had found out, was usually ashamed that she didn't have a big chest. Try to reach for one of their tits and the hand was pushed right to the center of the action. This was for Don. Forepleasure, for him, meant sinking the meat into the shaft within five minutes of starting the action.
Because of this quick manner of conquest, Don Dawson had missed out on the finer points of sexual intercourse. No tit had ever touched his lips, let alone a cunt-lip. No woman had slid down to take him in an oral exchange. After four years of naval service, and that in a hospital, he was still very much virginal in the realm of male-to-male encounters.
Two sets of eyes followed them, as they marched after Mike down the hallway to their room. If the brothers would have compared notes, they would have been surprised at how closely they thought alike, and yet on different planes.
Sandy, from the desk, was puzzled at the combination of this married couple. She was so small and almost on the side of being mousy. Her hair was cropped short and her tiny face had little, if any expression. Sexually she didn't even make his little finger rise. The husband, on the other hand, was quite handsome.
It was this fact that Randy, spying them through the front glass, noted first. Don Dawson exuded male sexual attraction. He was all male from his curly black hair, down to the assured manner in which he walked. Randy could tell that there was little padding in the light weight coat, still it spoke of football shoulder padding. The waist was slim and then flared out to over sized hips. His walk suggested that a pound of meat dangled between his legs. Shame that he is married, Randy thought to himself. Shame that he is married to that. She must either have money or be pregnant. He also wondered how in the hell they had found out about the Casa. They were the establishment's first set of newly-weds.
He pressed the thoughts from his mind as he swung into the returned jeep. It was time to go to private airport in Guaymas to fetch his father.
Only two rules were rigid at the Casa: meal time and siesta time. Meals were delightful for the guests. Breakfast was laid out on the sideboard at 7 a.m. and stayed hot and steamy until 10 a.m. If you desired breakfast in bed, then one of Marian-na's oldest boys, Pepe or Luichi (14 and 15) would gladly run it to your room, just for the tip.
Lunch was always served buffet style, by the pool. Marianna always took her time about getting the food to the large table under the cabana, but it mysteriously vanished at the stroke of two o'clock. That was the beginning of Siesta. The house quite died for the next two hours.
It almost had to, for the evening hours were the fun and games times for the Casa. At six the lobby became a free cocktail party. At eight sharp the dining room doors would open and the rolly-polly Marianna would announce dinner. This was her real hour of the day. Her children would be scrubbed spotless and dart between the tables to serve the guests the many delicacioes that she had slaved over throughout the day.
The pool side bar and game room were open after dinner. Some evenings there was dancing, or cards. Normally the pool got a good play along about eleven or twelve. When it was the proper crowd it was always skinny-dipping time. In the game room was also a small kitchen. The late evening snack was never a problem at the Casa.
On this afternoon the siesta time was extremely quiet. Marianna had taken her brood into town to buy them new shoes; The Dawsons were snoozing after their flight from the states; Mike had been assigned the task of driving Marianna and the kids to town; Duly and Mason were locked behind their doors in number five; Karl Smithson was unpacking in number three; And Sandy thought that number two was occupied by Larry Battle, the Smith-son pilot. He didn't know where Luisa was, and didn't much care. He was lying on his brother's bed, in his brother's room, waiting for him to come in so that he could say how sorry he was for the foolish fight of that morning.
Sandy didn't know that Randy had taken Larry and Luisa down to see the boat.
It was a lazy afternoon. Even with air conditioning the room seemed hot and stuffy. Sandy could feel his eyes begin to droop. What the hell, he thought, I'll just catch forty winks and let Randy wake me up. He was just going over the edge of wakefulness when there was a light tap on the door.
"Come in," he growled.
"Am I disturbing you?" His father came on into the room.
"No. Come on in." He hunched up on his elbows.
"Don't get up. I'm only going to stay a minute. Randy, I can't tell you how proud I am of this place. You and Sandy have done a wonderful job here."
Sandy couldn't get his mouth open in time to correct his father who had mistaken him for his brother.
"I don't know where Sandy is. I haven't seen him yet. Probably taking a snooze. I'd better not bother you. You look a little tired. I didn't notice it when you picked me up at the airport."
"It's no bother. So you really like the Casa?"
"It's a dream. Of course, you know that I would rather have you in New York with me. I miss you, son. I miss you very much." He came and sat down on the side of the bed. He had no qualms about putting his hand on his son's thigh.
It felt good to Sandy to feel his father's touch. Even if he did know that it was not meant for him, but for his brother. He intended to keep his true identity a secret for a few more minutes. He was so starved for father love that he would accept it even on a ruse.
"Are you happy here, Randy?"
"Very!"
"And is Sandy?"
"I think so."
"I don't know what to do about that boy. He just doesn't like me. I guess his mother fed too many ideas into his head about me."
"I don't think she ever mentioned you to him."
"That's just as bad. If he would only let me get to know him."
"As you know me?" It was a shot in the dark that Sandy threw out. The warm smile that he and his brother shared now came across the original face. His father was still a handsome and rugged man. No one would ever suspect that he was in his middle forties.
"Would you want me to get to know him as well as I know you?"
"Why not? He's your son too." Sandy did not know of the extreme closeness of his brother and father.
"That's just the point. He is my son. With you it's a little different." Karl Smithson rubbed him hand up and down the thigh. Sandy took it for nothing more than affection.
"Maybe he needs love just as much as I do."
"My kind of love." Karl groped at the groin. It was not responding in the same fashion that it normally would. He still did not surmise which son he was fondling.
For Sandy it was a different matter. That last sentence, coupled with his father feeling of his cock, had made every thing quite clear. He knew his brother was a little on the queer side. He had never questioned him about it. Randy had never made a pass at him. They got along fine. Now he was cornered.
The hand continued to knead at his groin. He could feel his bent over cock begin to stiffen and straighten out.
"You seem a little cold."
"It's been a long time."
"Is that why you're so nervous? You're shaking like a leaf."
"I'm afraid that Sandy might come in."
"He doesn't know about us?"
"No."
"That's just as well. He's probably a little prudish, like his mother. I bet he's never had his cock sucked."
"No, he hasn't!"
"Think he ever will?"
"Probably. We have quite a bit of activity going on around here. It's bound to happen sooner or later."
"I sure would love to be the person to bring him out."
"Would you really?" Sandy had not fought back as the rough hands had taken aside his belt and reached in under to pull the cock out of the pants.
"Why not? I was the first for you. Why shouldn't I be the first for him?"
"Just for sex?"
"Hell no! I don't make you only for sex. I love you! I also love that boy. He won't let me get close to him. Maybe I could show my love if he would let me do that for him."
"Why don't you pretend that I am Sandy right now. Treat me just like I was Sandy and had never been made before."
"Damn, that is an exciting idea."
Sandy was almost paralyzed as he watched the masculine head begin to dip toward his lap. He had never thought that he would ever let a man do this to him, let alone his own father. He wanted to be just as good as Randy in this man's eyes. On the surface he may say that he hated, but deep inside he thirsted for love. Even if he had to get it in this fashion.
A moan escaped from his lips as the soft, warm flesh closed over him. He had never felt anything so exciting before. He peeked. The sun browned lips would drop low over his shaft and then pull back off. It aroused him to see himself leaving and entering a mouth. It worked such newness upon his libido that he was unaware of the voluntary movement of his hips.
Strong hands came under and grasped at his buttocks. He was pressed upward into the accepting cavity. The tongue hit an unknown erogenous zone. His mind snapped. He was aflame with passion. He threw his legs over the strong shoulders and locked them around the burly neck. The mouth pressed deeper. His pelvis became a living thing.
Like a rabbit he pumped his body with short, jerky thrusts.
So violent were his movements that Karl had a great deal of difficulty in keeping the hard cock in his mouth.
Sandy grabbed at the balding head and held it firmly in place. He loved to come in a broad. He was getting the same feeling in this mouth. He guessed that he just loved to come. Goddamn, he thought to himself, this is the greatest sex I've ever had. He shot at about this moment and slowed his rhythm down as the tube drained. He felt tingly all over. No bitch had ever pulled so much juice from him. He fell back exhausted onto the pillows.
Karl removed the muscular legs from his shoulder and wiped his chin and mouth with a hanky.
"Damn, boy, you really played your part well. You never acted like that before."
"It felt different," Sandy said groggily.
"But, it was still play acting," Karl sighed, "and not the real Sandy."
"Do you really want him that much."
"I've wanted him ever since I saw him at graduation. Then when you two came to New York to get money for this place, he was so aloof that I just gave up hope of ever getting near him."
"Why don't you go to his room tonight?"
"Are you kidding?"
"No. I'll have a little talk with him after dinner. You go in and tell him how much you like this place. Sit on his bed, just like you are now. Run your hand up and down his leg. When you get to his crotch move in slow. He always sleeps in the raw, so you won't have too much trouble through the sheets. When you see that you've given him a hard on, then star sucking before he has a chance to say anything. Once you start giving him a blow job, he'll like it so much that he won't want you to stop."
"Do you think I really should?"
"Hell yes. Look it's given me a hard on just thinking about it."
"I bet you'd love to get that cock in your mouth too, wouldn't you?"
Sandy blushed. He had never given that a thought. He wondered if Randy did want to have a fling in bed with him. Strangely it rather excited him to give it a quick thought.
"I don't know," he said as his mind wandered. "Maybe I would like that." But his thought was just the opposite of what Karl was thinking. "I do know what I would like."
"What's that?"
"For you to take me again right now. If you're going to be busy with Sandy tonight, then I had better get my share this afternoon."
Karl did not hesitate.
CHAPTER FIVE
Larry Battle was like every other pilot. When he was upon the ground his brain was in the wrong head. His cock had been rigid ever since Luisa had sallied out of the Casa and climbed into the jeep. That her skirt had slid well up onto her thigh had helped add to the allure.
Randy had sent word back to the Casa, via a dock hand, that they were going to take the boat out for a spin. He warned that they may not be back in time for dinner.
Randy was pleased, because he seldom got to handle the twenty-four foot Christ Craft. Mike had taken over the boat, as if it were his own, and sulked if either of the boys tried to play captain. Luisa was pleased, because she was with two very handsome and sexy men. She had tried in vain to get close to Randy, but he had not given her a tumble. This could be the time, she thought. If not, then there was always the darkly handsome pilot. She got a strange tingle deep inside her vagina every time she took a casual peek at his enormous crotch. Man! that man is hung, she mused. She could already feel his girth pounding into her before they had ever left the dock.
Around Point Lobos the water was crystal clear. The Rio Yaqui, over the years, had formed a series of minute islands at its delta. Around these dots of land the water was fresh. It was so vividly blue that the sun made the fools gold sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight.
"It's marvellous swimming," Randy said from the pilots chair, indicating a white sand bottom area.
"I didn't bring a suit," Luisa shrugged her shoulders in the typical Spanish fashion.
"That's never stopped you before," he laughed.
She tried to smile demurely at Larry, but it didn't work. He began to pull of his clothes.
With a Texas type yell he jumped into the twelve foot water. It was so transparent that he looked like a strange type of fish swimming under the water. His arms and part of his legs were a deep brown. The rest of his body was a sickly white in comparison.
Randy shut down the motor and threw out the anchor. It floated down and nestled into the sand. A puff of the white powder sent up a cloud. It scared a school of small blue-white fish in Larry's direction. The fish became confused and swam in circles around him. The enemy was behind. They took him for a larger fish and swarmed around him for protection. Playfully he reached out for them and they would dart away.
Luisa climbed to the prow. Her coloring was uniform from head to toe. She raised slightly, arms stretched in front of her and arched into the fresh water.
It was a graceful dive. She cut the water, making hardly a ripple. She crayfished with her arms and legs to pull her deeper into the lagoon. The shimmering black hair floated behind her like a bride's veil.
They surfaced a hundred feet from each other. Refilled their lungs and redove. Larry was a powerful swimmer. He was by her side in seconds. His arms came around her waist. Their mouths bubbled as they met. His vapors made the largest circles of escaping air. They floated to the surface, pulled deeply of the air and sank. His body floated over on top of her. His massive weight pushed them to the sandy floor. He tried to make his entrance, but she fought him off.
A third splash broke the water. Randy's athletic body circled around them. Luisa tried to reach out and grab hold of his genitals. He darted away. It started a game. They raced after one another trying to get their hands on a sex organ. Larry looked a little bewildered and then angry when it was Randy who got the first feel of his cock. He took it for the sport of the game and not for anything gay or queer. In Dallas a guy went around with a broken nose for making a pass at Larry when he was eighteen. In his high school crowd a queer was someone to be rolled, but never to be allowed to go down on you.
Larry worked harder to get near Luisa. Once he was nearly successful in getting a rubbing feel of her right tit. It sent him wild. Even in the ice cold water his cock stood straight out from his body. He wasn't embarrassed. He knew he was well hung. Make it harder, he told himself, and then she will really go for it.
They played in this fashion until the sun was dippling behind the Sierra de LaGigantas. Suddenly the water seemed very cold. They pulled themselves onto the deck. Randy went below to bring back towels.
Larry had Luisa in his arms when he came back on deck. He was dry fucking her as hard as his hips would rotate. Randy threw them two towels. They hit Larry in the back.
"Why don't you get lost for awhile, junior. Three's a crowd." Randy didn't like the tone of his voice. After all he was only an employee of his father.
"Maybe Luisa doesn't see it that way," he said sarcastically, and gave her a knowing wink over Larry's shoulder.
"You want to be alone with your big daddy, don't you, baby?" Larry asked as he pulled her into a tighter embrace.
"Maybe. Maybe no. Why be bored with two people, when you can have real excitment with three?"
"Honey, with what I got between my legs no woman ever gets bored. Besides, when I screw I like to do it with one broad, not with another guy trying to horn in."
"It's a party or nothing at all," she said gently as she pushed him away.
"Ah, honey," he pleaded. He tried to break her retreat. She turned and spread her legs wide. She cupped her hands under her breasts and jiggled them up and down. Her hips pulsated the inviting cut of her cunt forward and back. Larry's cock gave an involuntary jerk. She knew how to wrap him around her little finger. He walked forward and put his head down between the huge tan breasts. The air was filled with the sound of air escaping from his tightly closed lips as they pressed into his flesh. She pushed his head on down to her belly. She knew that this was the direction in which he wanted to travel and her pressing hand helped him to go in the right direction.
As his mouth ate at the fur covering, Luisa dropped to her knees and then lay on her side upon the canvas deck. She was prone by the time that his tongue had found the vertical slit and was pressing into the quivering tissue. Luisa loved to have men eat her, but this time her mind was not fully upon the action. She was mesmerized in watching the wan face of Randy Smithson. He had watched the by play and the conquest to the point of the masculine face being covered by the fur mound. Then his eyes came to rest on the true object of his interest. Larry Battle did have the largest cock he had ever seen. It stood a full foot out of his pelvis and was no less than two inches across at it's largest girth. The head was like a polished door-knob.
Luisa watched in fascination as he slid to the deck and inched his body along the canvas. His mouth was open and panting. He came abreast of the hard cock and looked at it with glassy eyes.
Larry was going wild in plunging his tongue into her cunt. She wondered what he would do if Randy took him on at this moment. With her eyes she pleased with Randy to go ahead. She had never seen one man suck on another and the thought sent a delightful chill up her spine.
She almost screamed with relief when she saw the handsome lips close over the round head and suck several inches of the stiff cock on into the mouth. She worked her own hips to keep Larry from loosing interest. The mere sight of that cock going in and out of those pink lips was turning her on.
"What in the hell!" Larry pulled away and swatted Randy away from his cock. "So that's the God damn dame. Get me out here with this broad and get me all hot so you can lick on my dick."
"Don't get excited, big boy," Luisa soothed. "It's only part of the fun and games."
"Well, I don't go for that part."
"What's the matter? Didn't you like it?"
"It felt alright. I thought it was you sucking me off. Then I felt up and got hold of your tits and knew you couldn't be up there and going down on me too. Then I knew we had a cock sucker aboard."
"What difference does it make if it's her or me sucking you off? You seemed to be enjoying yourself in her muff."
"Crap!" His one word rejoiner did not say yes or no. His mouth answered for him. He dove back between the awaiting thighs and fiercely pulled them apart. Randy resumed his chores, but soon tired of getting no response from his mouthings.
Randy rolled Luisa onto her side and cradled himself against her back. She knew what entrance he desired and let her buttocks announce that she was willing for such a play.
Randy had no problem in slipping into the rear breach. He rotated his hips so that his entire cock would be accepted. Luisa moaned with delicious delight. Larry thought that his licking was giving her this response. He pulled away to see why Randy was not administering fellatio on his own stiff cock. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the position Randy had taken.
"Man, that's a hot damn sight! Honey, you're just about to become a sandwich. Funny part is that your going to be one slice of bread between two slabs of meat."
Larry wanted to get her good and hot. As he watched Randy, with relish, he stroked the tan body with his hands. For such ham-hocks, Luisa found them to be delicately light. They stirred a voluptuous fire in her groin. Her mouth was giving forth with pleading requests for him to take her. She could feel the friction in her ass adding to her inflamed desire.
Larry wasn't going to act hastily. His finger nails tore over her flesh. He was building her through torment. Stroke by stroke he was getting her to the point of being more than ready. He knew he had to do this. He had already cracked open a couple of little gals with his abnormal size. He had to get them so damn not that they wouldn't push him away when the congress came.
Larry nestled into her belly. She could feel his length bypass her belly button. His chest was crushing her tits. His teeth gnawed at her lower lip.
Larry arched his butt outward. The action pulled his cock down. He could feel the head travel through the wet hair. Luisa spread her legs farther apart, which brought a massive groan from Randy, as the action had pulled his cock even deeper into her ass.
Larry was also aware of the liquid softness of the cunt-lips. He was primed. Wham! His ear was deafened by her scream. He wrapped his arms around her and held onto Randy's back, so that she would have no escape from either direction.
Wham! Without regard he used his powerful body to shoot the entire length deep into her cunt. His lunges were brutal. His grunts told of his lustful pleasure. Rhythmically he drove the pylon home. Again and again and again the prick was rendered unto her flesh in animal style.
"Come, you God damn sadist! Hurry up and come. I think I'm bleeding to death."
Luisa liked her sex slow and easy. She liked to relish each sensuous moment. Even the thrill of his largness was over shadowed by his pig-like grunts. She tried to concentrate on the second sexual action. The first was even making this seem not as enjoyable. She closed her eyes and tried to bring her feeling to a point where she could at least enjoy her own orgasm. She could feel it rising. But, it was odd. She felt like she was having the climax in her ass and not her cunt. She moved his massive buns. This excited Randy. He pumped his cock harder into the hole.
