Antonio and Joe strolled back to the area where they had left Pat and the others drinking Mimosa and smoking pot while deeply embroiled in argument over who was the hottest stud among the buff work crew as they finished setting up the tents. From one hundred feet away they saw a crowd had gathered, it looked to be about two dozen men circled around the carpet. As they got closer they heard the jeering of the excited men, taunting remarks intended for victim stretched out on the carpet.
Antonio looked over to Joe. 'Sounds like someone is getting turned out...let's see who's on the receiving end...and Joe, don't get too close, these guys are already revved up and might want to start another gang-bang party.'
Joe heeded the warning and decided to hang back ten feet, refusing to get any nearer for fear the pack would turn on him. Antonio laughed and moved closer, pushed and shoved his way to the very front. The hot action below sent shock waves through his body, temporarily rendering him speechless with a throbbing hard cock. Stretched out on the carpet, naked, covered in cum, and used condoms, was Deadwood's macho stud-man, the Outlaw himself. Antonio recognized the two young studs plowing Tom's ass and mouth, they were the Outlaw's most recent conquest. Brian, the latest to loose his cherry, had Tom's beefy legs draped over his shoulders while energetically fucking him and reviling him with a string of epithets that would make a dock worker wince. Josh, was taking equal delight forcing the big guy to deep-throat his hefty sausage, laughing when Tom began to choke and gage.
Pat spotted Antonio and waved him over. 'I know you want some of this action...I still remember you being persuaded to sit on Tom's big dick, and riding the shit out of that big boy. Oh, what was it he threatened you with...Immigration! As I remember it wasn't actually a threat...more implied...the option of a threat.'
Antonio grinned. 'Hell yes! Let me at him...but it will have to be later...Joe's with me, he's hanging back a bit...told him this wild bunch was so hyped they might start a second gang-bang.'
Pat laughed. 'I don't think any of these guys want to spar with me and they know that's gonna bring it on if they mess with Little Joe. The boy is off limits...with present company excluded of course...I haven't had a chance to check out the spy-cam recording of you two in the hay loaf...hope you nailed him good...Hey, inquiring minds need to know!' Pat grinned like the Cheshire Cat. 'I've had a hard on for that little Apache stud ever since I saw Jack Daddy's dossier on him...before the boy leaves I'm gonna screw his brain out!'
Antonio smiled and licked his full lips. 'Joe was too edgy, I decided to hold off putting him under more stress. I'll sneak him away from the party during the hardcore finale, he should be ripe for the plucking about then...Which reminds me, I'm gonna need some of those suppositories, Viagra, and maybe some Ecstasy...that boy can get serious on you in a flash.'
Antonio walked back to Joe. He had to choke back the laughter, after seeing the boy's face he decided the young shouldn't attempt putting on a serious face, Joe's serious face looked a lot like Alfred E. Newman.
'Yeah, it was a take down. I didn't know the guy were well...kind of stuck up loner. His kind seems to invite trouble. No harm done, now the guy knows what sharing is all about.' As soon as Antonio said the sharing bit Joe bristled, his combative mode kicked in with the now famous clinched fist and impulse stance.
'Joe that didn't come out like I wanted...All I'm saying is the guy will be a team player after this...Oh hell, that sucks even worse, let me quit and say I'm sorry...'
Pat grabbed Josh and Brian by the ear and pulled them off Tom. 'You little cheeky bastards trying to fuck the man twice!' Pat grinned and gave a wink to the stocky man standing near by. 'Cody, see if you can teach these two pussies some manors.' Pat looked down at Tom. He was a train wreck; covered in cum, discarded rubbers clung to his chest and abdomen as if held with rubber cement. 'Cody, before you begin your instructions, I want them to clean off every drop of dick snot on Tom...maybe with their tongues!'
'Oh my God! Take me now...this has got to be heaven!' A shriek with laughter brought all eyes on the two flamboyant Hollywood makeup artists, Ray and Wayne, a.k.a., Rayette and Wilhelmina.
Pat's face lit up and he turned his attention to the new arrivals. 'Well now just you look what the Santa Ana winds kicked up...Two of Hollywood's finest! Make up artist to the stars...the recently departed stars that is.'
Ray and Wayne dropped their canvas bags and flew toward Pat. 'How ya been doing ya great big butch queen!' The two diminutive men seemed to talk in unison as they stretched their thin arms around his midsection, looking like over zealot tree-huggers.
Pat peeled their arms off his midsection after first retrieving a hand from his groin. The nibble fingers had already encircled his big cock, threatening to choke the life from the member.
