Action

Rongo parked and we ran to the elevator. I'm not a small man, around six feet tall, but he was six foot four and in such need, it woke up a five-bell alarm in me.

When you come close to death, you crave sweet. You sometimes confuse it with craving sugar. Some cops choose donuts. Some choose sex. This is why so many cops cheat. You need the honey…you need to grab great handfuls of life…you need a reminder that there is no shortage of love in the world.

He pressed into me as soon as we got into the elevator. Somebody got in behind us. "Take the next one," he yelled and I glimpsed an elderly couple looking shocked as two men grappled with each other in that glossy silver box. We rose high and fast as Rongo pinned me against the wall. His hand went straight to my cock as he rubbed against me.

"I need this," he whispered against my mouth. His mouth roamed my face and throat. "This is a building ASIO has apartments in, somebody could be watching," he suddenly said. "Maybe we should wait until we get into the apartment."

He dragged me by the waistband as soon as the elevator pinged toward his apartment. We went one way, then the next.

"I'm so hot for you, I forget which room I'm in." he fumbled the keycard and I took over. It clicked unlocked, flashing a green light. On the other side of the door, we wrestled one another's clothes off.

He propped me on the sofa, licking me from my feet, up my thighs and to my ass. He opened my legs wider, pressing soft, wet kisses and licks on my ass as my feet hovered in the air. He pushed me to the side, mounting me as he knelt between my legs.

"I gotta take you," he said as my hands gripped his hard, muscular ass. I loved the color of his skin against mine. I loved the need of him against mine. He pushed his cock into me, the head hard and unyielding. My knees were pushed tightly to my chest. I wanted him bad and he knew it.

"Sweet Lord, Honeybone. Your ass is God-lovin' tight."

He fucked me deeply, hard and fast. Neither of us lasted long and I clung to him, my hands on his ass cheeks as we pulsed, coming together in a sensuous rhythm.

In spite of the time apart and all the hurt, we hadn't lost a step. 

I flashed my membership card. The twink on the front desk smiled at me. He was a sweet little cocksucker who reminded me a lot of my favorite gay porn star, Leo Giamani, but I wanted to scope the locker and steam rooms.

There were a few loiterers in both, nothing worth investigating. I was starting to think my urge for a hot fuck after the biggest haul in my personal memory was going to be a bust.

And then, I saw him.

Man, he was hot. He had a body that appealed to my sense of aesthetics. His skin tone was the color of milky coffee, his hair dark. Nice cock, thick, big, half-hard. He was running his hands through his hair, about to turn off the shower taps when he saw me.

We traded glances and he gave me a half-smile.

I held up a finger and his smile widened a fraction. I quickly dumped my stuff in a locker, grabbed a lambskin condom and joined him in the shower.

His gaze fell on my cock, which was big, hard and ready to play.

Fuck, he mouthed and turned around. His face was beautiful, his ass even sweeter. Hands splayed against the wall, water ran down his back and I heard him moan as I tore the package open with my teeth and rolled that rubber over the length of my shaft. I stroked it down, smoothing out the ridges and ran my hands over his ass. His skin was warm. My thumbs reached into his ass crack. Nice and tight.

My fingers ran over his hole and he squirmed against them. Shit, he was ready. I inched my cock toward his ass and felt the heat before I was even close. I sliced into him and felt his hole resist, then embrace me. I fucked him slowly at first and he pushed into my hips. I gripped him with both hands, but I didn't need to worry. His muscular legs were planted firmly on the floor and he wanted to be fucked.

I kept one hand on his ass, moving the other around his belly, reaching between his thighs to stroke him off. I like the feeling of a guy coming when I am. I love the way their ass muscles bear down on my cock. Hell, if he's bringing me heaven, I should save a slice for him.

We fucked like we'd been doing it forever. He anticipated every move I made. And yet…and yet it was new and exciting. The thrill of being caught kept me hard until I felt his come spurt over my fingers and splash the wall. My cock was caught in his grip and I shot inside him, my mouth moving to his neck. I wanted to bite him, don't ask me why. I never want to kiss the guys I fuck, but this one seemed surprised, then turned his face and his tongue ran right across my lips and I thought I would never stop coming. 

I smelled lemon furniture polish and…some sort of tropical smell…I glanced around. He'd slathered on underarm deodorant before he walked out for his morning coffee. Moving behind me to close the door, I caught his appraising glance and knew several things about him. He was not organically gay. He, too, was horny, and had figured out it was easier to get laid by a gay guy. Ah geez, why did I always attract the straight guys?

He caught my gaze and looked away quickly. I knew so much in that small moment. When I saw the unbearable neatness of his small room with no view of the ocean I felt his despair, and knew I should leave. I'd just been hit by Kaolin, the human Mack truck. I still had tire marks running down my heart. What the hell was I doing here?

There was a perfectly made bed tucked in the corner. A single bed for a single man. There was a TV on a dining chair, small kitchenette, a dining table with the remaining chair and a big wing chair off to the side.

We stared at each other for a moment. I had to make the first move. I stepped toward him and I felt his hesitation until my mouth went to his. Though he was resistant at first to the kiss, he accepted my tongue. He let me kiss him and soon he was responding with eagerness. We were both surprised. I knew how hot this was, how good this felt and how good we both tasted.

He held my face in his hands. They were strong hands, fingertips rough, and I ached to feel them on my cock and balls. I took my mouth away from his and his tongue was still protruding when I moved away from his face. He was glassy eyed as I lifted the T-shirt to find what I knew would be there. Perfectly chiseled abs, a sprinkling of hair on the upper torso. My hands moved over him as he took the T-shirt himself and whipped it over his head. His nipples stared at me invitingly and I gave them passing attention with my tongue. I was too eager for the main course.

"Take your boots off," I instructed and he tried kicking them off as I unbuttoned the top of his jeans. I saw the Calvin Klein waistband of his underpants and then I lost total control. I slid down the zipper and cupped his perfect, tight ass in my hands as I held him to me. I found his mouth waiting for me. I wanted to spoil him, make him want more. I wanted him to crave men, to crave me, and I shucked down his jeans and underpants, savoring that raging erection just before I released that surprisingly thick, long cock. He was uncut.

I fell in love on the spot. Kneeling before him, I took his cock straight into my mouth and sucked as I frantically undid the ten million laces on those boots. He sighed with abandon as he kicked off the boots and shucked off his pants. His mouth fell into a happy O, and I glanced up to see that he was watching me enjoy my unexpected morning feast. I sucked him the way Kaolin loved me to suck him. I swallowed him, pulled back and all the way off him, plunging back down again. His cock bounced, eager to be back in my mouth each time I came off him. He was making little sounds…he did not want to beg me for it. He was too proud for that. He just made little primal noises, an instinct in all men for that safe, sexual burial in a hot, warm mouth.

Sucking his cock was as much a pleasure for me as it was for him. I took my mouth off him and told him to get on the table.

"What?" the animal wariness was back now.

"Get up there," I barked and he obeyed me. He got up on the table, his cock still hard and I grabbed his feet, still encased in his socks. "Lie back."

At around midnight, the light in the room came on. He was there again, this time with a different man. They wasted no time getting down and dirty. Clothes were on the floor and so were they, cutting off his view. When they finally did come into view, they rolled together on the bed at the far end of the room. With both his arms over his head and his legs spread, the other man tied his wrists to the rungs in the headboard. A few seconds later, he was coating his body with something shiny and then licking it off his skin. He rubbed it into his nipples, his belly, his cock. His Mark’s hips bucked upward. The man straddled his hips and took his cock up inside of his ass.

Giovanni wiped the sweat off his forehead. He watched a gay porno once, but damn, this made that movie look like Disneyland. Giovanni undid his pants, moved his hand down to his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. This brought a moan as he watched the man move up and down on the cock he’d captured with his ass.