All three bodies quivered at once. Six hands fought to keep the trio together. There were a few last tenative thrusts to keep the action alive, and then it was over.
Each lay with their own thoughts. The sun was long gone. The distant mountains had blended with the black sky and even blacker water. Randy had had a greater deal of difficulty in navigating these waters in the day light. He feared going aground during this inky blackness. There was to be no moon that night. He called on the ship-to-shore to warn the Casa that they would not return until day break.
Luisa fixed them a light supper from the stocks in the galley and then retired to the forward cabin to rest. Her cunt felt like it had just gone through the burning of Rome.
The cool breeze had vanished. They could feel the heat escaping from the desert hills. None returned to their clothing. Larry and Randy lay on rubber mats beneath the starless sky.
Each was counting the pinpoints of far off light as they did reveal themselves.
"She's quite a gal," Larry finally said.
"Yah!"
"You're not bad yourself."
"Thanks. What brought that on?"
"Just thinking about what it felt like when you were going down on me. Why did you stop?"
"You didn't seem to be enjoying it. It was time for other fun and games."
"Hell. It felt good as hell. I rather liked it."
"That's not what your body was telling me. It was as cold as ice."
"Did it show that much?"
"Yep!"
"I guess I didn't want her to think that I liked having a guy do it, better than what she could do for me."
"She's a sport. She liked watching." Randy was bored by the conversation. He had found Larry wanting in the reaction department and all interest was now paste.
"I would sure like to try it again some time. Would you?" He got no response from Randy.
"It's hot and ready right now. Why don't you just come on over here and suck on it for awhile?"
"And why don't you go straight to hell!" Randy rolled over and feined going to sleep. A few minutes later he heard Larry receive a similar rebuff from Luisa. He couldn't help but laugh. It was a quiet night.
* * *
Things were not quite so quiet back at the Casa.
Don Dawson was inwardly upset upon hearing that Luisa would not return to the Casa that night. He took his sexual spite out on his bride.
Duly and Mason were not the "thing" that everyone had thought. They did live in the same apartment house in Diego, but with other partners. They had eyed each other for two years. Duly was supposedly on a business trip to Chicago, and Mason was off seeing his mother in Colorado. In actual fact they were tearing down the walls in their double room, releasing two years of pent up sexual emotion. When this weird weekend was finally over, many would feel that they were the ones who had really acted like the newly-weds. No one, except the boy delivering their food, what little they ate, really saw them from the time they checked in on Thursday evening until they departed on Monday.
To keep the record straight we might note that Sandy did receive a visit from his father that evening. He played the old man along for quite a spell before submitting. The rest of the Casa was very quiet.
CHAPTER SIX
Thinking back over the events of Friday, any one of the guests might have seen ill omens in the day long thunderstorm, in the moodiness of some people, in the lack of candor in others, in a dozen odd little mishaps at the Casa.
The fact remains that none of them noticed anything out of the ordinary.
As I was not brought into the scene until Saturday, I can only relate the Friday events as they were later told to me.
By way of introduction my name is Carey. Phil Carey. I'm a private investigator out of Dallas. I've done a lot of work for Karl Smithson, but never anything this unusual. Karl brought me to the Casa posing as a business associate. This cover lasted only until the second attempt at murder took place.
But, I'm getting ahead of my story.
'Let me recount the events of Saturday.
The storm had passed in the night. The early morning air was crisp and nippy. The gulf was a sheet of calm glass. It took every bit of reserve energy for Randy to pull himself out of bed, as the first streaks of light painted themselves across the sky. He could hear Marianna rattling pots in the kitchen. The soft tread of sneakers passed his door. He took them to be the feetfalls of Don Dawson. With Mike they had made a date for fishing in the gulf.
Sandy also heard the steps pass his door. He took them to be those of his brother. He knew that he must get out of bed. It was Saturday. Payday. Market day. Headache day. He was hung. No less than four private little parties had transpired the night before. Sandy had attended and been a part of everyone of them.
Clara Dawson peeked through a half opened eye and watched her husband depart. They had had a spat the night before. She didn't bid him goodbye. When the door was silently closed she climbed out of bed, took a few bites of the breakfast that had been left for her and had a cup of coffee, felt ill and lay back down. Their window looked out upon the jagged sandy cliffs. Far below was the azure serenity of the gulf. Being a farm girl, she loved the early morning hours. She was thankful to be alone. When the digginess past she got back up. Speedily she slipped into a halter and matching pair of shorts. The huaraches, that she had bought in the bazaar, squeaked as she slid her feet into them.
Clara, busily putting on a new face in the vanity mirror, did not notice the door crack open. The eye that was pressed against the breach was swollen and shot through with red. The door was pulled to as Clara turned to make her departure.
Crossing the deserted lobby she had two sensation. The sound of the departing jeep caught her ear. She was relieved that her husband would be gone for the whole day and she wouldn't have to face a scene until nightfall. Over riding this sense of relief was one of being watched. She spun around, but the large room, with it's hand-wrought furniture, was empty.
She shivered. A chill ran up her spine. Nonsense, she counseled herself. It's just that the room is cold from the thunderstorm. She practically ran out into the morning sunlight.
There was no trail down the lava-sand cliff. Carefully she picked her way around the larger boulders. Damn fool, she told herself, I should have walked on down the road and back around the point to the shoreline. But, this was more exciting. Far below she could see the waves washing in upon the eye-hurting white sand.
The sun was well into the sky when she came to the waters edge. She was in a cove that was cut off from the main part of the beach. No one could see her, she thought, unless they were on the cliffs above or peering through binoculars from a boat in the gulf. She climbed out of the few garments she was wearing and raced naked into the clear, cool, salty water. Like a dolphin she played in the surf. When her energy was spent the sun had warmed the air to a comfortable toastiness. Clara flopped down on the sand, at the waters edge and shielded her eyes with her forearm. With only two hours sleep from the night before, the warmth of the sun and soft lapping of the waves soon had her slipping into a void.
The figure rose out of the gulf, thirty feet from the prone woman. It was covered in black rubber. A mask hid the face. The manner in which the garment clung to the body spoke of a rugged masculine frame. He stooped and disloged his feet from the flippers.
There was no greeting as he stealthfully walked to Clara.
The eyes, through the plexiglass visor, showed hate. He was careful not to let his shadow fall upon her and disturb her sleep. Silently he unzipped the front of the rubber pants. His cock was shriveled from being in such confining quarters and from being for some time in the cold water. He worked it to an erection with his right hand. It was no mere toy when in it's full prime.
Clara looked like a little girl, as she lay stretched out. Her breasts were like two hard boiled eggs that someone was having fun with by placing red-rasberry gum drops on the ovalled head. The child-like quality was heightened by the clean shaven vee between her legs. Actually it was more like a W, as the legs were spread wide and the cunt-lips were gaping open.
No one was near to hear her scream as the gloved hand closed over her mouth. She was so slight that he had little difficulty in dragging her to where the waves washed the sand with two to three feet of water.
Clara could not see her assailant. Fear is an awesome thing when you can see you enemy. The unknown creates it's own danse macabre.
At first she did not know what the attack was all about. Realization flooded her mind as the burly frame dropped on top of her. Her eyes were matted with sand. The salt water stung as it came over her head. She opened her mouth for air, when the hand was removed. Instead of air, the sea rushed into her lungs.
Life was now the important element. Clara pushed the brackish water from her mouth and waited for the wave to subside.
A new scream tore at her brain. This one she had to keep silent. Gigantic jabs of pain ate at her groin. She felt like she was being torn apart. Her husband was well built, for a man, but this was the largest cock she had ever been forced to take on.
Again and again it was rammed up into her cunt, almost as if it were defing her to enjoy her own rape. Stubbornly she kept her body still and silent.
Resentment built in the rapist. The heavy body was raised high and allowed to drop of it's own accord onto her slim frame. The touch of the slimy rubber on her skin was repulsive. Let this God damn fish-man rape me, she thought, but I won't show him that I am enjoying it.
Strange as it may seem she actually was beginning to get arousement from the feel of such a large member in her womb. The assailant was rough with his body, but his cock was acting from natural instinct and moving against her tissue to bring pleasure unto itself and thus by the mere course of its action to her.
Clara was a strong willed girl. She kept her fears bottled deep inside of her. She tried to get a look at the man. The sand and salt gave her only a blurred image of a head of black, with a face of glass.
She could feel her hair begin to rise in the water. Good deal, she thought, the wave will make him back off. She did not take into consideration that he could breath under water, and she could not.
Clara filled her lungs with as much air as they would hold. The cooling water closed deeper over her. She tried to clear her eyes. She felt like she was floating.
Oh, my god! She was floating. He was pushing her out into deeper water. When the wave subsided, this time, it would not uncover her nose and mouth.
She tried to raise her arms to fight back. Gloved hands pined them to the sandy beach. She could feel the ebbing tide eat the sand out from under the weight of her pressed down wrists.
Legs! My feet and legs are out of the water, she reasoned. He's not fighting back. Flail your legs, Clara, flail them like crazy.
The thin spindles fought in an up and down motion. She could not get them high enough to lock around his waist or to push him off. My God, she thought again, it brings him in farther. Each time I move my legs to fight it rams him too deep. The pain was excrusiating.
Oh, come you silly bastard! Get it over with. Have your pleasure with me, but let me get some air. Her supply was almost exhausted.
For the first time the word madman came to her mind. A new fear ate at her entrails. He's not every going to let me breath again. I'm going to die while he's got his big thing in me. I don't want to die. Oh, for God's sake fuck me all you want, but don't kill me.
The will to survive is paramount in all living species. It becomes vital when it is slowly ebbing away.
Clara put ever last ounce of her strength into devising ways of escape. She moved her hips from side to side. This only made the intruder moan with delightful pleasure. She kicked and reared her ass. He plunged even deeper.
No longer did he even have to move his own body. Her actions were so frantic that the will to live was actually giving him his greatest sexual congress.
Clara fought like a wild woman. It was probably this very fight in her that saved her life. Her little body moved so rapidly and with such diverse motions that he could not sustain his climax.
Through the face mask she could hear the gut-teral grunts of pleasure. The water was filled with a million air bubbles that escaped from his air hose.
The rubbery body was racked with spasms. It collapsed from it's spent pleasure. The sheer weight of the man dug them farther into the sand.
It was almost too late. Although it had been less than two minutes since the last wave washed her head underwater, Clara had used up the last of her air. Her body was a mass of tiny pin pricks. Bright lights flashed in her brain. She was going under. A sweet blissful calm surrounded her. From far off she thought she heard shouts. Just the angels call to me, she laughed. Just elves and angels. Couldn't be the devil. No, not the devil. I've just had my hell on earth.
"Hola! Hola! What are you going down there?" The call from the top of the cliff came in Spanish.
Spanish, thought Clara. Oh, shit! Why didn't I learn this damn language. Now I'll have to spend the rest of eternity in the Spanish side of heaven and I'll never know what they are saying.
"What is going on? Is the senora drowning?"
The intruder did not understand Spanish either, it seemed. He jumped off of Clara and spun in alarm. His eyes scanned the cliff. What he saw made him jump back in fright. The sun caught on the barrel of a rifle.
Hastily he stuffed his still erect member into the rubber flap and zipped it up.
Something deep inside told Clara to sit up. The sweet smell of fresh air hit her nostrils. She sucked in deeply with open mouthed gasps.
When the air came back out of her lungs it erupted in a blood curling yell. The cliffs echoed with the fear in her voice. No language barrier was needed to tell that she was in trouble.
The would-be murderer tried to plow his way out to sea. He stooped to refit the flippers to his feet. The hills echoed with a new sound. The rifle had been aimed and fired in his direction. The explosion sounded to Clara like a canon. She crawled on sore wrists farther inland.
A second report came from the rifle. A fine spray of water jumped up in front of the raper. He dove beneath the surface.
The rifleman kept up his attack until the chamber was empty of shells. It was to no avail. The under water sportsman was deep in the bowels of the bay. He could be heading either north, south, or due west. Each direction would lead him to safety.
While Pepe had remained on the cliff to fire at the black figure, Luichi had scrambled down the dangerous slope. Clara was coughing and spewing by the time he reached her. At first he did not recognize her. Her fair complexion told him that she was not mejicano.
Clara tried to stand. The world spun before her. A soothing blackness took away all pain. She collapsed into the outstretched hands of the youth from the Casa.
CHAPTER SEVEN
All hell broke loose when Marianna saw her two teenager sons walking up the dusty road, to the Casa, with the nude body of a sandy coated woman. It had taken them a half hour to bring her up from the beach.
She thought the young bride was dead. Her Spanish took on a superstitious moan as she began firing question at them. All three were talking at once when Luisa came to see what the commotion was about.
Her heart stopped. Once before she had worked at a place where there was a death in the first year of it's operation. There had been nothing but trouble ever after. She crossed herself, as she ran across the courtyard, and prayed that the woman was alive.
She said another prayer when she saw that Clara was breathing. Luisa became the master of the situation. She commanded Pepe to take the girl to her room. Mariana was ordered back to the kitchen to prepare hot water. She had recently finished showering and looked like a nun with the white towel droped over her head.
After an explanation, the rifle was taken from Luichi, and he was told to get the first aid kit out of Senor Sandy's office and to quietly tell the Senor to meet Luisa outside of the Senora Dawson's room.
It was done so quickly and quietly that the other guests in the dining room and their own rooms were not aware of the catastrophe.
Luisa barred everyone from the Dawson's room. Tenderly she washed the girls body and put her to bed. A shot of tequilla staved off the first signs of hysteria.
Methodically, and with womanly wisdom, she got Clara to relate the events of the morning. By the end of the story Luisa was a bundle of Latin terror. She was mad. She had her own idea as to the attacker and the reasons. She kept her own counsel, ant could not fully hide her apparent fear.
Marianna brought rich hot chicken soup. In motherly fashion she spoon fed the broth to Clara. Clara kept calling her "sister" until she realized who she really was.
Luisa used her mother precense in the room as an excuse to duck out for a few minutes. She held a whispered meeting with Sandy. He was at a loss as to how to handle the situation. For the first time in his life he was called upon to seek the advise of his father.
Luisa returned to the room via the storage closets. The skin diving equipment was missing. She recalled hearing some one in the closet earlier in the morning. She had taken it to be Mike, as the equipment usually went out with the boat. She was now sure that Clara had been attacked by her own husband and that her first surmise had been wrong. She thought she knew the reason why.
A dab of color had returned to Clara's face. The terror of the beach was being erased by the attention being lavished upon her. Clara was not used to being the center of attention. It was her starring hour. She made the most of it.
"This is an oil that we take from the cactus," Luisa said after her mother departed. "It will make you feel better."
While Luisa smoothed the salve into the sore areas, Clara smoked a cigarette and told her of the quiet life that she had led.
Because it was just two girls chatting in a closed room, Clara became more relaxed and more intimate with the details of her pre-marital sex life. The frankness shocked Luisa.
It was not meant to shock, only to keep Luisa in the room. Clara did not want to be alone. Gossip had told her enough about the Casa that she felt that a sexual subject would keep Luisa more interested than any other.
There was another reason she wanted to keep Luisa with her. One that she wouldn't even admit to herself. She envied the olive beauty. Luisa had everything that Clara had always wanted.
As Luisa continued to rub the ointment into her skin, Clara would take sneaky quick glances at the perfectly shaped breasts. She would have loved to have had semi-erect nipples that peaked out a blouse. Clara knew that her butt looked like a little boy's. She longed to have a fully contoured der-riere, like the one that sashayed away from the bed.
"Oh!" Clara shuddered, thinking that Luisa was going to leave her.
"What's the matter, honey?" Luisa asked as she-washed her hands in the bathroom.
"I'm so cold, all of a sudden."
"It's just shock. Shall I get you a blanket?"
"That won't really warm me up," Clara began to sob. "What I need is my husband. Oh, I'm shivering so." She let her teeth rattle.
"Don't shake so, honey. We don't want to call a doctor and have to make out a lot of reports. If you let yourself go to pieces you're just going to make yourself real sick."
"But, I'm so cold. Why don't you crawl in bed with me? On cold nights I used to sleep with my room mate in college. The bed would get real toasty."
Luisa studied her for a moment. Her mind weighed the possibility of an ulterior motive. She cast the thought aside as she recalled that Clara was a married woman and had been sleeping with her husband for several years.
"Okay!" It took few movements for her to slip out of her blouse and skirt. As a precaution against having to answer un-needed questions she bolted the door. Clad only in silk panties she climbed into the bed.
Clara nestled her clammy skin and bones right next to the heavier girl. Involuntarily she hugged Luisa. With only a pair of silk panties between them the hug was quite intimate. Luisa rolled onto her side. Clara wrapped her body around her.
For long moments they lay silent. Clara casually let her arm fall over Luisa's waist.
"Sometimes men can be brutes," Clara whispered.
"It's the beast in them."
"Do you like it when they are rough with you?"
"Sometimes."
"Don is usually rough with me. Not as rough as that bastard on the beach. Do men try strange things with you?"
"I don't understand."
"Eat you out and finger fuck."
"Sometimes."
"Do you like it?"
"That's rather personal."
"If you tell me, then I'll tell you a secret."
The feel of the soft body next to her was giving Luisa a strange delight. She was curious to see how far Clara Dawson would go with this game.
"Okay!" She rolled onto her back. It brought Clara's head under her arm. She lifted her arm for Clara to move away. When she put her arm back down Clara nestled into the shoulder, her hand lay at the top of the silk. "It thrills me when a guy gets his head down in my lap and plays lollipop."
Clara laughed. "Is that what you call it. Sure! Licking ... lollipop. Well, my secret is that my roommate used to play around with me."
"A woman?" Luisa tried to sound shocked.
"Yes, and she was good. Really, she was much better than my husband. All he wants to do is get his own kicks."
"Does he cheat on you?" Luisa already knew the answer.
"I think so. It doesn't upset me anymore, now that we are married. I'll lay you money that he would love to get into your pants."
"And that wouldn't upset you?"
"Not if...." Clara caught herself. Luisa knew that she had almost blurted out, "Not if I have you first."
Clara didn't finish the sentence. Her head was too close to the heaving breasts for comfort. She reached over and let her lips fall onto the erect-nipple. The kiss was not passionate, but deliberate. Luisa groaned and feined a weak resistance.
The moan had made Clara more daring. She darted her hand under the silk and massaged the mound of hair. The juices were already flowing when her little finger slide up and down the slit.
"I don't think we ought to start what we can't finish," Luisa said to find out Clara's true intentions.
"Take off your panties and I'll show you how far I am willing to go."
Clara helped Luisa out of the sheer garment and then pulled her over on top of her body that had lost all of its chill and was now fevered hot.