Pat directed the attention to the scene below. Brian and Josh were sitting cross-legged next to Tom's cum streaked body. They looked up at the exotic Hollywood types, their mouths were a gape and their eyes registered a complete blank 'Hey guys! You look like retards...haven't you ever seen Diva Faggots?'
Ray swooped down and started consoling Josh, 'Pat, you're confusing the poor boy.' He stroked Josh's blonde hair and cooed words of encouragement. 'Now tell Ray why you're smearing cum allover this beautiful hunk of a man?' Ray leaned over and inhaled the delicious young jock's essence; he swooned and was overcome by the desire to eat him alive, starting with his brain.
Cody grabbed a fistful of Brian's curly red hair and pulled him to his feet; holding him at arm length he backhanded him forcing him back down to his knees. 'Uh-huh! So pretty boy now ya gonna try walking-the-walk ...taking-the-talk without the backup juice is how ya ended up on your cocksucking knees!' Cody started bitch-slapping Brian. 'Now boy, I can keep this up all night...let me hear the words from that pretty mouth. Go on, say it! Tell me you want to suck the cum out of my love tool!'
Brian's face was stinging, his head was osculating from the bitch slapping, he yelled. 'Please stop! I'll do what you want...just stop hitting me!'
Cody continued his pace, slapping the handsome face from side to side. Stopping for a moment he bent down and whispered in Brian's ear. 'I ain't heard the words...just say the fucking words and I'll stop!' Cody resumed the slapping, laughed and said. 'It's not like you never juiced a tube! Hell, I hear the county jailer set you up real nice...regular private hideaway, secluded so the rest of the inmates couldn't hear you gagging and choking on CO cock.' He smirked and snidely said. 'Man, you begged them screws to keep you isolated so the big black brothers couldn't get to you...Yes sir, that's exactly what they did. You ever wonder how much Boss-man cum you swallowed that year?'
'Please! Let me suck the cum...Please man...no more, I'll suck you dry I promise...' Brian looked up just in time to see Cody haul out a thick eight-inch cock and shake it in his face. 'Put them pretty lips around my meat and suck like your life depended on it.'
As Brian moved his tongue over the head he could see from the corner of his eye other men beginning to encircle him, they jacked off and mumbled nasty little comments like pretty boys are always good cocksuckers, or that his eyes were too blue...cocksucker-blue. The berating became angrier as they moved so close their dicks touched Brian's face and neck. He felt a warm splatter on his cheek, instantly he knew it was cum. His year of punk training by the Correctional Officers had conditioned him, he kept sucking Cody's fat cock, increasing the pressure, preparing to forcefully evict his sperm, patiently waiting for that brief cry of pain, as the first volley of cum is wrenched from his balls.
So much action was going down and Pat worked at a feverish pace to record it all. The entire time he clicked the camera shutter he thought how brilliant the concept of an exclusive spy-cam was. He first weighed in against stealth camera capturing ever-unguarded moment, would his circle of friends and work crews turn against him when they found out? He grinned wickedly, mummeries under his breath. 'Show time!'
Pat took hold of Wayne, stepped back a few feet off the carpet, and whispered in his ear. 'You are probably aware of the new premium spy cam. Cable links that aren't edited and used to feed the primary show. Deadwood has several of these clandestine spots; the action on this carpet is a live feed to the premium channel. I'm telling you this because you guys are professional, just don't do anything that could leap out of the small screen and bite you on the ass later.'
Wayne kissed Pat on the cheek and said. 'Thank you, thank you! How right you are...the dreaded small screen can kill a career...let me slap some sense in Miss Rayette before she winds up embarrassing every midlife faggot in Hollywood.'
'Hold on! What I just told you can't be divulged...even to your best friend Ray. The studio would have my ass if they ever found out I leaked studio-secrets. Sorry, but it's got to be that way...You know one way to get to Rayette is to put a bug in her ear. Say I just whispered an insider tip that the studio was thinking about making some changes due to poor work ethics and the shrinking talent pool issues.'
Pat realized it was pure wickedness, still the entertainment value of two older faggots mincing around yelling one liners, cattier than the Diva's on Dynasty, was simply irresistible.
Gauged through Wilhelmina's eyes all semblance of processional decorum had already been lost. Bewildered he looked at the demented action below. Rayette gripped Josh and Tom's dicks, and with the synchronized cadence of a two-stroke piston engine, he jacked the large cocks while his tongue and mouth lapped and sucked every cum deposit from Tom's heavenly body.