Giovanni pressed his back against the wall, lowering the binoculars. He stroked his cock frantically, coming in seconds, his head banging against the wall. “Um…yeah…oh God,” he murmured. The gun lay discarded on the bed.

He slept again. When he opened his eyes, he walked back over to the window. The Mark was lying in the same position, sleeping, his wrists still attached. The blond lay sleeping beside him, a hand possessively coveting his Mark’s muscular thigh. Damn. He had a beautiful body, his skin the colour of honey gold and shining with whatever it was that other guy had rubbed into it. He picked up his gun. Do it now. They’re both sleeping. Hit them both and get out. He aimed the Glock, first at his Mark, then at the other guy. So much power and they were completely unaware. His gun stayed on the blond. Get rid of him and go over there to that room and…and what, run your hands all over his beautiful body, kiss those sensuous lips, use that cock of his? No, he couldn’t do that. He could never give into these wicked urges he got every once in awhile and he certainly couldn’t… He groaned slightly, his cock hard again. Damn. He needed a shower. After a shower, he’d be more clearheaded and he’d figure out what to do. He’d already been here four days. This should have been over by now. His father was probably wondering what in hell was taking him so long.

He spent over twenty minutes in the shower, soaping himself, masturbating, trying not to think about what he had to do once he came out. The water soothed him somehow, made him forget.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and stood looking in the mirror. He brushed his damp hair, brushed his teeth and ran a hand over the slight stubble on his jaw. He didn’t feel like shaving. Maybe he’d grow a beard. He walked out of the bathroom and then froze as a deep, male voice said, “I was wondering when you were going to come out of there.”

Joe shifted his hips so Cliona didn’t know how hard his cock was as they sat snuggled on her couch. The TV was on, but hell if he could tell what was even on. All he could focus on was her and how good it felt to hold her soft body in his arms. It was also pure torture.

She was half-on his lap, half-off and her cheek was resting on his arm. The soft curves of her body seemed to scream touch me and, before he could stop himself, he was stroking the soft rise of her hip, the dip of her waist before stopping just below her ribcage.

“Are you going to miss me?” she asked with a soft sigh.

“I already do.”

“Until you find some pretty female angel that you can be with. The you’ll forget all about me.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Joe closed his eyes against the pain churning in his gut. “You’re the only one that I could ever love. There will never be another for me.”

“Does it make me a horrible person that I like hearing that?” She sighed, the movement making his fingers come dangerously close to her breasts.

“No, I feel the same way. If I were to ever see another guy touch you, I’d probably rip his head off.” Deciding to move his hand to safer ground, he started to make absent circles on her back.

“Your family is going to hate me. They’ll know why you left.” She let out a sharp gasp when he rubbed the area between her shoulder blades.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked alarmed, even though the way her eyes rolled back in her head wasn’t the move someone in pain would usually make.

“No, it’s just that the spot where my wings comes out is really, really sensitive.” Cliona moaned and arched back against his touch.

“So it feels good?” So much for moving to safer ground.

“Mmm…” She closed her eyes and got the satisfied look of a kitten with cream. “It feels fantastic.”

Although Joe didn’t have the skills that Bear and Cam did when it came to reading others minds, he did have some capabilities. Right now, they were telling him that Cliona was aroused. Hell, she was more than aroused, she was about to come off the couch.

The smart thing would have been to pull back his hand. The smarter thing would have been to get up and leave. The smartest thing would have been to never come back. Instead, he inched his hand under her shirt so he could touch her creamy flesh.

“I always knew your skin would feel this soft,” he whispered as he caressed her sweet spot. She arched back even further, her hips hitting his cock. This time he didn’t pull back, wanting her to feel how she was affecting him. The feeling of her rounded ass grinding against his erection almost drove him over the edge. Control. That was the key. He just needed to stay in control.

“Come to bed with me,” she beseeched in a husky voice.

Well, hell, there went any hope of control.

“We’ll just play a bit,” she continued when he didn’t immediately respond. “I promise.”

Reminded once again of how sweet her lips had been, he wondered how the rest of her tight body would taste. He licked his lips as he imagined sucking the tips of her perky breasts until she was moaning before he moved down to lap up the syrup from her pussy. Direct order or not, he would be a fool to turn this down.

Slightly on edge, Zoe hurried from the office to the company parking lot to fetch her car. Once again, it was later than she had planned. Just as she had wanted to shut down her PC, her staff manager had called her. That talk had been unpleasant--somebody trod on his toes during the day and she was the outlet for his steam. If she hadn't been the agency's token Eastie from Philadelphia and alibi woman, he surely would have fired her already.

Privately she wished painful hemorrhoids on him while she refreshed her caffeine-enhanced lip-gloss. She felt guilty because she had promised Rick she wouldn't be late again.

Several times other drivers honked at her while she wove swiftly and recklessly through the already fading evening traffic. She didn't care. This time the evening should turn out better than the last when she was two hours late because she had to procure new photo paper after this brainiac from the artwork department idled that task away during his midday tour. And that evening those three thousand Tabaluga flyers had to go into print.

In front of Rick's door, a parking space had just become available. Hastily she maneuvered her Mini into the gap. A last look into the mirror--fine. She opened another two buttons of her blouse as the stern office look was not to Rick's taste and because she wasn't just flat as a pancake, she could depend on that to titillate him.

Shit. She'd almost landed in the pit, which was gaping in the sidewalk--the municipal services had been in a hurry to knock off work. Well, she could understand that.

In the corridor of the old five-story building, she stopped once again. Today she would go the whole hog so she quickly removed her slip from under the new, trendy black Kate-Moss-look miniskirt, which she had bought last Saturday for this opportunity. For a moment, she pondered where she could leave it, then dropped it into Rick's mailbox with a whimsical smile.

On the stairs to the upper floor, she had to restrain herself. She didn't want to be out of breath--at least not yet. Impatiently she covered the last steps, key in hand. Silently she opened the apartment door. She smiled as she heard the light music from the kitchen. To the left, in the dining room, everything was prepared--candles, bowls, chopsticks--so he would be cooking Asian style. One look to the right--oh, rose petals on the pillow! Yes, Rick knew how to create a romantic atmosphere. The corners of her lips slightly lifted.

There was a loud bang and then Rick's horrified, painful cry sounded from the kitchen. She ran across and jerked the kitchen door open. A cloud of steam gushed toward her. Rick lay on the floor with a blood-covered chest and a dark-red face, rice grains stuck everywhere--to cupboards, ceiling and floor. She leaned down to Rick and lifted his head--perhaps the wonderful curves in her neckline would help to clear his fogged senses--and cried out, "What happened? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Should I…"

His index finger covered her mouth. "The pot exploded. I meant to change the pressure cooker's valve seal ring long ago--must have been jammed." He looked down his body and plucked a small metal piece from a bleeding wound in his chest. "Mmm. This must have been the bolt to the handle."

He flipped the bolt away as she hugged him, glad that nothing too serious had happened to him. She didn't care that her blouse was soaking up his blood--but she noticed very well how his trousers became too tight for him. With swift fingers, she opened his fly and seated herself on him. A pity about the dinner, but this would become a wonderful evening!

Still totally inebriated by the adrenaline rush of the exploding pot spectacular, their first intercourse was short and intense. Rick just let it happen, but Zoe took control, her sensual perception sharpened by the preceding shock--and resulting fear for his life. When he responded with passionate strength, the sex was better than she had ever experienced.

She'd had lovers before, had been with tender and patient partners as well as indifferent mechanics. She'd had short and intense relationships up to the three-minute balcony fuck--which hadn't been too bad, had wasted painfully long, affectionate evenings with a half impotent Italian-American, but nothing could have prepared her for this moment.