The clammy hands pushed and tugged until the girls knees were planted on each side of her head. Clara raised her mouth and brushed aside the hair so that her mouth could press firmly against the slit. Her nostrils were filled with the dusty aroma of female sex and it made her body quiver. She stuck her tongue out sharply and it made Luisa groan. Clara kept her tongue rigid and laid her head back down on the pillow. Luisa leaned forward until she could feel the tip of the tongue again shoot past the cunt-lips. Farther she pressed downward. The tongue became a genital. She became, however, the male in this girl-girl relationship. Her body became the driving force that pounded up and down. Clara kept her tongue as erect as a hardened cock. It aroused both of them.
Luisa could feel the bed beating with another rhythm. The delicate hand of Clara was beating into her own hairless cunt. Luisa was glad, for she couldn't give Clara release in any other fashion.
Luisa's orgasm came quickly. She remained in position until she could feel the lower portion of the bed stop shaking. Suddenly they were both sobbing. Luisa rolled onto her side of the bed. She felt guilty and dirty. She had to get away. With care she crawled out of the bed and with her back turned put her clothes back on. Clara had turned into the pillow and was giving vent to all the events of the day.
Wordlessly Luisa stood at the window and waited until the girl had cried herself to sleep. Then she went to her own room and stood for an hour under the shower. The quick orgasm had done nothing more than build her frustrations. She didn't need the thin mouthed love of a woman. She needed and desired something larger and rounder to sate her appetite.
With the water running through her hair, she grabbed the rounded bar of soap and fiercely rammed it in and out of her fevered cut until she lay panting on the floor of the shallow shower stall.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Don Dawsons' interest was not centered in fishing. No sooner had the boat cleared the neck of Cabo Haro than he was climbing into the black rubber diving suit. Mike and Randy helped him to strap the aqua-lung to his back and watched him vanish over the side of the boat. He had assured them that he had used similar equipment in the Navy. They didn't worry when he was not back after the first hour. The twin canisters on his back held a two hour supply of oxygen.
Don had run into trouble. He was so weak that they had to drag him over the side. The rubber suit was not pierced, but you could see areas where claws had scrapped the surface. He was exhilarated by the experience. It was a wondrous world under the sea, and even his brush with death had not dampened his ardor.
Randy wanted to go back down with him to find the attacking king size velvet crabs.
"Hey, amigo," Randy called to Mike, "where's the other diving suit?"
"In the forward locker."
"That's where I am now."
"It was there yesterday." But it wasn't today.
"Well," Randy shrugged, "guess we will just have to go after them tomorrow. We'll also bring some dart guns. Those crab make mighty good eating."
"That's alright. I think I've had enough underwater thrills for one day. Help me out of this monkey suit. Man, am I tired. I didn't get much sleep last night and all this earlier than usual exercise has pooped me."
Once devoid of the garment he collapsed, nude, upon the deck. The sun felt good eating into his tired limbs.
"Hey, chico," he yelled at Mike, "does that juke box play music?"
Mike was used to being called many things after one season at the Casa. He smiled his broadest grin and flipped on the ship to shore radio buttons. The radio hummed and squaked but would not give out with any other sound.
"Senor Randy, I think maybe something is wrong with the radio," he called in Spanish over his shoulders. Randy climbed up to the pilot deck and pulled the receiver from it's built in area. The back had been pried loose. Three of the tubes had been smashed.
"Now, how in the hell did that happen?"
Mike looked first dumb-founded and then scared. He thought that he would be blamed for it.
"It was alright yesterday."
"Everything seems to have been alright yesterday, but isn't today. Son-of-a-bitch!"
"What's the trouble," Don called up.
"The radio has been smashed."
"Accident?"
"I would say on purpose."
"Probably some teenagers. They've become a very destructive lot."
"Not down here, Don. Here they would not just break it. They would dismantle it and try to resell it."
"Well, I guess I don't need music after all. How about a drink?"
He ducked on down into the cabin and was talking a tray of ice cubes from the refrig when Randy joined him.
"I don't see how you can face that stuff after last night."
"After last night I could drown myself in the stuff and care less. It wasn't actually my idea of a fun and games the time she is wanting me to plug her. Last night when I really need it she say no. Shit!"
He took a big swig of his drink. It dribbled over his chin. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and then smiled evilly.
"It wasn't an entirely wasted evening. Do you know which room shares my balcony? "
Randy thought a minute. "Yah! My father's."
"He's quite an old rake."
"You must have been peeking."
"Couldn't help it. After Clara went to bed I went out and sat on the varanda. My chair happened to face his window. The corner I was in was quite dark and he forgot to close his blinds. Quite a peep-show."
"With Luisa?"
"Guess again."
"My God, not Marianna!"
"Wrong." Don grinned over the top of his glass.
"But, they are the only women at the Casa, except for those two thin little daughters of Marianna who haven't even nubbed out."
"Who said it had to be a woman." It was in Don's make-up, that he got a great deal of enjoyment out of telling a boy, in a round about way, that his father was queer.
"You don't mean...." Randy did looked surprised. Not from the basic knowledge, but the wonder of trying to fathom who had been in bed with his father.
"Your father sucks a mean cock, boy."
"Who was it?" Randy tried to sound angry.
"Who seems to be the happiest on our little fishing trip?" He used his glass to point up towards the pilot area.
"Mike? I can hardly believe it. He doesn't seem like the type that would enjoy getting a blow job."
"Enjoy it! That is the understatement of the year. That little spick got so excited that the old man was able to talk him into a sixty-nine."
"Mike sucked off my father?"
"And let the old guy corn-hole him."
"Well, I'll be damned."
"That's why I thought today's little outing might be rather fun."
"What do you mean?"
"I got myself pretty damn hot and horny last night. First with Luisa, then with my wife and finally in having to watch a couple of cock suckers go to town on each other. At the Casa, or back home in the State, I would never let a guy touch me. Out here on the boat it might be different. If that little mex kid would like to take on my load for size, I just might let him."
"You really want him to blow you?"
"I always said you should try everything once in life. I've never tried it with a guy. And, there is no use to try and hide behind a shocked face, Randy Smithson. Just look at the front of your pants. You got such a damn big hard on, just thinking about it, that I bet you wouldn't mind him licking on your balls for a while, either."
Randy flushed. It wasn't the story from the night before that was arousing him, but the realization that this perfect specimen of manhood was requesting a man to man relationship.
"I expect that you wish me to talk him into this little ding-dong."
"I don't think it will take much talking, to get that little torilla to rip off his clothes and come down here."
Randy shrugged and went top side. Don could hear their muted voices. He pulled at his member until it was fully erect.
His excitement rose when he heard the anchor chain being let out, and the motor stopped down.
They returned to the cabin together. Both had discarded their clothing. Their hard cocks flapped from side to side as they walked. Don's eyes widened in anticipation.
"He's on," Randy said. "With one reservation. It's got to be a give and take proposition."
"Bull shit! I don't mind getting a blow job, but I sure as hell am not going to take a cock into my mouth."
"Tough luck!"
Randy shrugged and turned toward the attractive Mexican youth. Mike stepped forward and with his hand locked his cock on top of Randy's. His hand moved back and forth in a double ejaculation. Randy moved his body to the hand ryhthm.
Mike spoke softly to him in Spanish. Randy smiled and dropped first to his knees and then lay down on the carpeted cabin floor. Mike lay down in the opposite direction.
The black curly head kissed around the balls and up the outside of the cock. Randy let him take the stiff member into his mouth before he moved his body closer. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Don darting his stare back and forth between the two heads. He was determined to give him a good show.
As if the honey-brown cock was the most delectable food in the world, Randy licked up and down it's entire length. While Don watched, in envy, he placed his lips over the hard noggin. He purposely made the sucking sounds louder than usual.
Don inched down off the bunk and eased his body into the back of Mike. He tried to get his stiff cock lined up with the brown ass-hole. Mike slapped him away.
"Come on, you guys, have a heart. I'm the one who suggested this little game." They ignored him and continued to suck on each other.
'Don took one of Mike's hands and tried to put it upon his cock. The hand was pulled away. His frustration was to the breaking point. He moved his body in behind Randy. He didn't try to stick himself into Randy's behind. Instead he arched his body over Randy's thigh and brought his cock down right beside where Mike was accepting the long extension from his bosses body. Don moved in closer so that the head of his cock was pressing against Mike's cheek. He brought his stiff cock over to the corner of the sucking mouth. Randy pulled out of the cavern. For a second the mouth was an empty oval. Don took the advantage and pushed his own hard tube into the awaiting jaws. Mike sucked deeply and pulled him all the way in.
"Son-of-a-bitch! That is heaven," he moaned.
Randy moved away, so that Mike could get better leaverage. He straightened out their bodies. Don kept his lips tightly sealed. Randy moved behind his back and reached over his shoulder to begin jacking off Mike. He moved the cock forward with each pull. When it was panting with desire he rubbed the side of it up and down Don's cheek. There was no resistance. Randy signaled Mike to give Don the full treatment. Mike's mouth began to move in circles as it coursed up and down. Don's body showed the pleasure that he was feeling.
Randy took the cock head and brought it to the clamped lips. Gently he moved it back and forth over the area where they met. By fractions they relaxed. Randy did not press the cock forward, but just kept it moving upon the lips. They parted slightly. He moved the cock forward. The lips came farther open. The ovalled head was passed beyond the rough crust. The lips flared into an OH. Randy pressed Mike on the ass to move him in closer. It was not necessary. Don moved his head in acceptance. The jaws unlocked and pushed the mouth down over the throbbing head. Randy released his hold on Mike's cock. Don's mouth was accepting it willingly.
Hungrily Randy's hands smoothed over the tense shoulders. The spine quivered as he moved to it's base. The fine down, on the ass mounds, bristled as he barely touched their ends. The body was busily concentrating on two points of sensuous encounter, thus did not heed Randy as he slowly pulled the mounds apart.
He placed his blond head in line with the separated buns. With ovalled mouth he pushed hot breath toward the hole. It excited his own libido to see the slit expand and contract with each air flow. The pointed dart jutted from his mouth. Tenderly he outlined the brown lip. The body shuddered and drew away. Again he cautiously approached. He avoided the outer rim and put the tongue into the opening. An erogenous zone was tapped. The butt reared back to greet his awaiting mouth. Randy bore his tongue deep into the adit. The hips came to life with acceptance. The sounds eminating from Mike's filled throat told Randy that Don was reacting upon his cock, because of the anal activity.
He worked his tongue around and around until the tunnel was pulsating with uncommon desire. Randy slide his tongue up the cleavage and travelled the length of the spine, until he could start a fornicating action into the ear socket. His body was resting in the small of Don's back. He did not pursue. His hard cock was poised and waiting, but he would not make the first move. It was for the hips to do the inviting.
It did not take Don long to make up his mind. He hunched back and felt the smooth head meet his closed ass. With his free hand he lifted up the top bun. The cock slipped to the hole. He rotated his hips to get it in line. Randy, now hand-held his cock in position. The ass backed up again. This was all the signal Randy needed. He pushed himself forcefully inward. Don gave out with a pained gasp. Randy waited for the tissues to relax. Again it was the hips that gave the sign of submission and for the violation of his manhood to proceed.
Randy looked down into the working face of the Mexican lad. It glowed with that inner light that can only come from lechery. Randy could tell that he also wanted to share in fucking this male virgin. He would get his opportunity. Randy wanted the lad to know that they were in a cooperative venture. He reached down with his hand and patted the curly black mass. His hand traced over the handsome face, as it worked. The boy had a long nose and flaring nostrils. Randy put his little finger into the right entrance and proceeded with a fucking action.
It was early evening before each of the men had tasted of every portion of each others body.
CHAPTER NINE
"I find his concern, as a husband, less than enthusiastic," I admitted to Karl Smithson, after I had had a chance to watch Don Dawson on his return from the fishing party.
The rest fo the Casa had taken me to be nothing more than just a business associate of Mr. Smith-son. Only Karl, Sandy and Randy knew of my true purpose in being there. I had flown down immediately after receiving the phone call from Karl and Sandy. Randy seemed put out at my being upon the scene.
Saturday night was very quiet. The fishing party retired almost as soon as they returned. Duly and Mason came upon the scene long enough for dinner and then retreated.
The fishing boat answered very few questions, in my mind. Granted, the diving suit did look like a favorable clue. It became very important evidence when I pulled the disc out of the radar scope and charted the course of the vessel' for that day. I rushed back to the Casa. It was after midnight. Not a light showed in any of the rooms.
I found my own room just like I had ordered it to be: a plate of sandwiches, a jug of strong black coffee, a bolt of black cloth, a roll of heavy tape and a stethoscope.
I made a black out curtain for the window and a skirt for the door jam. Upon my feet I put a pair of sneakers and with my listening devise in hand my first inspection tour of the evening.
Upon returning I turned on only the desk lamp. With a goodly sized sandwich, a mug of black coffee and a yellow pad I started doing some heavy thinking. I had an hour before I would check out my sleeping ... beauties again.
I had not had an opportunity to question anyone concerning the events of Friday night, as yet, so I was really working in the dark.
My answer lay on the yellow pad. Still I couldn't see it.
Dawsons: She's attacked. He's fishing. Used diving equipment. Tonight: Lights out. Arguing in bed.
Dully-Mason: In room all day. Tonight: Sounds that would make any cock rise.
Larry Battle: In town shopping. Tonight: Lights out. Pacing back and forth. Heavy cigarette odor. Not American. Cheap Mexican.
Luisa: Took care of Clara Dawson. Tonight: No sound.
Mike: Fishing party. Tonight: No sound. Karl: Non-suspect ... Tonight: Two sets of breathing....
Randy: Fishing party. Tonight: Two sets of breathing....
Sandy: Non-suspect ... Tonight: Two sets of breathing....
Marianna: Non-suspect. Period. Tonight: Loud snores, beavy of children's breathing.
The report stayed much the same through my tours at one and two o'clock.
Maybe it was the coffee that woke me up. Maybe it was the patter of feet in the hallways, between two and three.
Not counting Marianna and the children, I had ten people to watch in eight rooms. Two rooms were vacant of their normal occupants. That should leave ten people in six rooms. I recounted my three reports. I kept coming up with eleven people. It was impossible.
I was sandwiched in between the Dawsons and Larry Battle's rooms. They each had been quiet for some time. I sat with the ear plugs in tact and the cup pressed against the hallways door. I must have dozed.
The Patter of feet sounded like a baby elephant coming to the water hole. Within five minutes a second set shuffled along the flagstones. And now I listened to the third set. Two had been male. One female. I was just about ready to see where everyone had alighted, especially the odd body, when the stethoscope picked up the creaking of a door. The footsteps passed directly in front of my door.
Paused. Listened. Padded on. I waited until I was sure they had rounded the corner. I flicked off the lights and noiselessly went into the hall.
The one night light, high in the beamed ceiling, made it seem sinister. I inched to the hallway that led to the foyer. The lobby was dark. A figure was silhouetted against the glass sliding door. I recognized the broad shoulders.
He crossed the patio and skirted the pool. By the time I caught up with him again he was softly knockling on Luisa's door. There was no response. I was sure that she had to be the female steps I had heard in the hall. He departed.
I stole up to her door and pressed my ear against the panel. I could detect no sound. I lost five minutes in returning for the stethoscope. This time again I heard nothing with my bare ear, but the instrument picked up muted and anxious breathing. She had her face buried in the pillow so no sound would escape.
My nose picked up an acrid odor. My mind came quickly alert. I raced to the rear of the second building. White smoke was pouring from the incinerator. The stench was immediately recognizable. Burning rubber. There was enough of the diving suit left for me to salvage. It had all been a trick to get me out of my room so that the diving suit could be destroyed. It was a greater piece of evidence than I had anticipated. I wrapped it in newspaper and took it back to my room.
Upon the return journey I again checked out the rooms. Not everyone was accounted for! The count was back to ten people, or should have been. I was missing Mike, Larry, Don Dawson and Mister X.
But that wasn't my greatest shock. The diving suit from the fishing boat still resided on my bed. This was a second suit. It had been scratched and clawed at. In the visor were a few strands of hair very much similar to that of Clara Dawson. There was another element that was most intriguing. I had almost crossed the husband off my list of suspects. He once again became my star.
Mexico is the last country in the world to reside in, if you like to sleep in on a Sunday morning. (Needless to say that I wasn't sleeping). The bells start calling the faithful with the first rays of morning light. I had not counted on my own little contingent being very religious. They surprised me.
By six a.m. the station wagon and jeep were loaded with Marianna and her brood, Mike, Luisa, Karl, Randy, Sandy, Larry Battle and the duo from Diego-Dully and Mason. Either all Catholics, or going just for the ride to town. It seemed an ungodly hour for sight seeing.
Once again I should have counted noses. I didn't. Every thing was quite calm and screene in the Dawsons room. My eyes felt like sand paper. I shoved the rubber suit off the bed and told myself I would rest until I heard them stirring next door or the sound of the rest returning.
I died!
I thought it was night, when my disoriented mind came awake. Mentally I was kicking myself for sleeping the whole day through. The room was pitch black. I looked at the window and could see a million tiny stars in the jet black sky. I tried to make out the constellations. They were all out of place. Silly ass, I told myself, as I spring from the bed and tore away the black out curtains. The bright glare made my head swim dizzily.
Thump! Thump! Thump! I knew what had awakened me, that crazy, muted thumping sound. I didn't need the stethoscope to tell me that it was coming from next door. Thump! Thump! Thump! It repeated itself. I put the instrument to the wall. Besides the ear shattering thumping I could detec a strange mumbling. It wasn't kosher.
The Dawsons door was locked. No one answered my knock. The thumping continued. I backed across the hall and ran to the panel. The full weight of my shoulder hardly budged it from the frame. On the third assault it gave with a rending tear. The billowing drapes showed that the patio door was open.
She lay ass-side-down on the metal, four-poster, double bed. A wide swath of elastic tape covered her eyes and mouth. Her arms and legs were spread eagled to the four corners. There were splotches of dark red, on the white sheets, where the rough hemp twine had eaten into the flesh of ankles and wrists.
I almost gaged as I flicked on the overhead light. Her entire body was bathed in oozing red liquid. I thought she had been fiendishly cut apart. The fact that she was still alive amazed me.
There is only one way to remove that big a chunk of tape from human flesh. One quick jerk! I really should have taken the mouth tape off second. Her scream was un-nerving. She narrowed her eyes into slits of hate. The fact that most of her eyebrows were still on the tape accounted for her pain.
"Get me untied, you stupid bastard," she snarled.
With that much blood on her body she should be weak and almost dead. All she could think about was getting untied.
I sniffed. Funny! I put two fingers on her breast and wiped them toward me. She glared as I put them to my mouth. Strange! Black-rasberry? No! Red-rasberry! She was covered in red-rasberry jam, except for three places where it had been eaten away.
"What in the God damn hell is going on in here," Don Dawson rasped behind me.
"Don't you know, Mr. Dawson?" I said coolly as I turned.
He stood in the patio door with a bathing towel over one shoulder. His hair and trunks were still damp.
"What do you mean? What has happened to my wife?" He pleaded and tried to dart past me. I blocked his way.
"Wife?" Clara snapped. "Twice you've let your WIFE be sexually molested." She started to blubber.
"Oh, no! Not again," he moaned. Coming from the brightness into the darkened room his eyes only now came into full focus. "My God! Untie her! She's bleeding to death."
"Jam."
"Jam?"
"Yes, Jam," she hissed through her tears, "I've literally been eaten. Doesn't that excite your oversexed little penis?"
I let Don move toward his wife.
"Ah, honey, I only went for a little swim."
"Keep away from me," she shrieked. "For all I know it was you. You always have had a queer taste for rasberry jam."
"Don't be childish, Clara!"
"Keep away," she bellowed.
"Do as she say, Mr. Dawson. Sit down over there while I loosen her hounds."
"And who in the hell are you, to tell me what to do?"
"I'm really a private detective, Mr. Dawson. Hired by Sr. Smithson to look into the first assault upon your wife." I answered him as I pen knifed through the four restraining binds.
"My your efficient," he said sarcastically. "Now you have too unsolved cases on your hands."
I ignored him. "Are you alright, Mrs. Dawson," I asked soothingly.
"Why, of course," she mocked sweetly. "I feel like I just woke up from a pleasant little nap. Shit!" She hissed. "I feel like I've just been tongued by a bull moose. Do you mind if I go take a shower and slip into something not quite so sticky."
"In a moment. I would like to ask you a few questions first and examine you."
"Why, of course, doctor! Would you also like to know when I had the measles?"
"Can it sister! I want to find out as much as possible about this madman as I can, or would you like to let him try for a third time?" She shrunk inwardly at the thought. "Now tell me what happened, as I look around."
"I was sleeping," she started meekly. "I heard the patio door open. I thought it was Don, my husband, returning."
"Then you knew that he had left the room?"
"I vaguely remember it. I thought it was still night when he first got up. But I must have been wrong, for it was now daylight. I remember drinking part of a cup of coffee, feeling sick and going back to sleep."
"You did leave twice, didn't you?" I interrupted her and shot the question at her husband.
"Yep!" He was turning taciturn. "Why?"
"To take a swim, I told you."
"Last night? Or should I say early this morning?"
"I was restless and went for a walk and cigarette."
"Did that walk take you by Luisa's door?"
"It might have!" He now lit a cigarette to hide the nervousness that was rising in his voice.
"Did she let you in?" I asked quickly.
"No!" He snapped without thinking. Then blushed as he was caught.
"You sneaky bastard," Clara exploded.
"Easy, Mrs. Dawson," I soothed. "Go on with your story." She blinked at me unbelieving that I was going to let her husband off so lightly. She didn't know that I wasn't half finished with him.
"Well ... I ... it was all so sudden. Just like at the beach. The hand was over my mouth and then tape was pressed across my eyes. I tried to scream, but the tape was put over my mouth. It was like reliving a nightmare. I braced myself waiting for the big cock to be rammed into me again. It didn't happen. I could feel mounds of sticky stuff being spread all over my body. I didn't know what it was, but thought the worst. My mind even got so mixed up that I actually thought I could smell shit." She blushed. "Excuse my language."
"Don't mind us, Mrs. Dawson. After what you been through, you use any words that will help discribe the whole situation."
She gave a triumphant glare at her husband. She was the center of the spet light again and was basking in its glow.
"When I was completely covered he began to lick at my breasts."
Again I interrupted. "You say 'he'. How can you be certain it was a male?"
"Mr. Carey, even a bull-wyke would not attack female flesh the way that fiend did."
It was Don Dawson's turn to shoot a glance at his wife. He didn't even think she knew about lesbians, let alone what a bull-wyke was.
"As I was saying," she hurried on so that she wouldn't have to explain herself, "he licked all around my breasts. Then he would scrap off the jam with his teeth. I mean really dug his teeth into my breasts and scraped off the goo."
"Then he ... well ... got down to ... well ... Damn! Why mince words. All you have to do is just look at me and you can see what he did. He ate out my box. Yah! Not just licked the jam away. He would take handfuls of the junk and shove it into my cunt. He wasn't content until he had tongued every bit of it back out. Even that which he had pushed the farthest in. Try keeping your cool sometime when someone has jammed you full of rasberry and then wants it all .back. I had orgasms on top of orgasms. I must have really sent his kooky little mind on a trip. I could hear him moaning like his time was also near. It must have been. I could feel another application of the jam being applied. This time it wasn't his hand that was putting the stuff in place. Did you ever use rasberry jam for a cock lubricant? Don't try, your girl friend will hate you forever. The seeds scratch like hell. They didn't have a chance to scratch me much. He had worked himself into such a dizzy lather that he came before he had anymore than just the head in place. That's about it. He showered and let himself out."
I checked out the bathroom. There was a residue of rasberry seeds in the shower, but not one other identifing clue.
I let Clara Dawson in to clean herself up. I paid little heed to her husband as I continued by search of the bedroom. I moved around until I could be behind him.
"Where did you go for your swim?" I asked.
"Down to the beach."
"The one where your wife was molested?"
"How should I know? I wasn't here yesterday." I was close enough to smell his hair without him noticing it. Chlorine! Salt water beaches don't use chlorine. The Casa pool did. It was less than a hundred feet from the open patio door. Surely he would have heard his wife struggling. Then, I had not heard her right next door. I, however, had been asleep.
I determined it was time for me to get a few of the events of Friday night in order. We talked as long as the shower was running.
Don Dawson had made a play for Luisa. She had turned him down flat. His male ego had been damaged. He had heard that she was a good lay from a buddy who had been a guest at the Casa earlier in the season. He couldn't understand why she would cast him a side.
He then went on to relate the events of his peep show. He admitted sitting on the patio balcony of his room and jacking off, while watching Karl and Mike sixty-nine. This did not surprise me about my employer, as it was one of the main reasons he kept me on retainer. The world is full of blackmailers, and most of them try to shake down a masculine type homosexual. Karl Smithson never paid off. He paid me instead to scare them off. or bring the police in on the shake down. That's what I thought this case was going to turn out to be. I got that hunch again as Don Dawson admitted having known Karl before.
"When was that?" I asked unconcerned.
"Several years ago, in New York. He probably doesn't even remember me. I was in the Navy. He picked me and a couple of buddies up for a good time. I drank his booze, but chickened out on the bedroom scene. He paid me anyway."
Another faggot of information thrown on my smoldering fire of clues. This boy really puzzled me. The whole damn case was beginning to bug me. I was sure that he was the invader of his wife. But, each time I would get close to nailing him, he would slither out of my reach like a garden snake.
I had to think. There was still something missing from Friday night. I excused myself and left them alone to patch up their own family differences.
CHAPTER TEN
Although, for the remainder of the daylight hours of Sunday, I talked to each of them individually; some of their stories are inter-related.
The evasive Larry Battle had had three very interesting encounters on that evening.
Shortly after dinner he had cornered Luisa in the pantry. He planted a slobbery kiss on her mouth, and tried to make their bodies mesh through the cloth. Luisa had gently shoved him away.
"Ah, come on, baby. Don't you want your big daddy again?"
"If I wanted a pig, senor, I could find plenty of my own country men, without having to cross over the border."
"Bitch!" He growled. His massive hand caught her across the fleshy part of her cheek. It produced more noise than it did actual pain. "That's only a sample of what I really can do. I'll expect you in my room, and ready to go, in ten minutes." He stormed away. Luisa never kept the assignation.
Larry waited in his room for two hours, thinking she had been detained by some manner of work. As the minutes ticked away his anger smoldered into a white hot fury.
He heard a body slice the water of the pool. He could make out a female frame cutting through the water. Coy, he thought; the little bitch doesn't want to attract attention to our little tete-a-tete. He jumped into his swimming costume and practically ran to the pool side.
He was disappointed to find Clara Dawson emerging from the water. The one piece suit clung to her body and showed it off to its best advantage.
"Not very safe swimming alone, Mrs. Dawson."
"Clara," she smiled as she rubbed herself with a Casa towel. "I'm not afraid to swim alone. There doesn't seem to be many sharks in this water."
"Human or otherwise."
"I think I can protect myself from either variety."
"Even without your husbands protection?"
"I think he has other fish in mind," she revealed her inner feelings very candidly.
"Oh," he raised an eyebrow.
"The boy seems to have hot pants for the little senorita."
This brought his anger back full steam. So that's where the slut was, bedding down with the corn fed farm boy. In that instant he resented Don more than he did Luisa.
"Perhaps you should play the same game." He tried to move to her side. She side stepped away.
"Just because he's making a fool of himself doesn't mean that I have to also."
"Who's going to know. My room is right over there."
"I would know, Mr. Battle."
"Larry."
"I think I now prefer Mr. Battle." An ice age had come into her voice.
"If your so set against fun and games, why do you keep sneaking sly little peeks at my crotch."
"How observant of you. I was just curious as to how much padding you have to use to get such an effect."
"Padding hell! That's all pure cock meat."
"How nice for you."
"It could be nice for you, also."
"Sorry. My husband has enough to keep me quite happy."
"Plus the little Mexican chic?"
"I don't think that is any of your damn business," she flared.
"I like you, honey. You got fire. You also got a curvy little snatch. I always say that the meat is sweeter, the closer to the bone." He moved too swiftly for her, and got a good feel of her ass.
"Keep away from me," she said slowly and with meaning.
"Honey, don't play so hard to get."
"I said keep away." She grabbed a Coke bottle by the neck end and held it over her head.
"Are you having a problem, Mrs. Dawson?" Neither had heard Karl Smithson approach the pool area.
"Good evening, Mr. Smithson. No problem. Just trying to make Mr. Battle understand that when a LADY says no, she means ... N ... O ... If you'll excuse me, I think I shall retire."
Karl Smithson waited until she was out of voice range before he turned to the pilot.
"You seem prone to make nothing but mistakes, don't you Larry."
"I don't follow."
"I find it in very bad taste for you to try and put the make on one of my sons guests."
"My private life doesn't concern you."
"That's correct, Larry. But, as far as I'm concerned, when we are in a situation such as this, you are on duty twenty-four hours a day."
"Don't give me that crap," he snapped as he started to turn beet red again. "I fly your god damn plane. Nothing more than that. Fly. Period."
"We seem to have had this discussion before."
"Yah! Same old record. Over and over again. I'm getting a little sick of it."
"Your getting sick," Karl barked. "I'm getting damn sick of you. I didn't mind your homing in on the boat trip and knocking off a piece of the Mexican pussy. She probably went for your big donger. Your two of a kind. Hired help! Do you understand? You don't mix with the family of the guests."
"Tell that to your son."
"What's that supposed to mean."
"He didn't seem to regard me as hired help, out of the boat, when he went down and ate on my cock."
"Your a God damn liar."
Larry grinned sardonically. "Ask him! Or don't you want to face up to the fact that your son is just as big a cock sucker as you are."
Karl was purple with rage. "So we're back to the same old saw. You never will forget or forgive, will you?"
"Why should I? It's a good paying job."
"I regret that I ever hired you."
"Oh, no. Mr. Smithson. You don't regret that. You just regret that you got drunk one night and put the make on me. You rue the fact that I beat the living shit out of you. It wouldn't do for every body to know that your queer. You see, there's that old look again. What is it, boss-man. fright? Is the little old man afraid that his snow-white reputation is going to be ruined? Now, I think you had best go calmly back to your room and keep your little trap shut. I'm going into that room and get me a little of the Dawson tail."
"Your not going anywhere," Karl said in measured tones, "I've put up with your blackmail long enough. What is it? There years? I don't care anymore. Go to my two sons and tell them what you know. Now, that you know about Randy, I don't think it will be a great shock to Sandy. While they were in school I didn't want any bad publicity. I did it for them. Now, I don't give a damn!
"I will expect you to have the plane ready for departure early Monday morning. Until that time you will either conduct your self like a gentleman, or I will make arrangements to put you up in a hotel in town. When we arrive back in Dallas you can consider yourself discharged."
"Not so fast, Mr. Smithson." Larry moved in for a showdown.
"I'm quite finished, Mr. Battle." Karl chopped off each word. For the first time in years he brought himself up to his full oil-field height. "One more bit of trouble out of you, sir, and I'm likely to go to the District Attorney with a very interesting story."
"Another bluff, big-man."
"No bluff, Larry. An ace I've been saving for a rainy day, such as this. Several insurance companies would be most interested to know about a certain airplane accident. You know the one I'm speaking of. Your business partner was killed in that crash. A failing business suddenly came very much to life after that. I would much rather go about in life with the tag of queer, than to have to face people as a murderer. Good night. Larry. I hope I don't see you again until Monday morning. And by the way, don't monkey with the plane. If it crashes and I'm killed, Miss Henderson has standing instructions to take a certain envelope to the police. I think I make my point very clear." He walked away before there could be a rebuttal.
This came as a big surprise to me. I had worked for Mr. Smithson for several years. These little scenes could be my answer. Larry was turned down by Luisa, Clara and then fired by Karl. He had motive to do harm to Karl, but why Clara Dawson. It didn't jib. Unless? I hated to think of the possibility, but it had to be aired. Was it a frame-up?
Sure Karl was my boss, but it could be the answer. He was framing either Don or Karl for the assaults on Clara. Just for revenge? It was asinine. So was life. I had to find out from Karl if my theory had any merit.
"You know, Phil," he slapped his knee, as he sat across from me in his room, "I though I recognized that lad. But that was a few years ago. He was just a downy cheeked puppy at the time. He's matured. He's not the scared rabbit that he was then."
"What was the action?" I asked.
"God, I don't know if I can recall. It was Christmas time. Randy was off skiing at Aspen. I was lonely. I called the serviceman's YMCA and told them to send some boys over for a Christmas dinner. Harlow fixed a big turkey with all the trimmings. I think there were fourteen of us at the table."
"Christ! You didn't try to put the make the whole lot did you."
"Hardly," Karl laughed. "I'm quite a man, but not that good. No, as I recall, several of the boys had free tickets to Radio City Music Hall. I tried to get tickets for the others, but you know what it's like on Christmas day. We decided to play poker instead."
"You lousey bastard. How much money did you filch them out of?"
"Phil, give me credit for having a little Christmas spirit. Just because I always seem to get a good chunk of money out of you, doesn't mean that I took the boys to the cleaners. As a matter-of-fact they took several hundred off of me."
"Legally?"
"Let's just say that I didn't play as hard as I usually do. But, this is getting the story told backwards. Besides the Dawson kid and myself, there were four other sailors. They were all clean cut, good looking kids. Somewhere along the line one of the sailors brought out a dirty comic book. It was very crude. They were all getting such a charge out of reading it that I told them that it was tame, in comparison to what I had in the den.
"I took the whole troop in and let them bug their eyes out at my art gallery and books. They hand a field day. I was fixing myself a drink when I suddenly became aware of the fact that each had taken a book and departed back to the living room. Only one perfect specimen of a male was still in the room. Somehow he had been selected as the spokesman.
"You sure have a great collection here, Mr. Smith-son," he said.
"I rather enjoy it. Another drink?"
"Don't mind if I do. Man, this is real turn on material. If you let those gobs read too much of it your going to have a housefull of stiff cocks." He laughed nervously.
"Then what will we do about it?"
"I guess jerk off in your bathroom or go away horny."
"Seems like a waste, either way."
"That's what I would think, but I don't know about the others. Me, I don't care if a guy likes to play the skin flute. You've been real good to us, Mr. Smithson. Dinner. Money from the poker game. I kinda think we owe you something in return. Besides, I got a stiff one that sure needs taking care of."
"With that," Karl Smithson went on with the story, "the boy played the game of the thirteen buttons. I blew him. He left and sent in another. They were all well hung studs. Dawson was to have been the last. He started crying like a baby. I wasn't going to force anyone into something they didn't want to do."
"His denial put a damper on the whole party. They all left soon after that."
"You never saw him again?"
"Not till this weeked. The other boys came back several times, but that's another story."
"You have no grudge against the boy?"
"That's a stupid question. I saw the kid once. I've had hundreds of turn downs in my life. I haven't made it a practice of going around scrawing guys wives, just because they've refused me their penis. Don't be absurd, Phil."
I was being absurd. Karl Smithson may have had his faults, but he was a perfect gentleman. When a person said no to him, he took it to mean just that. I should know, for I said no to him the first time that we met.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By supper time Sunday I had talked with everyone, except the twins, Luisa and Don Dawson. I was saving him for the last.
I tackled Sandy first.
"It was quite amusing, Phil," Sandy smiled at me from across his desk. "Luisa had come to my room about nine o'clock, on Briday. I had fixed us both a drink and then we had gotten comfortable on my bed. She's quite the little snuggle bunny. She loves to chew on your ear lobs and a button at a time completely disrobe you. It's quite sexually satisfying to have such an attractive broad strip you down.
"She makes me hot just to look at her, so all the fore pleasure is just to make her feel like she is turning me on."
"In case you haven't guessed, she goes for the unusual. Needless to say that that was one of her really rare nights. After she got my clothes off and made sure that I had a real good boner, she did her own little strip tease. Man, that woman has a body that won't stop."
"She come over and sprawled out on the bed. Not like a woman getting ready for sex, but more like a kitten that is stretching before a little nap. 'Come here', she said through half parted lips. 'I've got something new to show you'."
"Phil, she took and pushed her breasts together so that they looked like a giant sized cunt. I almost shot my wad. She would mold those brown mounds so that they would open into a yawning mouth and then snap close again. My pecker was jumping just to get between them."
"I got on the bed and straddled her belly. She pulled her breasts apart and had me lay my cock right between them. Then she pressed them over my cock. It was like having a big set of cunt-lips enfold you. Damn, I've never felt anything so damn soft or so damn sexy. 'Throw the meat to them', she commanded. I started to use my knees to rock me forwards and back. It made me tingle all over. Just like the first time that I jacked off. Man, I was in heaven. I could feel my come starting to rise and the God damn door opened."
"Well, I barked, don't just stand there. Come in or get the hell out. If you come in lock the damn thing so this doesn't turn into an orgy."