And Rick was insatiable. While she still waited for her heartbeat to slow, his hands slid up her side, found the beginning of her breasts, wandered toward her buttons. Methodically, he opened her blouse, pushed the blood-spattered fabric away, let his fingers tenderly circle her round, firm breasts. Then suddenly he grabbed her waist, pushed her above himself. She tensed, spread out her arms, enjoyed the feeling of hovering above him.

They made love to each other a second time, short but intense, on the groaning, protesting kitchen table. Afterward, she wrapped her legs around his hips, let herself be carried around the kitchen table in waltz time while his tongue played with her nipples. Finally he settled her to the floor, ran his hand across her short black hair.

She admired his toned body as he faced her from the kitchen door and she sprawled herself, purring, on the rice-covered kitchen floor. Her gaze wandered up his trouser legs to his still open fly, followed his chest's muscular curves, where suddenly two red flowers blossomed.

As if in slow motion Zoe watched how Rick's knees gave in, how his breaking gaze ran across her body for the very last time, how his voiceless cry fought to protest, how the stream of his life pulsated from his chest, how his light went out forever.

Patiently Zoe leaned to the corner of some shop and watched the waves of tourists--some searching for an interesting view, and others going for a group photo with a background--and not for the first time mused how lucky they were not to know which cruel fate they had been spared.

Then, right on time with the first whistle of the old steam clock Johnny appeared, with noticeably darker stubble than he had at lunchtime, but with the same beaming face as when he first saw her.

She caught him by surprise again with a hug and a quick kiss. The poor guy blushed. Then she led him to the next pub.

They exchanged small talk until the latte macchiato was placed in front of them and the waitress disappeared. Then she took his right hand and looked into his eyes. "You are a nice guy," she offered. "So I better tell you now. I'm not going for a long-term relationship."

His reaction in turn surprised her. He nodded, kissed her hand, and replied, "I know. I can see you haven't reached the end of your journey. I don't care."

She tried to answer--he put one finger to her lips. "No. Don't say it now. You are shining into my life like a ray of the sun, and I'm bathing in your light as long as it holds me. I'll enjoy every second and enshrine it in my heart like a precious treasure, to remember it during the dark hours. And when you have to go I won't grieve but rejoice in the present you gave me."

 

Now she stood in front of the mirrored wall of her hotel room and studied the picture of their nude bodies through half-closed eyelids and noticed briefly that even the microfiber bra that Johnny just had stripped from her left pressure marks. She enjoyed the feel of his warm breath that bathed her right ear and the nape of her neck, while his promisingly erected member targeted upward along her right hip, lightly pulsating in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

His hands caressed her short, black hair, casually stroked her earlobes, and followed the curve of her neck to her shoulders, then moved forward. From there they wandered across the outer side of her breasts, their lower sides, slid down her breastbone to her navel, and parted again before they reached the little black bush in her lap. They tenderly dawdled from her waist to her hips. Their movement hesitated as his left hand reached the clearly noticeable indentation of her bullet wound, then continued on under her buttocks, rejoined in the center and slid up her spine.

Her right hand gently closed around his firm shaft, tenderly moved along it to the tip, caressed his shining head. A wonderful feeling, she mused. Time for the unromantic necessity, gently she applied the condom, unrolled it, fondling his hairy balls.

He pulled back his hip slightly, pulled from her grip, pushed her arms outside and over her head. With hands aloft, her already firm breast was outlined even more. She trembled as his fingertips almost unnoticeably circled the sensitive skin of her bust, sneakily passed her areola, avoiding her expectantly tense nipples, teasing her again and again--damn! It felt so crazily good that she didn't want to let him stop, although at the same time she longed for the feel of his dick inside her, sensed how her clit cried for attention, imagined how the wetness trickled out between her labia, determined to soak her loins. No no!

Not to be delayed, she slowly turned to the balcony door, pulling him after her at his caressing hands as she swam toward the door with infinite deliberation, tore it open wide, letting in the refreshing evening air which caused a fine goose flesh and again made her more receptive for his caressing moves. Oh, she felt as if something should explode very soon--abruptly she tore her upper body from his grip, reached forward with her arms, grasped the balcony handrail, extended her back to him with gently spread legs in an unmistakable invitation, yes, please, do it! wordlessly crying, demanding, while his hands began to fondle her buttocks--no, more!--a short touch of his lance in her crotch, but much too elusive, already passed, there, again! she pushed her pelvis further to him, hoping, begging, pleading--"Aaaaooh!" with a loud, animal, lustful scream that echoed far through the city streets she--finally!--received his long, hard pulsating cock deep inside her, voraciously enclosed by her damp cavern, massaged by her tensed muscles, caressed by the rhythmical shake of her pelvis, oh yes!

"Oh!" Uninhibited she let those unseen in the night take part of her lust. Mindlessly, she cried out her rapture, answered every push of his pelvis with a little, peaky shriek, completely devoted, voluntarily captured with him in a tiny universe of ecstasy, pushing, rushing, circling, moaning, screaming--moremoremoreharderdeeperfirmeryees!

She sensed the climax approaching, felt herself reaching her inner barrier appreciated, hugged, opened, fluid and fire in her veins, foxfire eruptions dancing through and around her, flashes, EXPLOSION! A scream like from a thousand throats, thrown back by walls with their highlighted windows, dark silhouettes of stunned witnesses, released her tension, took the desired relief with it, and yet…

Boiling blood, adrenaline and endorphin in a whirling choreography, muscles spasmically twitching with the signals of electrified nerves, self control in free fall, for fractions of a second Zoe was committed to her body's reactions until her mind took in the reins, little prickling discharges tingled here and there in her body, tender echoes of the previous orgasm that was so infinitely, salaciously amplified by the flow of her special power which she now quickly contained, while she let her spine relax and loosened the grip of her vaginal muscles, allowed him to retract out of her. Slowly she straightened up, presented her sweaty wet breasts to the city night, turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him toward her, just held on, sensed how his slowly shrinking, wet member stroke along her pelvis, enjoyed how he hugged and held her, breathing heavily, exhausted, weary.

"Incredible!" was his first word.

"Yes!" she replied beaming and pushed him back into the room, toward the waiting bed. The night was still young!

More! More! More! She fantasized, as Billy Idol's Rebel yell invaded her thoughts.

More!

She took one of the black leather harnesses and held it before her, frowning. “What’s the long part in the middle?”
“It goes around the manhood.”
Mrs. Smith lifted her gaze toward her chosen man, a mocking glance in her eyes. “You mean, you get strapped into this thing and this part holds your jewels?”
Michael wondered for how long he could pretend this conversation to be normal. The urge to burst into laughter got stronger by the minute. “Indeed, that’s what it’s designed for.”
“Designed!” She gave back the harness, laughing herself silly.
He closed the drawer and opened the last. It was low enough for her to look into it without Michael’s help. He knelt beside her.
She pointed at a curved piece of metal with two blunt endings. “And this is?”
“A nose hook.”
“A what?”
“A nose hook. You put it in like this—” He demonstrated it. “So that the sub can’t lift his head.”
She picked another one, larger than the first. “And this is for someone with just one nostril?”
Michael did not know what Mrs. Smith would do if he rolled on the floor laughing. He decided to answer the question. “No, that’s another kind of hook. It belongs more to the backside.”
“I get the idea.” Her hand flew up. “No demonstration necessary.” She put it back as if it had bitten. A gesture included the contents of the sideboard. “Is there a reason, I mean, a background for all of this?”
“The goal is satisfaction. For both players.” He made up his mind before his self-restraint went to the gonads. “I’m sorry to ask, but you chose this scenario. Is it—”
“I’m always curious to learn new things.” She smiled as if it explained everything. “So, tell me all about it. This here. And what is possible. Or not.”
Michael shrugged and kept his ideas to himself. “It’s possible to use all of these items on me if you wish.”
“You enjoy being bound?”
He wanted to hear surprised eagerness and tried to find out by a glance. “For some time, yes. I’m not into a lifestyle of being submissive 24/7. I know, it is very satisfying for some people to give up their free will and just live to serve another being. I accept that as a culture of its own.” He watched her lovely face. Her eyes were big as saucers, her lips slightly parted. He wanted to be touched by her and inspire her with his body to go further. Her hands were small, but looked as if she had strength in them. The afternoon was looking up.
“A culture? Is that true?”
He nodded. He had spent hours researching this sexual subculture a year ago when he had had a girlfriend with special interests. With every article he had read about shackles, harnesses and collars, he had gotten more interested. He could not wait for someone to use these devices on him. How it would feel to be bound. Unfortunately, Mrs. Smith was far from that. She wanted to learn firsthand, which was—in Michael’s eyes and to his libido—a waste of time.
“It is true that there are more people every year who openly admit that they enjoy being bound.”
“And hurt?”
“That, too.”
“Is it truly so…arousing to live through pain?”
Michael wet his lips. Talking about this way of lovemaking was arousing in itself. He took a deep breath. “I could show you, Mrs. Smith, but you might not feel satisfaction if you’re not into this kind of game.”
Now her smile reminded him of a schoolgirl, who was always taken to be shy and suddenly jumped out of a party cake in the altogether. “Like I said, I’m always curious to learn new things. Take off your clothes. Right now.”
He searched her eyes to see if she was serious. She nodded once so he got up. “What about you doing it? I promise, I won’t struggle.”
She was quick on her feet and with glee in her eyes, pushed him across the foot end of the bed, laughing at his surprised expression. “Gotcha!”
Her whole face lit up. He loved her instantly. “Don’t be rash!” He gripped her shoulders to turn and straddle her. “And now?”
“Now I enjoy the view.” She opened the buttons of his dress shirt and leisurely pulled it over his shoulders.
He helped with the cuff links and dropped the dress shirt behind him.
“No undershirt? That’s risky. You could catch a cold.”
He laughed. “I’ll handle that.”
“But you won’t handle me.” She pretended a hook and pushed him to the side.
He rolled with her. “Beware, she’s a fighter!”
“Right.” Mrs. Smith straddled him across his chest, facing his legs. She undid belt, button and zipper to get Michael out of the pants. That way he got an excellent view of her snug derriere. “Black boxers.” She lifted her butt to look at him between her legs. “Do your boxers always fit the color of your pants?”
He nodded, pretending seriousness. “House rule.”
She giggled. “Off with them!”
Michael couldn’t grasp his luck. She was a player! “As you wish.”
“I knew you’d say that.” She turned around, dropping the boxers on the floor. “And now I’ll use all of the stuff in the sideboard!”
“Don’t forget to check the cupboard.”
“For the larger devices?”
“For the larger devices.”
She cocked her head. “You are really into this, aren’t you?”
“I was honest with you.” He outstretched his arms to lie spread-eagled on the cream-colored covers. “You can do what you want with me.”
Mrs. Smith cocked her head, brows raised. “Guess, that’s an invitation girls don’t get every time.”

Suddenly, a back section of the structure exploded and the beams began to give way around them, creaking and groaning from the strain of the floors weight above, shafts of flaming wood, concrete and steel rumbled, and came falling down in a kaleidoscope of confusion. Reeve didn't remember much after that except when he came too, he'd been flattened by the tremendous final blow of the ammunition stores. He stared at Slade who was laughing his bag off. He had a decent sense of humour, but whatever the cadet leader found so damned amusing with nearly getting killed, eluded him.

The swordsman groaned, holding his ribs and rolled over shifting toward Reeve. "That was close, eh?"

Dumbfounded Reeve sighed. His ears were ringing. "Yeah. Too close."

Slade laughed then winked at him. "Don't you just love it when in the heat of the battle, the adrenaline starts pumping and your dick gets so hard you'd fuck anything?"

The comment was far from amusing and the timing questionable. Reeve went multiple shades of yellow. "Bastard!" He now realized Slade had purposely let him sit there, sweating when he knew all along there was an escape route. "You're sick, blade boy—really friggin' sick! I nearly shit my pants! That's not funny at all!" He remembered he'd said the same thing once when they were battling a holographic bear in the training fields outside the Zone and almost bit the dust then.

The swordsman quickly rolled Reeve over onto his back. Then forced himself on top the large man, smothering him with kisses. "How about I bang you for awhile, cowboy? My dick is rock hard." Slade squeezed his crotch. "What about yours?"

Reeve clawed at his jeans, he couldn't get them off fast enough. "Yeah, do me, Slade—I can't wait!"

"Ferric, I want you to stay close to him and Grandma for a few minutes," Francois said.

"Why?"

"I'm taking Mingo to the men's room for a little…talk."

Ferric grinned. "Dad, I'm so sorry I asked."

I felt the increase of pressure from Francois on my arm as Ferric joined the others on the dance floor. He steered me to the men's room and into one of the elegant stalls. Heck, the men's rooms here were nicer than most of our house back in Oahu.

"Do you know how much I want you?" I asked Francois as he slammed me up against the wall of the stall.

Passion flared in his eyes.

"Show me."

It was hard to move with my entire body jammed against the wall, but I started with some tongue dancing, kissing him in earnest. He responded to my kisses, his tongue all over mine. I clung to him, feeling safer than I had since I'd gotten out of our bed that morning. He always made me feel safe. I got a flash of the gunman's weapon in my face and blocked the image. With my body immobile, my hands were free to roam under my lover's Aloha shirt. His skin was warm and soft. I stroked his nipples and I felt his breath catching in his throat as he kissed me.

I undid his shirt buttons and he released me long enough to let me undo the fly of his new black wedding pants. He wore the black boxer briefs I'd picked out for him that morning. His massive cock jutted to the right, straining the fabric. I grinned. The word Mingo was stitched in red across the piss flap. I liked knowing that raging cock was all mine.

Pushing the underpants down, I bent, greeting his cock with my lips. He stood, legs splayed, arms against the wall, as I frisked his cock, crouched between his pooled pants. Somebody came into the stall beside us and took an extra-long piss. We tried not to make any noise, but I'm not the quietest cocksucker in the world and this was the cock I loved. I slurped on my man with gusto. The guy next door paused.

"Jesus Christ," he said and shuffled out of the stall.

"I think that was Mele's father," Francois said, making me laugh around his cock.

"Get up, Mingo."

He helped me to my feet, my mouth slick with his juices.

"I want you to come in my mouth," I said.

He opened his mouth in protest, but my lips closed around his right nipple and his went back in pleasure.

I went back to work on his cock. Its head was spongy, sweet, the shaft rigid and yet, satiny. I could have sucked him all day, but the moment I sneaked my hand between his balls, letting the pads of my fingertips massage his ball sac, he started to hump my head.

"Oh, Mingo, Mingo, Mingo!"

He shot down my throat like a cannon. I kept him in my mouth, pleased to have brought him such joy. I released him, smiling up at him.

And to think that until he met me, Francois had been a toilet-sex virgin.

"You are too much," he said, pulling me into his arms. He glued his mouth to mine and his hands worked fast to release my cock from my pants. He stroked me and kissed me, his mouth at my throat. He bent to suck me as somebody else came into the bathroom.

"Christ, they're still at it."

The transfer in Livorno, in an old truck garage with disintegrating finery, partially broken windows and torn-out installations, iridescent oil pools and a ten-year-old calendar with a scantily clad girl on the wall between spare parts where they had met at dawn, had run smoothly and professionally. Jerome had been delighted by Zoe's special offer that she had presented in the end, especially when he had moved his Geiger meter across the empty payload bay and had heard the increasing humming--the fading remnants of a recently removed nuclear warhead. Then he had waved Zoe to the side of the garage to hand her the money suitcase, while his staff had begun to load their own truck.