"Really, I must admit that I was quite excited by the thought of this intruder. My brother and I had talked a lot about sex, but had never really been close to each other during any of our actual combats. You see, Phil, I had found out that my brother was bi-sexual. I was curious to see how far he would go, if I was included in the party."
"He locked the door and then just stood staring. His donger rose so fast in his pants that I feared that he would burst the seams. I had not dislodged myself from the surrounding breasts, and took back up my rocking motion."
"Randy's numbed condition lasted but a second, then he was quickly discarding his clothing. For me it was like looking into a mirror. We are so much alike, yet I had never paid too much attention to the fact. It was almost frightening. The hair swirled around our breasts in the same fashion, then the golden down swept in a straight matte to the crotch. He was now in full bloom. I might have been looking at my own cock."
Sandy twirlled in his chair and looked out the office window to the near cliffs. His eyes had the look of a man who was recalling a pleasurable scene. A scene that he wanted to retain forever. It was almost as if I was watching him have a premonition of what was to come. He had to record every element of that encounter, or it would be lost forever.
"When we are kids, Ole boy, we get some strange notions. I remember when I first started to jack off. I knew about cock-sucking, although I had never experienced it. I would look down at my cock, in my hand, and dream that I was able to bend in two, so that I would be able to give myself greater pleasure, than with just my hand. As I sat on Luisa's chest and watched Randy undress, I knew that I was going to be able to find out what that sensation was like. He was so much like me, that it was going to be just like doing things to myself."
"I didn't want Luisa or Randy to catch on to what I really wanted, so I inched out of her breasts and began to kiss my way down to her vee. Her body became a slithering mass of excitment. My own body was not exactly calm, as Randy had begun to play with my cock. His hand felt unusually strange. I almost lost my mind when he put his lips over the head and sucked the shaft in deep. I had been overly primed from my action between the breasts. I couldn't hold back the flow. My come shot into his mouth in racking spurts. Before' he could swallow I grabbed him by the head on his hair and pulled him away. He looked hurt. I took his head and forced it down upon Luisa's cunt. He had never eaten pussy before. His mouth was so full that his cheeks were blown out. I squeezed them together, so that my fluid was forced into her cavity. This seemed to arouse his passion, for he went, wild in trying to tongue back the white mass.
"I pressed my crotch into Luisa's face. She took my softened cock and began to suck life back into it. This left me free to try something new and daring. I closed my eyes."
"My mind could feel her lips playing on the flesh that was returning to hardness. I didn't want to start until it was fully erect. I put my head in my brothers lap. His body tensed as my lips came in contact with his balls. They were the softest things I had ever kissed before. His cock was steel hard. It quivered as I moved my lips to it's base. I kissed my way up one side and then let my head rest sideways on his belly. Through the skin I could hear his heart pounding. It aroused me to my zenith to know how excited I was making him. His body was shaking in anticipation of what was to come. I dallied on the head with my tongue to keep him in suspense."
"The hammer-head was like popping a whole plum into my mouth, but this plum had more to it than just the rounded noggin. I moved my mouth down and then back up. It was exhilerating. I used his cock as an extension of my own mind. With Luisa sucking on me and me sucking on Randy, I got the wild feeling that I actually was going down on myself. The harder I worked my mouth, the more the sensation increased.
"It was the finest sex I have ever experienced."
Next I talked with Luisa. Her recollection of the evening was strangely dissimilar.
"Si, Senor Carey, I go to Don Sandy's room. He invite me. I think is a good thing. That big beast, Senor Battle, he is the madman. He want Luisa to do all kinds of sexy things. I don't think I like him. But, he is only part of the problem. These Senor Dawson, he also is after Luisa and her body. I think maybe yes, maybe no. Then I think no. He is married man. Luisa not wants trouble from a wife. He is much attractive and probably plenty fun in the bed. But Luisa like her job, so she tell him no, and she accept invite from her boss, Don Sandy."
She was being very clever. I knew that she spoke English as well as I did, but this suedo-Spanish lingo was quite charming. I let her keep up the front. If I let her think, that I thought, that she was an illiterate Mexican, I might get more information.
"Then what happened?"
"Don Sandy he fix me the drink. Is good drink. Then he say dance with me. I got to his arms and he pulls me tight as the music comes from his radio. He dance very close and I can tell that he is very hot man. We dance more and he puts his hand up under Luisa's blouse. His hands are very suggestive. Luisa doesn't no complain. He is the boss. He unbutton Luisa's blouse and make it fall to the floor. Then he kiss, kiss me, here and here. He kiss so long that my nipples get very hard and tingly. All the time that he kiss he is taking away the skirt. He make me also very hot.
"I do not have to help him with his clothes. They come off very rapido. He is most attractive golden man without his clothes. Luisa likes what she see and goes to lie down on the bed. He comes to Luisa and let's his hands go all over her body. It makes Luisa squirm with much pleasure. Then Don Sandy he part Luisa's legs with his hands. He knelt between them and with his hand got his big thing in place. My juices were flowing freely with much excitement. It was not difficult for him to move his cock back and forth and open my slit. He groaned as the lovely golden shaft came into Luisa. She groaned to show that she liked it being there. He lay down on Luisa. He is a big man. I think maybe that his chest is going to crush Luisa's breasts. His hips started to send his manhood deep into Luisa and then back out. It is much good feeling.
"Then when we were just getting to have great fun the door opened and Don Randy came into the room. He looked a very angry face. I no want him mad at Luisa, for he is boss also.
"He say, What the hell you doing?'. Don Sandy he says 'Screwing! Join us!'"
"Don Randy he takes all his clothes off and comes to the bed. We all start of kiss and our hands are on several bodies at once. Is very sexy time. I be with Don Randy on the boat, with the monster. Don Randy he give all his attentions to the pig. Luisa she want Don Randy to pay attention to her. With my hands and mouth I let him know what Luisa wishes of him.
"The Senor Sandy he pull Luisa over on top of him. Was alright with Luisa, except Luisa on her back. He pull me up to his big cock and slip it into my behind. Is difficult to make movements when on your back. Then I see what he wants. The brother he comes on top of Luisa. He is very gentle as he put his cock into Luisa. He not like other mens.
"Then we all three fuck!"
I was now most anxious to get Randy's story. There was no mistaking that they all gave each other air tight alibis, but the ego of each in building their own role in the affair had me most curious.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I had caught Randy in the shower. He stood in the center of his bedroom floor and finished drying himself off. I could see why each of the others had been mesmerized by his body. If Sandy also processed such a frame, under his loose clothing, then it was a God send that the world had a fauna flora for each of the sexes.
"Sure I went to my brothers room. Any crime in that?"
"No crime, Randy. I'm just trying to put everybody in position on Friday evening so I can see if there is a possible clue as to why Mrs. Dawson was attacked on Saturday morning, and again on Sunday."
"Whoah! Slow down. I hope you don't suspect me, or my brother."
"Shouldn't everybody be suspect?"
"Sure! Except for those who are not sadistic and pussy chasers."
"I'm afraid that doesn't hold much water. I find, in my work, that each of us have a touch of sadism in our make-up. As far as pussy chasing," I shrugged, "who can tell? I've seen some pretty screaming faggots knock off a piece, just to refresh their memories."
"If I needed my memory refreshed, Mr. Carey," Randy said bitterly, "I would be man enough to ask for it outright, and not force myself like some drunken sailor. Besides, I am highly allergic to any kind of berries, and that includes rasberry jam." He folded the towel around his waist and sat upon the bed. He pulled his legs up and began to clip his toe nails. The parted towel allowed me a continued view of his manhood. It rested lazily in his groin. Even at ease it looked primed for battle.
"You don't mind relating the events of Friday evening to me?"
"No. Why should I? You've already talked to the others, I might as well fill your ears with the rest of the sordid details."
"You seem sure that the stories that they told me were sordid."
"What else could they be? I'm not going to hide the fact from you, even if they did, that we had a jolly good sex party."
"Were you invited?"
"Not really! However, I'm no stranger to my brothers room. Nor, are we in the custom of knocking on each others room before entering. I've known for some time that he was balling Luisa. So! No surprise in finding them together.
"She was on all fours, in the center of the Navajo rug. Sandy was entering her dog fashion. They both had the look of extreme pleasure on their faces. I tried to gracefully back out of the room, but Sandy motioned me on in. I didn't know if I was to just watch, or participate.
"Luisa gave me my clue. With her eyes she motioned me forward. I stood directly in front of her. She would have broken his rhythm if she would have taken her hands off the floor, so she kept rolling her head around in my groin. A couple of times she bit at my cock through the cloth. It didn't take me long to get a hard on, what with watching Sandy stuff her cunt full, from behind, and her face and hair rolling back and forth over my lap.
"I started to take down my pants. Sandy said, 'No. Let me.' I stood with my hands on my hips while he reached forward and undid the buckle and flap. He never lost a beat as he pulled down my trousers. Twice his hand brushed against my shorts enclosed cock. It made it jump. He smiled up at me, and then winked. I then knew that it was going to be a real party.
"First one side and then other, of my shorts, were pulled down. My cock jumped up as the cloth sprang over the top. Luisa popped it into her mouth, before Sandy could get ahold of it. As I worked my hips backwards and forwards I could see that Sandy was watching the action. His lips were quivering and his tongue kept darting around the edges to keep them moist. I had never thought about him doing me, before. Now, it became the most important thing in the world. Luisa was doing nothing more than getting me primed, but I saw the lips below me that I really wanted to encircle me.
"I pulled back out of her mouth and stepped out of my pants and shorts. When I came back into position I spread my legs wide and crawled over her head. My spread legs made my cock stand out directly from my body. Sandy's head was right in front of my groin. He hung his head. I thought I had mis-read the signs. My hard dick actually bounced, on top of his golden head, a couple of times.
"He raised his head and my throbbing nogging slipped down over his forehead, almost jabbed out one of his eyes, and came to rest on his cheek, at the corner of his mouth. He pulled it into position with his tongue. I didn't have to move any farther forward. The movement of his hips, into the girl, also moved his head. He opened his mouth and let the natural action press his head farther and farther onto my awaiting cock. I was going out of my mind. Luisa had sucked it just enough to get the sensations flowing. His mouthings were a new kind of sensuality.
"It was weird! I could look down and see myself entering and leaving a mouth that looked so much like my own that it was frightening. The mere sight of it aroused me too quickly and I shot. He pulled off me, sputtering and cursing."
"That was the end of it?" I asked.
"With them, yes!"
"Oh?"
"Well, you did say that you wanted my whereabouts for the entire evening didn't you?"
"Yes. I just took it for granted that you stayed on with them, until you retired."
"Not quite. My own oral cravings had not been sated. Sandy was most put out at me for coming in his mouth. I knew that he wasn't about to let me suck him off. At least not that night.
"I went in search of Mike. He wasn't anywhere in the Casa and his room was dark. I was fairly pissed off about that. I had figured that the boy was mine. I finally got ahold of my temper and told myself that he had probably gone into town for a little nooky. He does swing both ways."
He clipped his last toe nail. I was rather put out. I had been fascinated in watching his manhood recharge itself as he had told the story. It now lay semi-hard on the bed. I felt a strange surge of excitement as he went to the dresser and picked up a buffing board. He took the same position when he returned to the bed. I tried to avert my eyes. This is ridiculous, I told myself. I am one hundred per-cent male. Why am I getting a thrill out of watching this young guys cock stiffen up?
"So then what did you do?" I was most anxious to hear the rest of his story.
"I decided to have myself a couple of drinks and go to bed. As I was so close, I went by to ask Pepe and Luichi to fetch me some ice."
"They are Marianna's children?"
"Yes. They come right after Luisa. None of them share a common father. Only her last three are by the same father."
"Then, they would be the two lads who saved Mrs. Dawson."
"For a detective, whose been here almost twentyfour hours, I'm amazed at your astuteness." I let the barb flow over my head.
"Not to change the subject," I said, "but, what were they doing up there that day."
"Rabbit hunting." He did not seem convincing.
"Are you sure?"
He gave me a slow meaningful smile. "Do you have any jurisdiction in Mexico, Mr. Carey?"
"None. Except for elements of this case."
"Fine! Pepe is an expert shot. He missed seven times that day."
"Why?"
"He was stoned."
"Stoned?"
"Sure. High. Potted. Off on a trip. Now do you read me? There are several caves in those cliffs. There are many little glens and hidden patches of fertile land. The boys know that I own that land, and that no one goes to the cliffs. They had been growing pot in the little fields. The rifle was to scare people away."
"Are you sure of this?"
"They told me the night I went by their room. I knocked and went in. There was a blue haze that you could cut with a knife. Both were sitting on the floor with their backs up against the bed. Their eyes were so glassy that they could hardly focus on me. All I needed was one whiff to tell me that they had been smoking marijuana.
"They were both scared to death that I would raise bloody hell. They had been turning on my guests all season long, and even selling the stuff to some of them to take back to the states with them. Funny kids. They probably made as much this season as I did, and all very quietly.
"Who would suspect them? They both look like angels out of a nativity scene. They have acted as room service waiters just for the tips. It was a perfect cover for them to go in and out the various guests rooms and make the switch."
"Do you know why they did it, Phil?"
I shook my head.
"Funny little buggers. Not for themselves. That's what really touched me. All these years that Marianna has been working she has had two dreams. Dreams that she must have mentioned several times to her children. The first was to get enough money so that she would have a good dowry for Luisa. She wanted the girl to marry properly. The second was to own her own Mexican restaurant. They were trying to help make both dreams come true. That's real family togetherness.
"They looked so proud as they told me, that I couldn't get mad. I sat down on the floor in front of them and they offered me a taste of their product. Two pokes told me that they were growing real golden grass.
"They had quite a contraption for smoking it. They had taken the bowl off a pipe and attached a thin rubbed tube. They would load up the bowl and then sit back and pass around the rubber hose. It was dynamite! I was stoned after just a half dozen pokes. I was really travelling.
"Man, did that stuff turn me on. I kept looking at those two and my earlier cravings started coming back in rapid order. I couldn't control my arms or my hands. They kept wanting to reach out and feel what those boys had lodged between their legs. Once I pretended to fall forward. My hand brushed across the flap of Pepe's pants. It wasn't hard, but it was big. I kept smoking and got hung up on staring at his crotch. That snake of his started growing right up the front of his pants. My hand started travelling of it's own accord. It didn't stop until it had come to rest on the hard head. My other hand reached out and landed in Luichi's lap. He was just as hot, and just as ready.
"I ran my hand up and down each of the cocks until they were jumping with excitement. They forgot that I understood Spanish. Luichi said to Pepe, 'I think he wants to jack us off.' Jack them off, hell! I was so hot that I wanted to such the living daylights out of each of them.
"Pepe, the older of the two, got up and excused himself. I don't know if he really had to go to the bathroom, or if he thought things might progress faster if only one was in the room at a time. I considered the latter to be the case and pressed my advantage.
"Luichi slumped back on the floor. He didn't resist as I took his pants apart and pulled out his cock. In my condition it looked much larger than it actually was. But, still, it was a beauty. I pulled the foreskin back and forth a few times and asked him if he had ever been sucked. His eyes got as big as saucers, then a devilish grin crossed his face as he shook it back and forth in the negative. He pumped his hips up and down to let me know that he wasn't afraid to try.
"I took it all the way to the base, with the first assault. His lithe little body became a slithering mass of excitement. I could have held my mouth steady, for he was pumping that tube-in and out of me with lightening speed. 'Caramba,' a voice said behind me. From the corner of my eye I could see the nude body of Pepe. Son-of-a-bitch, that kid had a well molded body. And hair. That lad had more curly black hair on his body than a dozen other men. I like a hairy man. And this kid was all man. Hair, body and cock. I was out of my clothes in nothing flat.
"The younger brother jumped out of his rags at the same time. Pepe asked him, 'Is that fun?' He only grinned in reply. Pepe was shaking as I walked to him. I opened my legs and stepped forward until I had his cock between them. I locked my legs together tight and he pressed his body to mine. My own cock was lying right up the center of his belly. He dry fucked like it was going out of style.
"Will you do to me what you did to Pepe?", he asked. I kept the hard cock between my legs as I slide down his body. The hair was coarse and bristly. It tickled as it rubbed against my body. It was a real he-man feeling. I didn't stop until the hard penis was forced up over my chin. I took him quickly and pulled him down onto the floor. He laid right into my mouth and started to fuck. It was madding. I could feel that tube slipe in and out of my throat. I stole my hand around behind him and started to massage his ass. His entire body became a moving thing. I thought he was going to tear my jaws apart, the way that he rocked his hips from side to side and back and forth.
"Then there was another body seeking attention. Luichi was trying to move in close to my head. He pressed his cock right up along side his brothers. I couldn't take both of them at once, or could I? I opened my mouth wider. Pepe pulled back until the head was between my lips. Luichi brought his cock in at an angle. Both firm heads were pressing against my lips. I opened as wide as I could. A portion of each fought for entrance. I made them hold steady. The cocks were side by side. I could suck a little bit of each, but could give them each more pleasure by running my tongue around the side by side objects. It was delicious. My tongue would travel over the rounded part of one and then drop into the valley between them, then it would climb the other oval and down the far side. The same action was accomplished on the under side.
"It was making them hot as hell, but it would not make them come, unless we worked all night. I told them to stand.
"When they were facing each other I put their cocks one on top of the other. As I knelt and molded their two erect dicks together I was able to slide around behind each and ream out their ass-holes. This dual action sent them into fits of laughter. Again it proved to be nothing more than fore pleasure.
"We returned to the floor. The boys were lying side by side. I would go down on one and build him to a dangerous point and then move my head quickly to the other. Part of their arousement was coming from the newness of the act, but I suspected that the majority of the sensitivity that I was creating was due to their being able to watch the long stiff joint of their brother disappear into a man's mouth. Each would watch the play with avid fascination. s
"Luichi was the first to come. It was like taking honey right off the comb. His cock jumped a dozen times, in my throat, before he lay back in a gasping mass of jitters.
"Pepe was not as quick to shoot his load. I worked and worked. Twice there were false starts. Like a fool I would change my rhythm and we would loose it. He kept hunching up his rear end. Finally I got what he wanted. So that Luichi couldn't see, I snaked my hand under his balls. With my thumb and forefingers I molded those orbs until they were as hard as chestnuts. What Luichi couldn't see was that with each caress, my little finger was working back farther onto his spine. As my mouth rose and dropped. I got the little digit into place and rammed it into his rear end. His hips told of his acceptance. I didn't have to push it in and out more than a dozen times before his cock began to double in size. A torrent of Spanish cuss words escaped his mouth as the sweet fluid gushed into my mouth. I tried to pull my finger away, but his hips closed around it. I kept up the fucking action of finger and mouth until he had shot three times in a row.