She already knew how much money he had withdrawn and could estimate from the suitcase's weight that he brought about that amount. Nevertheless she had to play the game by the rules, so she opened the suitcase locks while she watched Jerome and his new bodyguard--a stringy, black-clad Asian with a poker face and a Japanese sword on his back, looking like a Ninja, in the heart of Italy, not exactly inconspicuous. Where had Jerome picked that one up?

Zoe didn't care, even if she wore no obvious weapons. In exchange for the slinky tank top today she wore a black body and a white blazer with her black jeans and trainers, and therefore she had left the crate-hauling completely to Jerome's team.

Something was wrong. Jerome appeared tense and insecure, impatient? He was sweating, Zoe smelled fear. His Ninja was energized all the time anyway. Then Jerome said straight to her face, "You are a stoolie!"

She threw a quick glance at the suitcase in her hand, and her features froze. It only contained newspaper.

* * * *

When her hidden cameras recorded the slender features of Zoe's present and transmitted them, April drew a hard breath. A cruise missile? How could have Zoe got her hands on that? April had known that Zoe had brought a surprise, but hadn't insisted on premature revelation. "Don't spoil the fun," Zoe had said. Oh yes. And we're carrying a nuclear weapon platform worth a half million dollars, black market price accordingly higher, around in the country of an ally to play cats and mice with a few terrorists.

The Geiger meter event only made things worse. April was just glad that the warhead wasn't included, but after all Zoe had promised by no means ever to deliver real nukes to their customers.

Hopefully the rest of their mission would run as well as their procurement in Genoa. That April took the back seat this time for one followed from their roles in Frankfurt, moreover they both agreed that Jerome was dangerous. "Like a hand grenade with a broken pin," Zoe had illustrated, "you don't know if and when it will go off." Unlike Don Pasquale, who lead a regional business, Jerome had no obligations to keep, could change his area of business any time. And he had no need to cater for traditional honor among thieves. His only reason not to cheat was the hope to continue business, eventually the missing information about Zoe's means would emerge. With a larger entourage they could have built a credible threat of force, but they both still hoped to foster uncertainty by the obvious lack of bodyguards bristling with arms.

April felt concerned by the Ninja's presence. What's this long knife here for?

Outside of Zoe's field of vision, shielded by the trucks, April detected a new pattern of movements. No more pushing crates, what was going on? She intensely studied her screen, enlarged the respective window.

Zoe had said that Jerome had no reason to try a trick before the main delivery, but of course that wasn't guaranteed.

Then her camera screens went dark.

* * * *


Zoe looked up shocked, her thoughts racing. Stoolie? How did he find out, did they make a mistake? Had their cover been blown, had someone recognized them? She had carefully scanned Jerome's data, he didn't have any information regarding Zoe or April, but perhaps one of his staff did? Beads of perspiration on his forehead, accelerated heartbeat, faster breath, narrowed pupils--he didn't appear entirely convinced himself. Could she turn the situation? They needed more from him, access to his masterminds, before all a hint what was really going on. Who would start a religious war and tear the world into a nuclear winter? Until now their mission had run silently, and it should stay that way. Her new boss wouldn't like it if they served him a clearly visible botch right away. Only, if Jerome asked for a fiasco, he'd get it. Would it have to happen?

His staff was still loading the truck? Yes, the sounds of heavy crates set down hadn't muted yet, only become less frequent? Hasty steps in the back, silent but not silent enough for Zoe, the rub of fabric on fabric, the clacking sound of safety switches, snapping of supposedly sneakily operated locks. That really didn't sound good!

Only Zoe's improved hearing could detect the hushed chafing of the clean Japanese sword in the stiff black sheath. As she was about to turn around to the Ninja guy who had almost noiselessly moved behind her back, the sharp edge of the Katana already approached her neck.

"What are you up to?" Lucky asked me as we got into the backseat. I poured him a glass of champagne. I'd be sorry to leave London. I could get used to being driven around. Lucky kept his feet on my lap and sipped. I leaned into him and kissed him.

"I did some research on Hyde Park," I told him.

Reymundo eyed us through the rearview mirror.

"Oh, you did?" Lucky asked as I removed his shoes and socks.

"Yes, it was established as a hunting ground for British royalty about nine hundred years ago."

He grinned. "You don't say."

"I do say." I massaged his feet and ankles. His eyelids grew heavy and I pulled him onto my lap, rubbing his cock through his pants. The car jerked and I glanced up to catch Reymundo's eye in the rearview mirror.

He kept going.

And so did I.

"They hunted animals," I said to Lucky. "We're here hunting for something quite different. Can you guess what?"

"Um…cock?"

"Very good, babe." I unzipped his pants but left them again to work on his feet. Lucky squirmed in my lap. He was already horny. I loved it.

"We're here, sir."

"Find a nice place to park, Reymundo."

"What are you up to?" Lucky whispered.

"Being bad."

Lucky stared at me. I kissed him, putting my hand inside his zipper.

Reymundo parked under a tree by a pond.

"Very nice," I said. "Now come and join us."

He gawped. "Join you?"

"Yes."

"Back there?"

"Well you can hardly suck Lucius' cock from the front seat, Reymundo."

They both gasped.

"Babe," Lucky said. I silenced him with a kiss. Reymundo opened the back door and climbed in. I watched his eager gaze fall on Lucky's crotch.

"Help me undress him."

Reymundo's hands shook a little, his pink tongue protruding between his lips as he focused on his task. I took the champagne glass out of Lucky's hand and swallowed the contents. He lay sprawled on the backseat, his ass on my lap.

He was naked from the waist down, his lovely thick cock erect and inches from Reymundo's face.

"Suck him for me, Reymundo."

Lucky let out a cry as Reymundo swallowed him. It was an erotic sight. Reymundo seemed to crave cock. I wondered how long it had been since he'd had one. His mouth worked up and down my man's shaft. I poured more champagne into the glass. As Reymundo pulled up on Lucky's cock, I tipped the glass over Lucky's cock and balls.

"I'm not supposed to drink on the job, but I'll make an exception."

His face disappeared between Lucky's ass cheeks. I held his legs apart and watched Reymundo lick his balls and hole. I poured more champagne over them and Reymundo lapped at Lucky. I put the bottle back into its bucket and reached my free hand down to Lucky's balls gripping them one at a time, between my middle and forefingers. His balls felt full and heavy.

Lucky moaned. Reymundo licked the meat between my fingers and Lucky started to hump against us both.

"He wants to come," I told Reymundo who immediately put his mouth back on Lucky. My lover's feet flew to the black man's shoulders. He came, rocking against Reymundo's mouth.

I don’t know how it happened, how we got by the lobby attendants, but the next thing I knew we were in my condo. A strange music entered my brain. Drums, bells, some type of high-pitched violin, a bass—definitely a bass. The room was filled with a pulsating beat. The music seemed to enhance my senses while at the same time dulling them. My skin felt hot. I was weightless, starting to float, and then I was standing in the middle of the living room, swaying to the music, and Ray was sitting on the couch, talking to me.

“Do you see them?” he asked.

“Who?”

“The men and women. Where do you think you are?”

“I…I’m in my living room.”

“No,” Ray hissed. “You’re on stage, and they’re all here to see you. Look around. Look to your left. There’s a couple kissing. His hand is between her legs. Her hand is fondling his cock. Look. You can see them.”

I looked to my left and there they were. I could barely make them out, but it was a couple, kissing and fondling each other.

“Everyone wants to see your tits, Mandy. You can hear them whispering your name—Mandy, Mandy.”

I turned my head to the left and to the right and I could hear the voices, whispering my name.

“Take it off,” Ray said. “Take it off and throw it aside.”

I reached behind my neck, untied the top of my bikini, lifted it off, and just let it drop.

“Uh oh,” Ray said. “A man is on the stage. He’s not supposed to be there, but he wants to feel your tits. You want him to feel your tits. Tell him. Tell him what to do.”

“Put…”—the room started to spin—“…put your hands on my tits,” I whispered.

“No,” Ray said. “Tell him what to do.”

“Squeeze my tits,” I said. “Squeeze my nipples.”

I felt him. I knew it was Ray, but it seemed like a stranger. He was pawing me and squeezing me and sending shock waves through me. I put my arms in the air and around my neck and just let him fondle me.

“He wants to suck on your tits,” Ray whispered. “You want him to suck on your tits. Tell him.”

“Suck on my tits,” I whispered.

“Talk dirty,” Ray commanded.

“Suck on my fucking tits,” I shouted.

“Drink this,” Ray said. “I have one more in the fridge if we need them, but I don’t think we will. Drink this and let it spill on your tits. Ask the man to lick it off.”

I lifted the bottle to my lips. Cold liquid ran down my body, over my breasts and down between my legs.

“Bad girl,” Ray said. “You spilled it on your bathing suit. Take it off.”

I tried, but I could barely move. Ray helped me, pulling my suit down my legs, lifting my feet, and tossing it aside.

“Bend over,” he commanded. “Bend over and show everyone your pussy.”

I did what he commanded me to do. I bent over and wrapped my hands around my knees, spreading my legs.

“Uh oh, Mandy. Another man is coming. He’s going to lick the liquid from your pussy. You want him to do that. Tell him. Tell him that you want his tongue on you.”

“Lick…lick my pussy. Lick it clean. Lick the juice out of me.”

“Your ass hole has liquid on it, Mandy. Tell him.”

“Lick my ass hole,” I shouted. I began to feel lightheaded from bending over so long. I could feel myself swaying, trying to stand up.

“Mandy,” Ray said. “I got liquid on my cock. Get on your knees and lick it off.”

I obeyed. He shoved his cock into my mouth, grabbed my head and moved it back and forth. I sucked and sucked and sucked. All of a sudden he was behind me, and then he was in me. I was trying to stay on all fours as he pounded into me.

“Oh, god,” I cried. “Oh, God—Oh, God—Oh, God!”

A disembodied voice came from nowhere. “Mandy,” it whispered.

“What?”

“You love Ray. Tell him.”

“I…” I knew I didn’t love him, but I felt compelled to tell him.

“Tell him,” the voice said.

“I…I love you, Ray.”

“Yes,” the voice said. “You want to help him. Tell him.”

“I want to help you, Ray,” I said. He kept pounding into me, slapping against me, squeezing my tits.

The room fell quiet. I felt myself floating toward the bedroom. Someone was holding my hand and leading me to the bed. Someone pushed me face down on the bed and lifted me up from the waist and put a pillow under me.

“Ray’s going to fuck you in the ass,” the voice said. “There will be no pain—only pleasure. You will like it and want more. Tell Ray—tell him you want him to fuck you in the ass.”

I didn’t! I didn’t trust him! He didn’t care for me! I wanted Ned! But I was compelled to answer. I had no choice.

“I want you to fuck me in the ass,” I said.

“Louder,” the voice said.

“I want you to fuck me in the ass,” I cried.

“Louder!” the voice shouted.

“I want you to fuck me in the ass!” I screamed.

“Yes,” the voice hissed.

I felt him at the entrance to my bowels. I felt him press up against me. I felt him shove into me in one fast motion.

“Oh, God,” I screamed.

“It feels good,” the voice said.

“Yes,” I screamed. “Yes!”

“Tell Ray you want to marry him,” the voice said.

“But…but…”

“Tell him!” the voice screamed.

“I want to marry you, Ray!”

He was in me, pushing hard and deep.

“Oh, YES!” I screamed.

I began to leave my body and become a field of energy. I saw red, white and blue stars dancing in front of my face.

“Tell him again!”

“I want to marry you!” I screamed.

“I coming,” the voice shouted.

I saw the first of the voice’s ejaculations shoot in front of my eyes, a white streak that ended in an explosion like fireworks. My body disappeared altogether and I was nothing but colored stars, dancing around the room.

“Oh, fuck!” the voice shouted.

I saw the second ejaculation and my head exploded!

I turned into pure energy and watched his jism soar across the room and explode into a burst of white light. My own orgasm appeared in front of me, emanating from the middle of my body and racing up my bowels, through my stomach and out my mouth, appearing as an explosion or red lightning.

The voice or Ray or whatever pressed deep into me and groaned as the last ejaculation spread across the entirety of my field of vision, punctuated by sporadic white lights spraying out of my mouth.

I could barely breathe. I could barely move. I felt the presence pull out of me and a hot liquid spread all over me.

And I heard the voice saying something about God.

“God,” it said. “I love mumble fucking mumble.”

I didn’t care. I was paralyzed and slowly returning to a human form. Pleasure continued to pulse with me until, slowly, the room turned black.

Reeve's lips curled into a disappointed frown. "Yep, nothing." He gestured with a large hand. "What kind of person needs six cans of whipping cream? That's just weird. We should get the hell out of this dump and grab some lunch, before I pass out from lack of nourishment, sweet cheeks."

"Agreed." Slade grimly eyed him. "Frig man, I'm not a girl!" When Reeve laughed, the commander caught the fridge door before it closed. He had an idea and swiped a tin of the whipping cream. "I know what this is for." He started to shake the tin.

The cowboy's chuckling abruptly ended and he cautiously backed away from his lover, that tin and the evil smirk on Slade's face. "Hey now--wait just a bloody minute, blade boy! I know what you're thinking, but we're here to look at the house not christen it…"

Slade wickedly laughed and shaking the can of whipping cream, pressed a finger to the serrated tip and the semisweet white spray hit Reeve's face.

The cowboy ducked and dove at him, pinning his body to the dining room table in the adjoining room. The tables wooden legs let off a high-pitched screech, scraping the tiled floor.

Slade struggled with him to keep control of the tin, then he swore as Reeve shot the sticky foam under his shirt.

Reeve chuckled while mashing it into the material with a flat hand. It was cold and Slade cuffed him. His chest and stomach were coated. "You bastard…shit!" Reeve howled holding his gut. Slade looked like a kitten with two balls of whipping cream on either side of his head and foam on his nose.

Slade grumbled, then smirked, lifting his shirt up. "Oh man, Reeve, I'm totally stuck here!" The large man grinned and yanked each of his boots off. The commander blinked staring at him. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He gripped the waist of his jeans, cursing as Reeve persisted on pulling them off his body. "This isn't the time or place, cowboy!"

Having never spent much time in Paris, I had no idea how long the walk was to the Eiffel Tower but it had become our obsession to climb it and kiss each other at the top. Other people bared their breasts and mooned the tourists and did other dumb stuff, but plenty of lovers, just like us, kissed under the lights shining down on the city.

"Baby, I'd love a glass of wine," Jean-Luc said. The streets were packed and it buoyed us. It was like Mardi Gras in the middle of the night. We found a small wine bar and it was slammed.

"One glass. I want to share it with you," Jean-Luc said against my mouth. "What would you like?"

"You choose."

His French was perfect and I never got tired of hearing him talk. I stayed close to him, our hard cocks gently rubbing against one another as he caught the bartender's attention.

"They have anisette," Jean-Luc said to me. I nodded and her ordered two, shouting over the heads of other people clustered around the bar. I wanted to pay but my hands were a little busy in my lover's unzipped fly. I'd never done anything so outrageous in public and Jean-Luc's raised brow showed me that he was surprised. Another part of him, one of my favorite parts, showed me it liked the whole idea.

"Fuck," he said. "We're parents. We can't do this."

"Sure we can. There's gotta be a restroom, right?"

He stared at me a moment. "Dean, you always manage to thrill me."