"I was so hot that I couldn't stand it. I stood up and arched my back. I took my cock in my hand and began beating it like hell. They both watched me round eyed. Before I was ready to pop, Pepe rolled over onto his stomach and pulled his cheeks apart. I knew that my girth would hurt the hell out of the kid, but he was rolling his ass around in invitation.
"I tried to be as gentle as I could. He gasped as the tube fought it's way into the hole. I knew it wouldn't take but a couple of jabs for me to come. Then there was a weight on my back. Luichi had got the idea and was fighting to get into my own ass. Each time I moved my hips to help his entrance it forced me deeper into the hole below me. Pepe was gritting his teeth in pain. I shot. Oh, God, how I shot my wad. I never knew I had that much juice in me. I just lay there and let it flow. I began to grow soft. This made it feel better for Pepe. I didn't move and let Luichi go ahead and fuck me till his heart was content."
The room was deathly still as he finished speaking. All I was aware of was his long golden bullet throbbing under the towel. The story had aroused my own libido, but not as much as watching his ccck during the relating of the tale. I guess there is in each of us a seed of the queer. We just never know when it will come out. I was fascinated by this man's cock. He had made certain things sound so delightful. I had to get away before I fell into my own trap.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My interview with Don Dawson did not bring me any closer to a finale, but it did reveal something about him, as a person and the peoples lives he crossed during these days and earlier days.
He had come to the Casa with his cock primed for a good time. I don't think he really cared how he got his rocks off, just as long as he got his full share of the sexual activity.
Nor, do I think that he was really frustrated in watching Karl put the make on Mike. I went to the area that he said gave him such a lovely view of Karl's room. Unless the patio chair had been moved, he would have had to part the oleander bushes to see directly into the room. I surmise that that is exactly what he did.
He heard voices coming from the room and went to the hedge. The curtains were open and the bed side light gave enough illumination for him to get a good look.
The sight must have startled him at first. There was Karl in his birthday suit, standing next to the Mexican lad. Karl did not try to hide his nudity. Nor, did he hide what his real intentions were. He rubbed his hand over the front of the boys pants until he had a section of it tented out.
Don continued to watch as Karl extracted the long tube and worked the foreskin back and forth. The blood was rushing to his own cock. He was mesmerized and couldn't leave the scene.
When Karl sat down upon the bed, Don began to sweat with anticipation. Karl pulled the hips towards him and let his mouth go slack. He made the boy do the aiming and thrusting. Only when half of the cock had gone into the mouth did Don have a flash of recollection. He was transported back in time to New York. He remembered having to go to the bathroom. It was right across the hall from the den. He was a guest, with his buddies, in some rich guys apartment. He had thought that it was a queer set-up. Especially when he had begun to show them dirty books and pictures. Don was young. He was anti anything to do with sex that didn't conform with the strict principles of his up bringing.
He had had to take a shit. He closed the door and sat down on the stool. The bathroom door was one solid sheet of mirror. It made him feel funny to sit and stare at himself headon. Especially do to the fact that he was sitting taking a crap. He had snapped out the light in the windowless room. It took a few minutes for his eyes to become adjusted to the darkness. He couldn't believe his own eyes. The door was closed, but he could still see into the room across the hall.
One of his buddies was standing with Karl Smith-son, his host. They were standing very close. Karl handed the handsome kid a big picture book. The boy had to use both hands to hold it open. He couldn't see past it down to his own crotch. Karl moved in closer. He pointed with one hand to something in the book and laughed. The sailor laughed with him. His other hand moved forward under the book. He said something else, but Don could not hear him. He looked at his buddies bell bottom trousers. They were so tight that he could actually see the growth of his long cock as it crept down his leg. The tight pants made every vein stand out in plain view.
The sailor continued to turn the pages and the hand of Karl Smithson moved closer. Each knew what the other was seeking, but it was all a part of the great game of chase. The quick grop of the cock would not have been as sensual.
Don was a babe. He closed his ears to dirty jokes. He walked away when his ship board buddies talked about sex. He had even averted his eyes when they were all looking at the books in Karl's library. He had never seen a sexual act take place. Now, he was trapped. They had not seen him enter the bathroom. He might queer the scene if he left now. It never dawned on him that all he had to do was flick on the light and the scene would fade. Or did he really want the scene to disappear?
His mouth dropped open in surprise as Karl's fingers lightly touched the boys cock. Don thought there would be a donnybrook. He expected to see fists start flying. Instead he saw the boys hips give a slight nudge forward.
As Karl worked up and down the hardening member, with one hand, the other began to loosen the thirteen buttons.
The flap was dropped and the overlaps taken apart. Karl reached down the leg and pulled the cock into the open. The boy never let his eyes leave the book. Karl went down upon his knees. Don's mouth flew even wider open when Karl touched his lips to the hanging ball-sac. He could see the boys body shudder. His own body did the same. He felt a sharp pain. He looked down to see that his cock had extended itself and had become lodged under the seat lip. He reared back, so that his cock could jump up. He looked back at the scene and unthinkingly wrapped his hand around his own cock.
He felt an evil thrill as he watched the mouth work it's way up the under side of the long cock and then encircle the head. They were standing so that he got a perfect side view.
Don pumped harder on his cock as the mouth ate it's way down the whole shaft The sailor squirmed in pleasure. Karl locked his hands around the rounded buns and pulled the body closer. Don couldn't see any portion of the cock. Just a masculine head nestled in a masculine groin.
The sailor threw the book onto the couch. He put both hands on the back of Karl's head and held him in place. His waist and hips became like a belly dancers as he pounded his meat into the accepting cavity. Karl did not fight for release, but seemed to press his head even closer. The sailor reared his head back and opened his mouth. His lips were moving, but Don could not seem to hear what he was saying. It seemed to arouse each of them to even newer heights, for their bodies worked frantically to produce a climax.
Four times Don watched the scene repeated. Each time with a different sailor. Each time with variations on the theme. Each time so heated a contest that he had worked his own cock to a climax.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Don Dawson had not chickened out on that day. He would have loved to have had his cock sucked. But, by the time that it was his turn he was afraid. Afraid of making a fool of himself. He didn't think that he would be able to even get a hard on. He had never been able to bring himself to return to the apartment alone, in later months, for he felt he had made a mess of his first trip. He knew that his buddies were making trips back to have Karl go down on them. He was even sure in his mind that a couple of them were even starting to suck each other off. But, that had been a long time ago. Now, he had an opportunity to see the same scene all over again. This time there was a subtle difference. He could hear. Not fully, but enough to add to his own arousement and desires.
"You like being sucked, don't you?" Karl asked of Mike.
"Si, senor," the brown face grinned. "How many guys have pulled your pud?"
"Only one."
"Whose that?"
"Randy."
"Is that why you were hired? You would let him suck you off?"
"Perhaps. But, I would not do it if I did not like it."
"Have you ever sucked him off?"
"No."
"Do you want to?"
"Some time, perhaps."
"Do you want me to teach you how? So you can really give him a thrill the first time?"
"I don't know. I don't know if I like to do it."
"Do you think you can come again?"
"Sure! Mike he likes to come. I have come four or five times a night for Don Randy."
"See that bill?" Karl pointed toward a twenty laying on the dresser. The boys eyes bugged. "That's yours, on the condition that you come again, and you let me teach you how to suck a cock."
"Alright!" Money talks a strong language.
"Now, lay down on the bed. No. With your feet towards the pillow. I'm going to lay down next to you, but in the other direction. I'm going to take your cock back in my mouth again. Don't try to take mine until you're really ready, because I'm ready to pop now. Just open your lips and bring the head to them. Wet your tongue and run it around your lips. Then wet the top of the cock. Let the head slide onto the wet lips. Don't try to take it too fast or you will choke. Move your mouth down the cock, letting your tongue and spit wet it as you go. You'll have less trouble if the cock is good and wet and you're the only one that can make it that way."
"When you get it all sticky then you can start pushing your mouth up and down on it. At first just do it with your lips resting lightly on the outer skin. As you start to get the feel of the roundness moving in and out of your mouth you will start getting the feel of how warm and soft it is on the surface, but so very hard under the skin. Then you will want to press your lips farther down upon that harness. You'll feel swallow when the cock in coming into your mouth. When you are pulling your head off of it, then pull in your cheeks, so they are firm around the cock. Set yourself a rhythm and keep to that pattern."
Don had listened as attentively as the pupil. As Mike proceeded to follow the instructions, Don found that he was having his mouth go through the same actions. Mentally he could almost feel the cock in his virgin mouth. He opened his flap and took out his cock.
Karl, nor Mike, knew that as they experienced their climaxes, that another orgasm was taking place outside the window.
It had been this little mid-night peep-show that had fired up Don for the boat trip. He knew that Mike played the game. He had heard from Mike's lips that it had been Randy who had deflowered him. He had missed out on the fun in New York. He had missed out on the fun at the Casa. He was not going to miss out on the fun on the boat. He had thought that he could get one, or both, of the boys to suck him off. He hadn't planned on also having to take a cock into his own mouth.
It is very difficult to ask for a new dish, take one bite, say it is delicious, and then shove it away. If you like it, you take a second bite, to see if your taste buds were really telling you the truth. Don Dawson had had three new dishes on the boat. He had received a vicarious thrill when Mike had locked his lips onto his cock. It had felt like a new form of pussy. His libido was further aroused when Randy had forced Mike's cock into his mouth. He had closed his eyes and listened to the instruction from the night before. It had opened up whole new avenues of sexual excitement. The lesser of the new thrills was the part that Randy had played. He did enjoy throughly when Randy crouched behind him and ate hungrily at his ass hole. The tongue felt stimulating and added to the inflaming of his cock. The finger had even felt partially good.
It was the final act that had been less than rewarding. It had hurt like bloody hell when Randy rammed his big dick up the unused channel. He couldn't scream, for his mouth was stuffed full. He tried to move his hips to fight him back out. The more he moved, the more Randy pushed the god damn log up his ass. Then a peace had surrounded him. His own cock was spewing forth it's juices and making his head swim in carnal release. His own mouth was being filled with a warm sticky substance that was not at all displeasing. Only then did he fully comprehend that the motion in his behind was slowing down. The slower it got, the better it felt. Before it stopped all together he was getting so he fully enjoyed the queer feeling of having something rubbed against the inner lining of his ass. He was almost regretful when Randy pulled it all the way out. There was a second of pain as it popped from the hole. Then the pain was replaced by a feeling that it was still lodged in him. This hang over was what again brought his cock to full steam. Then and only then did he have the greatest thrill of the day. Randy saw his full erection and crawled down between his legs.
When the twin brother worked his mouth over the cock, Don thought his mind was going to blow itself right out of the top of his head. He had become accustomed to the sharp little knife flecks of Mikes teeth. He had thought that this was part of the art of sucking a cock. He found hat the difference between the Mexican lad and Randy was the difference between a professional and a first timer.
Randy wrapped his cock in a maze of feathery tissue. Cotton Candy, Don thought. It's just like sticking your old dick in a big fluffy ball of cotton candy, without the stickiness clinging to your cock.
With Mike he had had to work his hips. The strong hands of Randy held his hips firmly planted to the deck. Only Randy moved, and it was only his head that had any motion. It wasn't even like having a mouth bob and weave upon you. He felt like a hot wind was pulling his flesh hither and yon. New alarm bells sounded in his mind that had before been untapped. His senses soared as the mouth literally sucked the life from him. He was so exhausted after he had come, that he could not even move his little finger.
For the first time he had fully enjoyed sex. Not just the tiny tingle as his cock jumped and jerk, as it spewed inside a cunt. This made that action seem like childs play. But, with all of the sensual pleasure, also came fear. Fear that he could get to liking this dalliance too damn much. That was why he had begged off on any further homosexual activity on the boat, and had just cautiously watched Randy take on Mike for his second go-around.
But, the bug is a hard one to get off your back. His mind had been taken up with Clara's problems upon his return. He did have great concern for her. He did love her, in his farm boy fashion. She was his wife, and he did feel deep anger toward whoever had taken such license with her.
Yet, this concern was not enough to quench the strange fires that were brewing in his groin. As he lay beside her, late Saturday night, and listened to her even breathing, his cock began that short journey to full erection. In his mind he could hear, see, feel and smell the events of the boat trip. He put his hand down between his legs. He was harder now than he had been then. He couldn't jack himself off. Not with her lying right next to him. He thought of the luscious mouth of Randy. He could visualize those pink lips parting to accept his heated frustration. He was going mad just lying in that damn bed and thinking about it. He inched toward the edge and dropped himself to the floor. His Bermuda shorts were on the chair. That was all that he put on to cover himself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Don went into the hall and around the comer. He knew which was Randy's room. He had seen him enter it earlier in the evening.
At this juncture it is only fitting that I note that when I returned from my little snooping spree I had found Don Dawson to be among the missing. It took great pains to get him to disclose his whereabouts. I never did get Randy to admit that he had had a late visit by Don.
Don quietly let himself into the room. It was dark. He could see a lone body asleep upon the bed. The half moon did not give him a clear image until his eyes had becomes accustomed to the gloom.
It was with lecherous glee that he finally noted that Randy was lying upon his belly. The smooth white ass lay in open invitation. He stepped from his Bermuda shorts and pulled on his cock to bring it back to full life. He leaned over the still form. Randy was in a deep slumber.
Don let his hands travel over each of the mounds. Randy did not stir. Don pulled the humps apart. The was a low moan from Randy and then quiet. Don climbed onto the bed, slowly moving the legs apart as he inched his way forward on his knees. He felt of the cleavage. The hair was as soft as the belly of a cat. He probbed until he found the hole. It was bone dry. He spit upon his finger and ran it around the rim. The body gave a slight jerk. He applied more spit. It barely covered a third of the area. He knew what there was only one way to fully lubricate the outer and inner area and still not fully awake his victim.
He had to grit his mental teeth to perform the task. His nostrils were filled with the sweet odor of male excretion. He almost gagged. Then he told himself, this isn't any dirtier than a pussy, and many is the time that he had licked out one of those. So again he got his mouth into position. Carefully he put out his tongue. The tiny tendrils tickled his taste buds. He pushed past the hair and lightly let the tip run around the outer rim. Randy moaned and hunched his back. Don pulled the mounds farther apart. The slit opened and the inner lip was exposed. Don put his tongue upon this sensitive area and let the saliva run freely. Again the hips came moving upward.
Don wondered what Randy's dream was like at this moment. He had a good guess. He had even a better guess when he took the tip of his tongue and let it travel past the inner lips and circle inside the adit. Randy squirmed from side to side. Don worked for a few seconds more, until he was sure that he had the area completely ready. He spit again and applied it all over his more than ready cock.
He leaned forward and guided the cock to the slit. He kept loosing sight of it as the cock got in the way. He had to back up and part the mounds with his hands again and then move his cock into place by line of sight. Damn, he wished he had more light.
Then he could feel the head coming to rest against something solid. He thought that he was off mark again. He pulled the ass farther apart, but did not pull back. He was on target. That extra little tug was all that was needed. His felt the ass lips start to close over the tip of his cock head. It made his mind giddy. It was such an erotic feeling that he couldn't wait to enjoy the taste of his cock entering a bit at a time. He arched his back and pushed. His cock shot past the narrow opening and lodged itself deep in the tunnel. The body below him heaved backward, also helping to force him further inside. He had to fall onto the hard male back and clamp his hand over the mouth, just as it started to holler.
"Quiet!" He whispered into the ear just below him.
"What in the god damn hell do you think your doing," the twin tried to say through his mouth that was covered with fingers.
"Steady, Randy, I'm doing nothing more to you, than you did to me this afternoon."
"Jolly, you stupid bastard. Take it easy! I've never been screwed in the ass before."
"Neither had I till you plugged me this afternoon."
"Well, I hope to hell your having fun, because it hurts like a bitch."
"Now you know how I felt."
"Yah! Like you had a big terd in you. You got all your meat in me?"
"I think so."
"I hope so," the twin said in agony, "I don't think I could take much more. Don't move for a few more minutes. Let it get used to it. Move a bit to the right. That's it. Now it's in straight. It doesn't hurt so damn much. What do I get out of this, if I let you fuck me." He turned his head on it's side. Don couldn't help but look deeply into the clear eyes. There was something strangely sexy about the way they gleamed. He had not noticed it this afternoon. Now, the look stirred something deep inside of him. It gave him a curious elate excitement, as if he were being teased. That this was quite new and different for his partner.
"What do you want in return?" His voice took on a sensuous tone. "Not what your doing."
"Do you want me to do to you what you made me do to Mike?" He couldn't bring himself to say the actual words.
"Do you want to do that to me?"
Don dug his hands under the two of them. It was his left that came in contact with the cock first. It was fully erect. "Yes. But, you'll have to be quick. When I finish on you I'll roll right off. Turn over fast so I can get my mouth on it before I chicken out."
"Got you. It doesn't hurt anymore." The twin pulled his ass muscles together. It sent a charge through Don. He pulled himself partially out of the encirclement and then dropped back in.
"Lay down flat on me." The twin said as he got his hips in a better position. "Don't pull your whole body off, just do it like you would normally. I think it would feel better." Don rocked himself out, with his butt and then dove back in. It was the tightest pussy that he had ever encountered. The tissues were packed so solid around his cock that each movement sent an electric charge along the penis spine.
"That's the action," the twin gasped, "push it in father. Man, this is wild. I know why they call it fucking, for that's what it feels like. Damn, that's the most expressive word in the language. Only a woman or a man who let's his ass be filled knows what they mean by fucking. God damn, is this making me hot. I can hardly wait for you to suck me off. Pound it in Harder! Give me every damn bit of your meat. Fuck, you bastard. You asked for this, now work for it. Oh! God! Oh! I wish I had your cock to suck on at the same time you were fucking me. Maybe we should call my brother in."
"Jesus Christ! Don't tell me that he plays around too?"
"More than I do."
"Oh shit! I should have know it. You're Sandy aren't you."
"That's right."
"Oh, damn. I feel like a shit heel." Don started to stop.
"Don't stop. Keep fucking me. I'm enjoying the hell out of it. But, you don't get out your promise. Your going to go down and suck me off."
"With pleasure." Don took back up his in and out rhythm.
"Give me your mouth," Sandy commanded. "I got to have something to suck on."
He took Don's mouth and clamped it close to his. He pulled Don's tongue forward with his own. He used his throat to pull the dart into his own cavity. After a few false starts he had the straight tongue as hard as a baby penis. He sucked upon it with frantic relish.