We pushed our way through the throng, Jean-Luc's arms holding up our drinks, my hands busy on his body. We worked our way to the dark, red-tinted corridor. A lot of people seemed to have the same idea. We found a dark spot and I pushed him against the wall, dropping to my haunches to take his hard shaft into my mouth. He sipped the aperitif in his hand. His other hand nudged me. I moved my mouth and he poured a little of the drink onto his cock. I went berserk. People brushed against us, but I didn't care. I had to slurp up the licorice-tasting liqueur before it burned my baby's tender skin. He moaned, but I could tell it felt good. I worked him with my lips and tongue, loving the taste of Jean-Luc competing with the spirit. I inhaled, the strong scent of the aperitif giving me an extra high. I felt him starting to come in my mouth and I sucked him all the way in, my nose buried in his beautiful crotch when he came.

"Oh, Dean." He slumped against the wall. I finally released him and straightened. I kissed him.

"You like the taste of you and the anisette on my tongue?" I asked when he finally stopped sucking it.

"Uh-huh."

"Let's go home. I want to fuck you."

That night, Jake came by around eight. I can't say why exactly, but I was really happy to see him. I'd been on edge since Frederick had told me his news, thinking about how I was going to avoid spending the rest of my life on some island somewhere.

"We leave for Philadelphia tomorrow," Jake told me. "Can you be ready?"

"Of course he can," Frederick said in my place. "When will you be back?"

"Could be the same day, but it depends when the contact gets in touch. Sometimes I have to wait a day or two."

"I want to know what hotel you'll be staying at if you have to stay over for the night," Frederick said.

"I'll call you when we get in," I offered.

"So, let's have a drink," Frederick said to Jake. "You're welcome to stay here, get an early start in the morning."

"Yes," I piped in because Frederick was staring at me, expecting me to help him out. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Jake shook his head. "I'll be here early in the morning. He looked at me. "Seven o'clock."

"I asked you to stay," Frederick said. His voice sounded tense.

"I'm sorry, Frederick, I can't stay. I have to go." Jake was already headed to the door.

"You do realise," Frederick boomed from where he sat on the sofa, "that you have just insulted me."

I held my breath.

Jake paused.

"My bodyguards are outside," Frederick stood. "You're not going anywhere unless I say."

Jake turned. He actually smiled. "Let's not get nasty, Frederick. If I want to leave, I'm leaving."

I looked at Frederick. I didn't want to see Jake hurt. "Please," I said, smiling nervously, "let's not create bad blood so early in the--"

"Shut up," Frederick snapped. He fixed Jake with his gaze. "I let you fuck David. The least you could do is share a little of that with me."

"It's not going to happen," Jake replied tersely. "Now, I'll say goodnight." He opened the door.

"Boys," Frederick called out. "My guest is leaving way too soon."

"Please, Frederick, don't," I begged.

Frederick glared at me. "You're just a little too overprotective, I think." He shoved me away.

Andy and Horace were blocking Jake's path.

"Please get out of my way," Jake asked politely.

"You're not going anywhere," Andy told him.

What happened at that moment occurred too fast for me to follow, even though I saw it all in person and then on the camera.

Andy went flying. So did Horace. They tried to attack Jake again and suddenly Horace was unconscious. Andy was on his knees, with his arm twisted around his back. "I'll break his arm," Jake called out, looking into the camera. "Call them off, Frederick."

Jake was referring to the others who stood outside the gate with their guns poised.

"Put down your weapons, boys," Frederick said at the door, looking at Jake. "It seems your talents extend beyond the bedroom. Very impressive."

Jake glanced sharply at me.

I never told Frederick anything about Jake's performance the night we'd had sex.

"Make them kick their guns away and get back into the vehicle," Jake demanded.

"Do what he says, boys." Frederick sighed.

When the others were back in the vehicle, Jake released Andy and shoved him toward the door. "Go to your master, lap dog."

I watched him walk away. I didn't let out a breath until he was in his car and had driven away.

Finally he rose and led me from the country house to a modern, H-shaped building. The center wing was paned with large windows on two sides and only hosted a large, low table made of pale wood. Chairs were not available. Across the garden entrance which we had used one could see a little patch of forest.

“I am highly pleased to meet a so attractive connoisseur of our culture,” he introduced the business part in fluent, almost accent-free English. Connoisseur? My knowledge was patchy at best. But I knew a few significant rituals, and not only those concerning martial arts.

“The pleasure is on my side. I was relieved to find such an admirable opportunity to contemplate after the inconveniences of the last days. For this I have gladly changed my plans for the afternoon.”

Smack. He winced like he was hit and faced me directly.

“You’ve got something that is mine.”

“Then I will gladly give it to you. What is it?” There weren’t many options, but I wouldn’t make it too easy for him.

He reached his hand toward the camera which I still carried over my shoulder, and I willingly handed him the device.

“I am highly pleased to have found the right owner so quickly,” I lied. “When I found this object, four persons of dubious origin and manners tried to get it into their possession by questionable methods. It appeared advisable to me to take it into my custody until clarification of the ownership, more so as the mentioned subjects seemed not to be able to apply proper protection to this preciosity.”

Swallow that. Outside I remained cool.

“How praiseworthy.” He continued to examine me. “As it appears, one of these subjects wasn’t even able to watch his pants. Yet I deem it remarkable that you could find it interesting.”

“My wardrobe required urgent amendment. Unluckily it remained impossible so far to replace these tasteless, at best practical pieces. An important business appointment had cropped up.”

He paused. “Well. Otherwise you would surely have tried earlier to make your find available to the lawful owner?”

“According to my own standards I am not appropriately dressed for such an occasion. Indeed I would have preferred to approach it under more classy circumstances.”

“Be it as it is. How should I treat you now in your opinion?”

“It would be kind if your driver could take me back into town.”

He shook his head. “Out of the question. Unluckily I have to admit that your friendliness and your understanding puts me in distress. On no account can I risk that you might tell what you now know to certain other persons. So I fear—”

While he told me this, I intensely listened for conspicuous signals, for example of operated safeties, concentrated breathing noises, the singing of drawn strings, looked around for secret loopholes, dancing shadows and other evidence of an imminent attack.

Thus I saw and heard the approaching missile hissing and riding on a fire-tail over the forest shortly before its impact in our meeting room.

The air seemed to disappear as his arm dropped. Eric had to remind himself how to breathe. He went through the motions, his brain signaled his lungs to expand and yet still nothing happened. The absence of oxygen started to cloud his vision. He ordered his legs to move. A moment later, he stepped into the sunshine. The hot desert breeze mocked him as it curled around his neck.

His chest moved and his mind seemed to reconnect with his body. He closed his eyes, his heart processing the information from Dr. Raines before tucking it away.

Charlie pulled up and they headed out to the first address on the list of possible locations Marco Valnes could be holding Rebecca and Lucy. Along with Jorge's location, they also made a list of every location recently deserted or sold.

Eric's mind spun with the passing scenery, the clock in his brain continuing to tick. The sun rose, bringing with it the harsh light of reality. A new day without Rebecca and his heart thudded painfully in his ears. It seemed easier in the dark of the night. The blackness cushioned the raging of his heart, but now the day dawned and she was still missing.

His thoughts turned dark and he rejected them. No. I am going to find her.

"Which way?"

Charlie's voice pulled Eric out of his head.

"Eric?"

He did his best to push the helplessness away, shove it down and lock it in a steel trap for another time. "Left." Gulping back the pressure that surrounded his heart before, he turned his attention to the road ahead.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah."

Charlie pulled off the road and parked the truck before reaching beneath the seat to grab Eric's spare weapon.

"Ready?"

Charlie nodded and the pair stepped out of the truck and split up. He took the back and Eric the front.

Eric swerved through the maze of dead trees and scattered brush before he reached the front porch and climbed the steps. The place looked deserted, but there was no sense in taking any risks.

"Las Vegas Police, anybody home?"

With no response, Eric tried the door. It turned in his hand and opened without effort. He quickly cleared the door, searching each room, he found the house abandoned.

"Charlie!"

"Clear!" his brother called from the back of the house.

He pushed the air out of his lungs, heard his brother's footsteps and holstered his weapon. They investigated the entire house, top to bottom. His mind throbbed with agonizing weight, the blackness of despair hovered just a few breaths away. "This place is deserted. There hasn't been anyone here in a while."

"You're sure?" Charlie met him on the porch.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why, did you find something?"

"No."

Eric shook his head as he took one last look. Charlie followed behind and they got into the truck, looking up the second address.

"The next address is outside Indian Springs," Eric said as Charlie pulled onto the road. Eric dialed Lug, who was heading the search from the police station, and got his voicemail. His focus went to the scenery, consciously keeping himself centered and steady.

His phone buzzed and he answered. "Detective Stiles."

"Stiles," Lug said. "They found one of the girls."

"Where?"

"Crystal Springs PD."

When Paul pushed open the door, he could see nothing amiss. Just a few guys dressed pretty much like himself in faded Levi's and tight white T-shirts, standing around, drinking beer and shooting pool. Paul let his eyes adjust to the gloom, then walked over to the bar and ordered a beer.

"Sure thing, big guy," the bartender had said, winking at Paul as he handed him a frosty longneck. Paul held out a five, then watched apprehensively as the young redhead ignored the bill, reaching instead for the thick mass of Paul's right triceps. "You," the man whispered, his voice dripping lust, "are a fucking fox. You tangle with me, I'll do anything you want. Anything."

"Th…thanks," Paul sputtered, dropping the five on the counter and disengaging his arm. The redhead smelled vaguely of new-cut grass. Paul felt a slight stirring in his groin, not a feeling he encouraged when he was on official police business. He walked across the smoky room and leaned against the wall beside the cigarette machine to watch and wait.

It took him about ten minutes to figure out the doors. The one on the right was the toilet--men went in, did their business, came back out. It was the one on the left, he decided, that would lead to pay-dirt. Eight men went in, none came out. He took a deep breath, then pushed open the door on the left.

At first it was so dark Paul had the feeling that somebody had thrown a sack over his head. Hell, he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He didn't need to see to know what was going on, however. A pair of ears and a moderately sensitive nose told him all he needed to know. The place reeked of sex, a commingling of sweat, saliva, come, and the musk that rises off a horny male's balls. Paul had smelled it before, on his own body, in his own bedroom, in locker rooms at the departmental gym--but never as concentrated as this. This was the essence of lust. Paul started getting aroused in spite of himself.

As he stood there, pupils dilating, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, shapes began to emerge from the deep shadows. In the far corner, one man knelt before another, making little gurgling noises as a long, veiny cock slid deep into his throat. Next to them, another man, bent at the waist, muttered a seemingly endless stream of profane instructions to the leather-clad man whose hard cock pistoned in and out of his sweat-slicked ass. Everywhere Paul looked it was the same--men taking raunchy pleasure in one another's bodies, celebrating the triumph of desire in a veritable banquet of flesh.

What finally caught his attention and blotted everything else from view was the tableau that writhed beneath the room's sole dim light source. There were four of them, three clustered around one. The three were nondescript, hairy where men tend to be hairy, well-enough endowed for late-night romps in darkened backrooms. The fourth was of another order entirely. Paul sensed that in a single, jolting heartbeat.

That one was spread-eagle over piled-up boxes, his long legs draped over the shoulders of the man fucking him. The force of the relentless thrusting jarred him, made the muscles in his shoulders knot against the impact. His mouth was open, lips glistening with spittle, nursing another man's rigid cock.

A third man, facing Paul, knelt like a pagan priest at an altar, worshipping the supine man's rigid cock. He came up for air, baring a long tapering cylinder of flesh, pale skinned, dark veined, throbbing mightily in the stale, sex-heavy air. Fat, hairless balls were drawn up against the gleaming shaft. The cocksucker licked the bulging curve of the man's thigh, took a deep breath, went down on him again.

The man at the center of all this frenzied action spat out the cock he had been sucking and swept the hair out of his eyes in a gesture that was strangely familiar to Paul. The man's biceps swelled enticingly, doming in a perfect hemisphere. As Paul studied the chiseled profile, he felt a flutter of recognition in his gut. No, it couldn't be! Then the man turned his face full to Paul and there was no longer any doubt. His young partner, Jake Westerby, stared blindly at him, lips parted, eyes drooping in ecstasy. Paul stood transfixed as the unmistakable sounds and smells of orgasm assailed him. Jake's skin flushed, a deep blush that radiated from his groin, staining his belly and chest. His cheeks reddened as well, and the strong column of his neck. The waves of sexual gratification could be clearly charted against the landscape of his nakedness as Jake spewed his seed over the kneeling man's sweat-streaked face.

"Good, then I think a little celebration is in order," replied Mina. She looked at the two men. "You two pop along to the galley and bring back what's in the top left hand cupboard."

"Yes, miss," said Thorold as he and Black hurriedly left.

Mina looked with naked desire at Sarah, who blushed an even deeper red and looked shyly at Mina.

"What should I do, Miss?" she asked, nervously twisting her fingers.

"Nothing you don't want to do," smiled Mina as she finally settled in a comfortable position in the chair. She eased her legs apart slightly and her ankle-length skirt fell open along the side seam, exposing her long, perfect legs, silk stockings and her lack of underwear.

Sarah gasped aloud in shock and desire, falling to her knees as her eyes locked on the beautiful pink mound between Mina's thighs. She leaned forward and moved Mina's skirts further apart, staring intently at the pussy that was beginning to gently quiver in excitement, and without conscious though Sarah plunged her face into the glorious fleshy peach.

Mina cried out in delight as she felt Sarah's tongue push itself deeply inside. Her pussy throbbed in desire and as Sarah thrust higher inside Mina felt the immediate, glorious sensations of her orgasm. A tingle spread out between her thighs, the first hint that the mighty flood was building.

The sensation grew in intensity and radiated out over her body, increasing the build-up of wild sexual pressure inside Mina's trembling torso and legs until with a roaring gush her pussy expanded and covered Sarah's tongue and face with a deluge of hot juice.

Mina bucked in joy as the savage, powerful, stimulation flooded through her body and washed over her mind, blasting her upper consciousness away in the flood of raw pleasure. She gave in totally to the ecstasy of the moment, her nipples engorging in desire as they thrust upwards and tasted the cool air of the ship as her chest spilt out of her corset.

Sarah gasped in pleasure as she licked frenziedly at Mina's hot, sweet essence, pushing her tongue ever deeper into Mina's pussy. Her tongue explored Mina's interior with increasing vigour, probing from side to side as she tasted each wall and Mina's clitoris before plunging further up inside the hot, blissful cavern.

Mina squirmed and groaned before releasing a throaty roar of delight, corresponding to the roar of pure lust and bliss that burst from between her legs as she came. Her juices exploded outwards, showering Sarah's face and hair.

Mina shuddered and gasped as she wrapped her long, powerful legs around Sarah's body, grabbing Sarah's head in her hands in order to grind her face into her sopping wet cunny. Another spurt of clear liquid joy splashed onto Sarah, drenching her face and hair. Mina's eyes snapped open as her climax eased and she saw Thorold and Black had returned from the galley, Thorold clutching two bottles of champagne while Black held a tray on which were a huge bowl of greenhouse strawberries and a pint jug of cream. Both were watching entranced as Sarah pleasured Mina.

"Look lively, boys," gasped Mina as Sarah broke contact to turn and look at the two men. "We're both hungry for more than food."