Don increased the motion of his body. He was pounding frantically into the ass. Sweat was bead-nig on his brow. He felt like Sandy was going to pull his tongue right out of it's socket. He couldn't concentrate upon this minor pain, for his whole being was centered in the feeling building in his balls. They felt like they were on fire. He could actually feel the pressure begin to build. It got so strong that he thought his whole body was coming apart. The finale was shattering. His body was torn into a million pieces. He tried to pull out of the tube, but it kept expanding and contrasting in seeking more of the same. He knew he had to turn Don over quickly or his ingrown guilt feelings would take over.
He pulled out rapidly and slammed Sandy over onto his back. He didn't even feel of the cock with his hands. He just opened his mouth and watched as it came closer and closer. It didn't have the harsh worty feeling of the Mexican. It was smooth and soft. It felt so good upon his lips. He dove deeper. He almost went out of his mind as the flesh of another human being rubben against the inner lining of his cheeks.
He had wanted Randy, but got a thrill other than normal, out of knowing that he was doing this to Sandy. He thought that maybe Sandy had never had a blow job before. This brought his arousement to even newer excitement. I'm sucking him for the first time. He tried to remember everything that he had heard Karl instruct Mike. He moved his mouth accordingly. He must have kept his teeth out of the way, for he could not feel them scrapping against the bone.
He knew he was giving pleasure, for Sandy was moving his body so rapidly that Don had a hard time keeping his mouth in place.
He could feel his jaws being forced farther apart as Sandy prepared for his climax. The throbbing head became like a mailed fist, then the fist began to open. Sandy moaned deep in his throat as he gave up his pent up emotions. Don took what was offered. He had thought that the other time had been nice. This was so sweet that he kept accepting all that was offered. Sandy tried to push him off. Don would not be taken from his quest. He opened his throat wide. He went down farther, and farther. The tube, that was beginning to slacken, moved through it's own slime. Don could feel the length darting very deeply. It aroused him anew. He swallowed. The shaft was in his throat. He pushed until there was no more to take. He lay in this position until he had no breath left. Slowly he pulled back off the form. Sandy was crying from such a strenuous release.
I must have been asleep when Don returned to his room and his honeymoon bed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My interviews did not bring me any closer to the assailant, but they did answer one mystery. The eleventh person in the bedrooms. It had to be one of the brothers, visiting Randy for a rematch. Which one, I didn't think, really didn't matter. Or did it?
I revised my yellow pad for Friday evening.
Marianna was asleep, as were her younger children. Okay!
Sandy and Luisa were visited by Randy. Okay! Later. Randy visited the brothers, Luichi and Pepe. Okay! Don Dawson got his kicks by a bit of voyeurism. Okay! Which also helps to place Karl and Mike. Okay!
So, the only two who did not partake in any extra-curricular activities were Larry Battle and Clara Dawson. Let's leave out Clara, for she was not very well able to attack herself.
Larry Battle? He had a motive, even though rather strange. He had been turned down by Clara, Luisa and to a degree by all the others. All the others?
A new inspiration cropped into my mind. Was the assault perpetrated by the same man? Was somebody trying to lead me in every widening circles. Before the Sunday attack who had known that I was a private detective. I ticked off the names in my head. Karl, Randy and Sandy. No! Larry Battle. Larry knew of my previous work for Karl Smithson.
There were now three people I was most interesting in getting further information on. I placed a collect call to my Dallas office. No sooner had the office answered than I was sure that I heard the click of a receiver being lifted on my end of the line. If there is going to be smoke, I thought, let me build a really big fire. I minced no words in letting one of my operative know what information I wanted on these people. The listener tried to match my own recradling, at the end of the conversation.
It was almost supper time. I had to work fast. I went along the hall to Karl's room and had him call in his sons. I told them exactly what I wanted done. They didn't see the reason but agreed to cooperate.
Next I went to see the Dawsons. They were somewhat back on speaking terms.
"Clara," I said, "I have just a couple of more questions for you. Where did you have breakfast on Saturday morning?"
"Why, here. In the room."
"Who delivered it?"
"One of the boys."
"Did you have any other visitors?"
"Marianna brought my sack lunch by, just before I left."
"Did you talk?"
"Are you kidding," she laughed. "I don't speak any Spanish. She rattled on and on. I finally got the drift that she was complimenting me on my swim suit. I felt rather sorry for her. She's such a big woman. I knew she was envious that I was so tiny and could wear such a suit."
"Oh, yes!" She brightened, as she remembered, "I almost forgot. Luisa came in about that time with some towels for me. She also complimented me on the suit. Then she laughed and said that if I was going to the beach I really wouldn't need a suit. She told me that many of the guests had sunned nude on the cliffs and the beach."
"They suggested that you go to the beach."
"No," she puckered her face as she thought, "it really was that disgusting Mr. Battle who had suggested it the night before. I asked them if they thought it was safe." She laughed again, "That must have been my womanly intuition. They assured me that he had gone off to town shopping."
"Now, let's come back to Sunday morning. Where did you have your breakfast?"
"I didn't. I just had some coffee here in the room?"
"From room service?"
"No. Don made me some on the little machine in the bathroom, before he went out. I wasn't feeling well, so I went back to bed, after I had had a cup, and went back to sleep."
"How do you mean, you weren't feeling well."
She colored deeply. "This is going to sound very strange to you, Mr. Carey, what with us only being married a few days, but Saturday and Sunday morning I had symptoms like morning sickness."
"Oh, Clara, are you sure?" Don exploded with excitement.
"I don't know. That's why I didn't say anything. I thought I would wait until I got back to the States and could see our doctor."
"But you haven't missed your period, have you?"
"No, that's the funny part. But, Donald Dawson, it has happened to girls before. And it's not as if we have been abstaining for these past few months."
"Clara! You shouldn't in front of...."
"That's alright, Mr. Dawson. I see all, hear all and tell nothing. Now, I think you two had better get down to dinner."
"Will you join us?" Clara asked sweetly.
"No," I smiled. "I'm going to have dinner in my room. I've got some thinking to do about what you told me, and I also have a call coming in from my office."
"In the states?" She asked surprised. "Yes."
"Oh, Don, isn't that wonderful. I didn't know you could call back and forth like that. Let's call the folks tonight and tell them we are alright. It would make me feel so much better."
"Any thing you say, little mother."
They were in each others arms as I departed.
My phone was ringing as I turned the key in my door. The click on the line didn't come until my conversation was half over. My office had dug up the information very quickly. It made me whistle. It didn't give me a motive, but did give me some interesting facts.
I had just put the phone down when there was a knock at the door. It was my dinner. Luichi, the youngest, carried the tray in on his shoulder. He cleared an area on the coffee table and laid out the fare with professional care. He seemed to be walking stiff legged.
"Did you hurt yourself?" I asked.
He hung his head. "I would rather not say."
"If it has anything to do with Randy and Friday night, I know all about that," I said sagely.
"You know, senor?"
"Si."
"But, do you also now of later?"
"What about later?"
"I won't get into big trouble if I tell you?"
"No."
"After the Don Randy leave, Luichi is still very excited. Don Randy pay much more attention to Pepe, than to Luichi. Luichi feeling very badly and I sneak to the swimming pool. We are not allowed to swim, but I feel hot and sticky and feel that if I am caught then I tell the Don Randy that if Luichi can't swim then I might tell what I know. So Luichi swims and swims. When I came out of the water I see someone sitting by the pool. It is the Senor Battle. He offer to Luichi the drink. Luichi say, sure. Drink is in the Senor Battle's room. Luichi he go into his room, from the pool side. She Senor he seems like nice man. He fix Luichi drink, then say, don't drip water on his floor. He gets a towel and he dries Luichi off. My swimming trunks were still wet, so I couldn't take a sit on the nice chairs. He tells Luichi to take off swimming suit. Luichi feels maybe he is same kind of man as Don Randy. Luichi takes off his trunks and as they come off I am thinking of the nice things that the Don Randy do to me and my brother. It makes me get a hard on. The Senor Battle he sees this and he asks if I play around. I say sure. He takes it to mean the wrong thing. He takes off his clothes and he makes me take his big thing in my hand. I don't like it and say I go. He makes me stay. He forced me to put his cock into my mouth. I think it tastes very bad. He gets angry and pushes me onto the bed and then he holds me down and he fucks me very hard in the ass. I bleed and bleed and he laughs and laughs. Luichi still very sore."
One more mark against Larry Battle. I was sure in my mind now who had attacked Clara Dawson. I was also sure that it had not been two people, as I had thought, but only one.
I tipped Luichi generously and let him see that I had started the meal before he departed.
I had lost precious time listening to his story, but it fit into the pattern. I took the good face mask and aqua lung and let myself out by the patio door.
From the shadow of a yucca plant I could look into the brightly lit dining room. Everyone was in attendance and being waited upon by the older members of Marianna's family. A peek in the kitchen window showed me the younger children eating their supper. All of the rooms were clear.
I hid the lung and went back into the Casa. A room at a time I checked carefully. In each bathroom I looked closely at the little envelopes of sugar, by the coffee machine. None had been tampered with.
It was in the last room that I hit pay dirt. The air was still musty with the smell of smoke. I tried not to disturb anything. I again hit pay dirt when I lifted the mattress. A couple dozen envelopes of sugar were laid out flat. Each, had been knifed open and resealed. I opened one and touched the sugar to my tongue. The taste was unmistakable. Cut opium. I wondered if the marijuana boys knew that they had competition.
I retrieved the lung and headed for the beach. I tried to keep the flashlight low, so that I would not be detected from the Casa. It was dangerous going down those steep cliffs at night.
I took off my clothes and put on the lung. The water was icy cold as I walked into it. I swam in the direction that I had been advised the assailant had escaped. It was impossible. Below the water, the edge of the cliff made a natural barrier. It did not stand to reason that anyone could swim out far enough to get around natures break water. I turned to the north. Again I ran into a shelf of rock.
I turned to swim back to the surface and the shore. Suddenly I was being turned and tossed. I was being pulled down by a force that I could not combat. I was dashed against the rocks. I was a fool to have come alone, into waters that I didn't know. Even with the aqua-lung I was going to be drowned.
I relaxed so that the wril-pool could drag me to it's base. There I might stand a chance of escaping. I had the strange feeling that I wasn't being pulled down, but more to the side. I was just getting used to the feeling when I sensed that there was a force trying to push be back in the opposite direction. I swam against this new force. I didn't have far to swim before I broke above the surface of the water.
Upon my legs I could feel the pressure of trying to pull me back down. I swam rapidly and with every ounce of energy towards what looked like the shore. It had become extremely dark out.
When my feel hit something solid I ran till my body was completely out of the water. I snapped on the water tight flashlight. I was in a cave. No, a cavern. A cavern under the cliffs. I looked up. The night sky seemed almost bright as it broke through the opening at the top of the cliffs.
I shone the light around. Upon the facing of the wall had been chipped out hand and foot holds. At least I wouldn't have to return the same dangerous way that I had entered.
It was going to be rough on my bare hands and feet, but no rougher than the rocks had been on my shoulders and rump.
With the light I surveyed the best manner in starting the ascent. I was just fixing to clamp the flashlight back onto the lung, when it picked up an object between the rocks at my feet.
It looked so grotesque, jutting from the rocks, that my first reaction was a jump back in alarm. Then complete elation came over me. This is more or less what I had been looking for. I could have looked all night long by the shore and never found it. Providence had pulled me into this cavern, and pure chance and luck had let the light fall upon it. Gingerly I picked it up, because it looked so life like. It even felt like the real thing.
Then I did face a problem. I had no way of carrying it to the top. The flashlight was magnetized and would clamp right onto the lung tanks. But how in the hell was I going to be able to use both hands to climb and still keep my rubber evidence. I had only one choice. I clamped it sideways between my teeth and pulled my self up the chiseled, primative, ladder.
Fortune was with me. No one saw me coming back. I sure as hell wasn't going to climb back down those cliffs for my clothes, so I ran through the night, bare-assed naked, with an aqua-lung strapped to my chaffed back and a long, round, rubber object dangling from my hand.
My room had not been disturbed. I showered quickly and donned fresh clothes. I rang the dining room and told Randy that I was ready for him to go to the next phase of our plan.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It could have been likened to the gathering of the clans. Everyone, including the small children, were seated in the lobby. Randy had provided drinks for the adults; soda for the children. I made my entrance at the last possible moment.
"I have rather an important announcement," Randy said, after he had cleared his throat twice and stood up by the fireplace. "After careful consideration and long counsel, by my brother and I, with our father, we have come to the definate conclusion that this will be the last group of guests at the Casa.
The terse report was received by stony silence. I noted the facial expressions. They ranged from stunned surprise to complete indifference. Only one face could not hide the apparent glee.
"Now, I think that Mr. Carey has some information for us."
I felt like every eye in the room had riveted upon me. It gave me such an uncomfortable feeling that I sat down in the large armchair.
"It is normally the function of a private detective to reconstruct a crime. The more liberal of you might demean in feeling that no crime has been committed. The conservative would say that any assault upon such a lovely lady, as Mrs. Dawson, would certainly be a crime.
"To reconstruct a crime takes nothing more than placing the facts one upon the other. When those facts are misconstrued by the investigator he can be led far afield. When the facts are purposely clouded over, the investigator is automatically led to believe that someone else has perpetrated the crime.
"Yes, crime. The attacks on Mrs. Dawson were nothing more than a propitious cover for the true intent of our erswhile criminal.
"The ruse was meant to confuse. There was a time that the facts were to lead me to believe that it had been Donald Dawson himself who had left the boat and travelled to the shore to have indecent license with his wife. On top of all the facts that would make this theory stick, were two overhelming points of information that screamed of his innocence. First, the inked map from the radar scope shows that the boat was quite far north in the Gulf. It would have taken him a good two and one half hours of swimming to make the round trip. The aqua-lung holds only a two hour supply of oxygen. I tested the lung on the boat before it was refilled. It still contained a twenty-two minute supply. I stopped worrying about Don Dawson.
"Next comes Larry Battle. Yes, Mr. Battle, do not look so stunned. You have been quite the star suspect. Your apparent battles with everyone. Your brutal outlook on sex. The fact that none of the shop keepers remember your having shopped with them on that Saturday morning, and the fact that although everyone left here for church on Sunday, you seem to be the only one that didn't arrive inside the sanctuary.
"Each time you were without an alibi, Mrs. Dawson was attacked. No, don't speak! I know you had an alibi, but one that you couldn't speak of at the time. You are a very careless and stupid man, Mr. Battle. If I was going to have to sneak to town to pay for my sexual pleasure, I would not leave the name of the young lady, her address, and a list of her artful accomplishments on my dresser.
"In this instance it might have, however, saved your neck. For in another room I also found that young ladies name. But, in this instance it was a note from her. Unfortunately I do not read Spanish. I do read figures and names quite well, and I think this note will prove that a good portion of the ransom that you paid to the girl found it's way right back here to the Casa and to the person who set up both little parties for you."
Larry Battle was just as human as the next person. He turned and glared at the go-between who had set him up. It was like pointing an accusing finger at the guilting party of all the screwy events of the past two days.
"But, Mr. Battle it was not only your absence that led me to believe that you were the raper. The rubber suit led right back to you. The sand in the cuffs of one of your pants. Too, too, many elements were pointing directly at you In fact too many facts to really make it seem believable.
"Why? I kept asking myself. You didn't seem to have any apparent motive, unless you were just plain pucho. But, you are not. Your last mental and physical tests, to be a commercial pilot, in the State of Texas, were conducted just three days before you came on this trip. Your are as sound as a dollar. Your only problem is that you are a wee bit oversexed, but, then again, so are millions of people, and unless they are really off the beam they don't go around trying to drown people to get their kicks, or spreading them like a sandwich with jam.
"I might add, at this point, that I also had Don Dawson checked out. That was a waste of time. Congratulations, Mr. Dawson. You don't even seem to have a traffic ticket on your record.
"So, that narrowed my field of suspects to one. One other person left here for church, but never attended the services!"
I purposely sat back and lit a cigarette. The heavy smoke felt good going into my lungs. I had all the time in the world. It was fun to sit and play cat and mouse. But, the cat wasn't quite making the mouse nervous. The mouse sat with casual indifference.
"Would you like for me to serve coffee?" Marianna asked, in Spanish, of Randy.
"Would you all like coffee?" Randy asked in English. There were general nods of approval, as they didn't quite know what else to do. I had left them all hanging in mid-air. They all seemed afraid to look at each other. Afraid that the lest raise of an eyebrow might give others the intention that they were guilty.
After Marianna departed, the younger children following in her wake, only the Dawsons and Larry Battle looked comfortable.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Take a roomful of guiltless people, announce that you know one of them is guilty of a crime, and wham! In nothing flat you have a roomful of guilty people. Convicted by their own past thoughts. I have generally found that when a person looks guilty, then they are innocent. It is only the really guilty mind that is so callous that it can mask it's feelings behind a blank wall of indifference.
"Luisa," Randy said at long last, "see what is keeping Marianna so long with the coffee."
"I don't think that is quite necessary," I said through a puff of smoke. "She isn't preparing the coffee."
Luisa reared back in the chair, as if I had slapped her. A little cry, almost a moan, came from her lips. Her eyes gazed into mine. She knew in that instance that I knew the whole tale. As though hypnotized she rose and walked to the window.
"The children!" she screamed.
Before any of us could join her at the window, we could hear the motor of the station wagon crank over. We were like a pack of animals all trying to get to the same opening before the flood overtook us.
Only the twins had presence of mind to race for the front door. They were off the porch and after the vehicle before Marianna had had a chance to change gears. One of the twins caught his arm in through the open front window and fought to get the steering column from her grasp. The three little Mexican tykes sat screaming on the back seat.
Somehow she was able to get the car through the stone gates and out onto the dirt road. The twin tried vainly to get the door jarred open. His feet kept bouncing off the road. Only sheer will-power and strength kept him attached to the side of the accelerating wagon.
The other twin dashed vainly behind the fleeing group. Twice her almost was able to grasp the open tailgate. Each attempt was twarted by Marianna nervously jerking her foot farther down on the accelerator.
"Stop her," Pepe yelled, to no one in particular, "she doesn't know how to drive."
His statement was really not needed. The careening manner that the wagon shot back and forth on the road was not solely due to the twin trying to get ahold of the wheel.
From far off we could hear both of the boys voices pleading with the woman to stop the car.
Her own vicious tongue was a mixture of colorful English and Spanish expletives.
She pulled the wheel hard to the right and then to the left. The twin could not reach in far enough to get the circle away from her and still keep his own grasp. The rocking motion almost dislodged him.
The car jostled off the graded road and jumped over the rutted field. With suicidal calm she headed the vehicle for a scraggly pinon pine.
"Jump," the twin commanded of the three children. Fear of times breeds strength. From some where in their small minds they crawled to the open end of the wagon.
Marianna braked the car to a bone jarring halt. The suddeness sent the twin flying from his precarious perch. The children scrambled from the car and dashed for the Casa.
"My bambinos," Luisa hysterically screamed and raced toward them.
The car had spun in a half circle. Marianna was frantic to make her escape. The tree stood in her way of a forward dash to safety. She plunged the gear dial to R and pushed her foot to the floor board. The wheels spun in the loose sandy loam, then caught; and caught hard.
The twin was just bringing his knocked head back to sensibility, and trying to rise on rubbery legs, when the sharp tail gate ate into his stomach. The death roar could be heard vividly by each of us. It was over shadowed by the piercing noise that came from the throats of Clara and the outside yell of Luisa. Karl Smithson slumped to the floor.
The other twin was half way across the field. He stopped momentarily, dead in his tracks. Then like an avenging spirit he literally flew across the parched turf.
Marianna also knew what she had wrought. The car practically jack knifed as she meshed the gears back to the drive position.
The car swerved back and forth trying to dislodge the body caught on the under carriage. Her head kept darting back to see if she had been successful.
Again the brakes screamed for their life. The car came to rest a few feet from the edge of the cliff. She rammed the gear shift back to the reverse position. It would not stay, she had stripped the gears between first and reverse. She forced the arm to stay on the indicated R. The other twin was less than a hundred yards away. She pushed her foot all the way down on the accelerator.
The automatic transmission had never left the drive position. The sleek long car jumped into space. Hung suspended. Then did a crazy somersault out of view.
It was the wee hours of the morning before the mangled bodies were brought up from the beach. The beach that had started, and now ended the problem. Well, now, that is not quite correct. It was really only the first and last segments of the final chapter. The local police agreed with my theory and did not hold the children responsible for the actions of the mother. Although, they did look askance at the poppy and marijuana fields. Before morning they had all been put to the torch.
"What was your theory?" Don Dawson asked, as we sat in the kitchen over our umpteenth cup of coffee. No one had been able to sleep, so we suffered together. Also we had a new problem. The surviving twin was unable, due to shock, to tell us which twin he actually was. Luisa was nursing him like a would be Florence Nightingale; and Mike sat by the bed of the still unconscious and mourning Karl Smithson.
The whole affair had so rattled the quiet Mr. Duly and Mr. Mason that we had allowed them to pack their bags in the middle of the night and start their drive back for San Diego.
"My theory meant nothing, until your wife gave me my biggest clue."
"Me," Clara seemed surprised, and yet pleased.
"Yes, your morning sickness. My dear, I have suffered morning sickness with my wife on three pregnancies. If it were true morning sickness you wouldn't have wanted to go to the beach. You had been given a drug. It was in the sugar. It wouldn't harm you. Just make you good and groggy under the sun, so that when you were attacked you would be in a sort of dream world and things would not seem quite what they really were.
"Then I remembered your description of the penis. The only man that that would really fit was you Larry," he blushed, "and I already had checked out your story with the prostitute. So, I went on a little hunting expedition of my own and found this."
I took from my jacket pocket the dildo, with the French tickler."
"But, that's just a shriveled piece of rubber," Clara exclaimed.
"Now, yes. Watch. Remember you said that he played with himself to get a hard on?" I began stroking the rubber phallus. A hissing noise came into the room. The artificial penis took on uncommon proportions, until it was standing quite erect. In the base were tiny canisters of helium. They were activated by the warmth of the hand and the friction it created by rubbing the rubber back and forth over the escape valve.
"Hey," Don Dawson kidded, "If you don't need that thing anymore I might just take it home with me. If it gave my wife such a thrill, it might come in handy."
"Like hell, you say," Clara glared at him. "I don't want to see that foul thing again. You've got enough for me, for the rest of my life."
It gave us all a good laugh. A laugh that we really needed to break down the tension. I didn't show the second one I had found. The one that still was coated with dried jam.
"But," chimed in Larry Battle, "I still don't get it. Why did Marianna do all those things to Clara?"
"It was the motive part that was throwing me also, until I called Dallas. It's rather strange, but then most mixed up minds are. Luisa and the older boys are no more Marianna's children, as are the little ones. Luisa is the daughter of Marianna's first husband, but by another marriage, as is the case with the two boys. The three small ones are Luisa's children. All born out of wedlock. And all born at a time when Luisa was pretty far gone on heroin. That was the hold that Marianna held over Luisa. If Luisa would have talked, Marianna threatened to tell all and have the children taken away from her. The girl gave up everything for those kids.
"The boys, Pepe and Luichi, did what they were told to do. Grow the poppies and marijuana and also to go to bed with Randy and one of them with you, Larry." This time Larry turned a deep scarlet.
"If her plan didn't work, then she at least had a barrel full of blackmail material."
"But, that still isn't answering the question."
"Oh, but it is. Your just not looking deep enough. Marianna wanted a business, but a respectable business to hide her real operation.
"You see all three of her husbands are now serving time for dope smuggling. She didn't want to end up the same way. In her mind the best then was not to smuggle the grass and uncut opium into the States, but to grow it and let others take it in.
"This was a perfect set up. Gringos come to the Casa as guests, buy at good prices, what she and the boys have grown, and stand all the risks. But with Randy finding out about the grass it was a little too dangerous. So, she had to scare the boys off. What better way than to make them think their place was jinxed. She had closed up a place in the states with a murder, just out of spite. It was never proven?
"She knew of the sexual activity that had gone on during the season, and here is an important clue, she was not included in any of it. It was probably highly frustrating. During this time she was also being turned down by Luisa, whom she had been able to bed down with when ever she wanted to once again because of what she held over the girls head.
"An assault on a woman would be the worst thing that could happen, but it had to be a man who did the attacking. She set you up as the patsy, Mrs. Dawson.
"It was a sick mind that had to devise such a brutal way for you to be sexually taken and also murdered."
"Murdered!" Clara's fist came to her mouth.
"Naturally. You don't think the twins would have sold just because of a couple of sex attempts. It is rather ironic that it was her own step-sons that fouled up her attempt each time."
"Each time?" Don Dawson looked alarmed.
"Yes. Both times. The first time they arrived at the edge of the cliff. Marianna had told them to guard the fields that day. Then went to the cliff, to sit behind some rocks and puff on a couple of joints. They saw the attack and didn't know that it was Marianna doing the attacking. They were too high to aim properly.
"The fact that Pepe was high again on Saturday night also saved you. When he was sent to the rooms to change the sugar, he put the packet that was meant for Clara in Larry's room and visa-versa."
"Why my room?" Larry asked.
"If she got you high then she could talk to you and start to make you believe that you had been the one who had gone after Clara. You fouled her up by going back into town, and by not having any coffee before you left. There was enough high grade opium in the packet for Clara that she would he quite dead by the time you all were back from church to find her misused body."
"All for a Casa," Don shook his head.
"Casa nothing. Look at this, after just a few months operation." I flipped open the bank book that we had found in her room. Both men whistled.
"A quarter of a million. Wow! Maybe I'm in the wrong business," Don said excitedly.
"You're better off," I explained, "in taking money from Uncle Sam for not planting, than trying to plant this type of crop and running the risks."
"What happens to this money?" Clara asked in typical womanly fashion.
"The Mexican government is that much richer. I don't think the kids will fight for it. They're all good kids. I think they will get along well enough by just staying here and working for the Casa."
"Will it stay open?"
"I'm sure it will." But I really wasn't sure. I might have been if I had known what was transpiring in the bedroom while we talked.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The twin had come out of his drugged stupor. Luisa had quietly told him that his brother was dead, and that it was her step-mother who had murdered him. She also told him of the whole plot, " ... and that's the whole story, "she concluded. "I shall pack up the children and be out of here as soon as possible." She started to cry.
"Hey, Luisa, no tears. Sure it's been a blow to all of us, but let's not look backwards. I lived the first part of my life without my brother, I can live the last part. Come here." She sat on the edge of the bed and he pulled her over on to him. Their lips met hungrily.
"Oh, Sandy. It's you."
"Of course it me! Who did you expect, Randy?"
"We didn't know. Oh, God! We didn't know." A new wave of tears flooded from her. She nestled her head in the curve of his chest.
"There! There!" He patted her head. "Stop your worrying, chiquita pepita, no-harm will come. You're going to stay right on here, as are Pepe and Luichi and the other little bambinos. We might even make them legal by giving them a surname."
"I don't want you to marry me out of pity."
"Pity, hell. I like the way you screw." He ran his hand up under her dress, until he could feel the mound of hair. He pulled her onto the bed and rolled his body over on top of her. Their bodies met in a mutual congress of lips and thighs. It did not take him long to get fully primed and to find the proper entrance for his elongated cock. He worked so rapidly that it was a short lived intercourse. He rolled off of her and smiled.
"You know, I'm hungry as hell. How about me seeing if you know how to whip up some chow."
"That is the first thing you will have to do, Sandy Smithson, is hire a cook. I burn toast and my eggs taste like they had feathers in them." She got off the bed and smoothed down her full skirt. "But," she smiled warmly, "this morning I think I could do it up right."
She almost collided with Karl Smithson as she went out the door.
"Dad," the golden haired boy exclaimed, "do you think you should be out of bed."
"I feel alright now. Can we talk a minute?"
"Sure. Come on in."
Karl closed the door behind him and came right over to the bed and sat down on the side of it.
"I guess the shock was a little too much for me. Has she told you the full story?"
"Yes. But, I can't blame her or the kids."
"Of course not! That's not what I meant. She had a strangle hold on all of them. I got some of the story from Mike and Phill Carey just filled me in on all the official details. It's really a shame. I thought you boys had a going thing for yourselves. We shouldn't have too much trouble in selling it."
"I'm not going to sell, Dad." It was a firm statement.
"Not sell? But, that is preposterous. I want you to come back to New York with me. You are Randy, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm Randy, Dad. You didn't think otherwise did you?"
"I didn't know. I was out when you came back in and then the doctor told me that he had given you a shot because you were incoherent and didn't know who you were. I was almost afraid to come through that door." He laid his hand on the boys hard thigh.
"I know it was rough on you, Dad."
"It will be rougher on your mother. She loved that boy."
"Then why do we need to tell her? Does it matter which one of us we bury?"
The older man looked at him like he had lost his mind.
"You must be joking."
"Not at all. Sandy told me that she has cancer. She can't last more than a year or two more. Why hasten it along? I'll have her down for a week, while you're away. Let her think that Randy died."
"You would do that for her, after all that she has done to you?"
"Damn it, Dad. Let's bury that stupid past. It's cost Sandy his life, in a way."
"Alright! Handle it your way, if you think you think you can pull it off. But, I can't help but keep from saying that I am glad that it is you that is still alive."
"Didn't you like Sandy?"
"Sure I liked him. But, with you and me it is different. We're chips off the same block." He moved his hand right up to the boy's groin. He found the cock to be firm and hard. "That's what we like. I wish you would come back to New York with me. I get so lonesome for you."
"You've got a closet full of little playmates. I would be just one of the stable again. No, I don't think so, Dad. I wouldn't know what to do wish myself in New York. Here I've got the Casa. It's something that Sandy and I built. In a way I can keep Sandy alive by staying here and keeping it running like we always dreamed. We've had a good first season. Next year will be even better. Luisa and the kids will stay on and I'm sure that Mike will also."
Karl Smithson stopped his gropping for a second. He hung his head.
"I'm afraid that you've already lost Mike, Randy. I've offered him a job in New York and he's accepted."
The twin reared back his head and roared. "Here your trying to get me to come back to New York and you've already started your stable. You're too much, Dad! You just couldn't keep your hands off that lovely Mexican cock could you?"
"Are you jealous."
"That has been either your greatest fault or your greates asset. I really don't know which one. Don't even learn to be jealous, Randy. It is the real cancer in life. I'm glad that neither of you boys gained that quality from your mother. I sometimes think that if she had been more modern and not so damn jealous we probably would have stuck it out."
"Even with your strange tastes?"
"In spite of them. Well, I guess your mind is made up to stay in Mexico. After this little visit I think they should change the name to Sexico." He looked lovingly down at his son.
"Will you come back to New York with me for the funeral?"
"I don't think so, Dad. I would rather remember him as he was. It might not be too wise. We might really shake up his New York friends that don't know about me. No, I think I'll just stay right here at the Casa."
"As you wish." He paused for a long moment. "Does your hardness indicate that I might have one for the road?"
"You know that that is yours any time that you want it."
Karl Smithson threw back the sheet cover and pulled apart the pajama flaps. He rested his head upon the flat belly. The boy could feel the true emotions of the man seeping through his cheek and to the pit of his stomach. The father was truely grateful that it was his favorite son that was still alive.
The lips took up the adoration rite. Kissing the downy fur on the lower abdomen. He raised the hard cock erect with his hand and let his feeling be known upon the smooth head.
As he slipped the stiffness into his mouth, the boy reached forward and rubbed Karl's own hard member through the cloth. Each knew that this was as far as it would go, but it was far enough to excite Karl. He bore down upon the shaft until his mouth completely engulfed it. The boy knew what was next expected of him. Something that Mike would learn in the next few weeks. To fully arouse the man you had to talk to him. To tell him how good he really was. To show verbally how much pleasure he was giving you as his mouth travelled up and down the sexual tool.
"Oh, that's great. Suck deeper. Wild! Really wild! Tongue the head again. Suck it! I love it when you suck me off. It's wrong from my own father to suck on my cock, but that's what make me so damn hot. Aren't you glad that you have a son that likes to have his cock sucked?"
There would be no verbal answers to these questions. They would only receive a reply in the manner that the gulping mouth would work harder to bring about even greater excitement and pleasure. The questions and strange manner of answering would go on until each of the bodies would jerk and quiver with the explosions that would release the tensions of pressure built up in their over sexed bodies.
A father would return to New York to bury a son that was not dead, content in the knowledge that his true heir still lived. A mother would live out her final days thinking that her son was still alive and his twin brother that she had not seen since a child was being laid to rest in a plot of Empire state soil.
A son would continue to reside in his Casa of sex, knowing he was a double heir.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Karl Smithson came out of the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. The clan was still gathered. Clara was helping Luisa prepare breakfast for the whole gang.
"Well," Don Dawson said, "it's good to see you up and around, sir."
"Thank you, my boy."
"Coffee, sir?"
"Yes. I guess I could use a cup." For the first time Karl Smithson took a close look at Don Dawson. He liked what he saw. A real man. "They tell me that you have gone into the pharmacy business, Mr. Dawson."
"Call me Don."
"Fine, Don. Most people call me Karl, instead of sir."
Don laughed. "Alright, Karl. My in-laws have a pharmacy. I tried medicine, but it didn't turn out to be my cup of tea. We also have a farm, but with all the totalitarian government restrictions it's cheaper to leave it lying fallow."
Karl took the offered cup of coffee and sat down on the side of the table at which Don sat. The table cloth covered the fact that their legs met. Don did not pull his thigh away.
"Know much about management?" Karl asked.
"In the drug store business, yes."
"I've been thinking about buying the Horner chain in the mid-west." He moved his hand, under the table, over on to Don's thigh. There was no resistance.
"Boy, that's a great chain. They could make a hell of a lot more money than they do, if they would just modernize a bit."
"Yes, I've thought the same thing." The hand slipped up to the cleavage.
"Are you married to the family business?"
"No. I want to get out and get my own store someday."
"What about a chain?" The thumb reached out and came to rest on the cock. It was growing steadily-
"I'd never have that kind of money, Karl."
"But, I do have. And I'm going to buy that chain. I might just be looking for a young tiger, whose not afraid of life, to take it over and run it for me." He put his whole hand on the erect cock. He squeez-ed it playfully. Don gave him a big grin of encouragement.
"Are you interested in what I am doing?" Don caught the double meaning. No one else who had been listening to the business conversation would realize that the last sentence was directed at the under the table operation.
"I could get very interested. If your that interested in me."
"The whole thing has a good feel to it. I could make it feel a lot better."
"I'm sure that you could. You must realize that I'm rather green. I've only had one store. I might have to be taught what to do if I went into a bigger operation."
"The prospect excites me," Karl said as he looked deep into the handsome face and clear eyes. Don reached under the table and got himself a handful of cock.
"Yes, I can see how it would excite you." He had only had the bouts on the boat and in Sandy's room. He had considered them just to be larks. Something that a man would do once or twice and then put in the back of his mind. But, this was far different. This was business. This was a way out of the little farm town. If his body was that attractive to this man, then he was going to use it to it's fullest to start on the ladder of success.
"Here's your breakfast, guys," Clara sang out cheerfully, as she put the plates down in front of them. She had been listening to the whole exchange. She had only read the business part of the conversation and she was elated. It also meant an escape for her.
"Well then," Karl beamed, "let's eat our breakfast, and then you and I, young man, will retire to my room to draw up a contract of mutual intention. Don let his cock jump again into the hand before it was drawn away to eat.
"Thank you for helping me, Clara," Luisa smiled. "I will just run this plate of food into Sandy."
"Don't you mean Randy?" Karl Smithson said before he could catch himself.
Everyone stopped eating in mid-air.
"No, Sandy," she said, confused.
"Well, which is it?" I exploded.
"Randy!" Karl sighed, knowing the cat was out of the bag.
"Oh, no!" Luisa cried. "I know it is Sandy. I would know, wouldn't I?"
"And don't you think I would know my own sons?"
"But, I tell you I know it is Sandy."
"Did I hear my name called?"
They all spun and stared. He stood in the kitchen door in his pajamas.
"Sandy," Luisa ran to his arms, "tell them it's you."
"Of course it's me."
"But," Karl blustered, "you told me that you were Randy." He wasn't sure himself now. Only Randy had ever called him Dad. But, Sandy could do the same thing, although he had always called him Karl or Mr. Smithson. And he couldn't be sure on the sex bit either, for he had had Sandy since being here.
"This is ridiculous." I rose and walked to the youth. "Which are you?"
"Who knows, Mr. Carey? Who really knows. Does it really matter? To make my mother happy, then Randy is dead. To make my father happy, then Sandy is dead. To each person who wants the other, I shall be the other."
"But why?" I asked dumb-founded. "Oh, now just a minute." I caught myself before he could answer. "It's not that simple. No two people, even identical twins have the same set of fingerprints."
A wide grin broke out on the boys face. "We were never fingerprinted, Mr. Carey."
"Then I don't get it. I just don't get it."
"The best of two worlds, Mr. Carey. I can enjoy the best of two worlds." He winked at his blank-faced father, and patted the rump of the girl who stood by his side.
Only one person fully realized what he meant. In the mind of that person was a growing envy. Sandy Randy Smithson would be able to live openly in each of his two worls. Don Dawson was going to live secretly in one of his.