Rayette sat up, turned his head around to see who had dared slap his ass while he was engaged in such a delicious pursuit, tongue bathing Tom's godlike body. 'Oh it's you! Girl, can't you see I've got my hands full?'
With a catty smile Wilhelmina bent at the waist until he was inches from his friend's cum streaked face and said. 'My dear, you're simply gonna ruin your foundation with all those cum facials.' Rayette instantly touched her face, checking the multi-layers base for damage.
Wilhelmina checked for eavesdroppers, looking quickly to he right and left a gesture he had witnessed countless times back home in North Carolina, satisfied no one was listening. He said. 'Girl, we got problems...I just heard through the vine that the motherfucker studio-trash thinks we're slackers! Can you believe that shit!'
Job security was the deep dark secret fear Rayette shared with no one, however, everyone knew about it. How could they not? When one of his frequent panic attacks started Rayette would channel one of her two heroines, Deborah Kerr or Anne Revere. Both women epitomize the warm, wise, invariably stoic mother, and it was this strong matriarchal figure that provided the much-needed support for this psychotic train wreck.
Ray's background was the stuff of nightmares. In his poverty stricken home in the Appalachian foothills of Mississippi abuse began in the womb for Ray and ended at the age of fourteen when he ran away and joined the circus. Children in abusive situations back in the 1950s still found refuge among the carnival folk. Like many runaways, his family didn't try to find him. Rationalizing they had one less mouth to feed.
With a straight posture and the mannerisms of well-bred Nantucket spinster schoolteacher, Rayette spoke, enunciating like a New Englander. It was clear that Deborah Kerr's, Hannah, from 'Night of the Iguana' had come forth in Ray's hour of need.
Rayette tilted her head upwards like she was in direct communication with the heavens. 'We shall deliver to these Philistines; a cosmetic art at it's finest! We are going Botticelli on those bastards! When we're finished with our warriors they'll glow in a surreal aura and be worshipped as gods! The devout will try to claw pieces from their godlike bodies to keep as holy relics!'
The caterers used for Deadwood's soiree were the best Hollywood had to offer; they were in a league of their own, able to choose clientele, avoiding the legendary Hollywood producers who faithfully find fought in order to receive a discount or skip payment entirely.
Per dollar invested no main-stream studio came close to the return on their investment as did porn studios, repeatedly delivering staggering profits. These people had money and loved to spread it around, and oddly the distribution only enhanced their portfolios. The porn industry needed parties in remote locations where large groups with shared interest and goals could mingle without fear of the dreaded investigative reporter.
Deadwood was the daddy of locations for parting, faithfully bestowed as Best by the majority of erotic film producers, a place where ideals flowed freely, and the industry Titans could hatch deals and discover new stars.
Deep pocket and high rollers were always last to arrive, and it wasn't the Hollywood pension for being fashionably late. No, they adhered to the principle that time was money, and they didn't intend to waste it on the second string crowd.
Also very high on the list of ambiences, was the Bacchanalian acceptance to over indulge, be it booze, food or sex. After the drunken festivity a caravan of chauffeur driven limousines would safely deliver the besotted elite and companions back to the city.
Porn studios functioned like the studios of Hollywood's golden era; when stars were nothing more than fancy live stock needing constant monitoring with a watchful eye on their care and feeding, making sure they stays coast effective and show a profitable return on investment.
While investing in porn stars was thought to be a wise and prudent venture, it also was embracing the darker side of the movie industry. Main stream actors require large bucks for promoting, where as the porn star skips by on the bare minimum. All facets of comparison seem to favor the porn star, however, the greatest, and often not factored in, is the ability to use your star; and long after the star quality has faded, you still have your faithful companion.
Antonio could almost taste freedom; it was almost in grasps, right then he made a promise to do whatever it took to get across that border. He looked in Juan's eyes and delivered a Oscar winning performance, telling him how grateful older women were having a young stud with stallion like stamina, how she couldn't get enough of his action, yet had to pleaded and begged him to stop so she could cool down.
Juan looked over at Nester and Luis. 'Told ya this stud-puppy was the real-deal.' Juan's cock was rock hard and leaking, he turned to Antonio and smiled as he fisted the
large fuck stick through a hole in his pants pocket. 'See what all ya pussy talk doing to me...' Juan arranged his cock flat against his stomach. Still half protruded above his belt which he covered with his shirt. 'Nester you come with me...Luis you stay with Antonio while we get some shit.'
Luis and Antonio watched the others walk away. They spoke at the same time, laughed and demanded the other speak first. Antonio had so many unanswered questions he jumped at the chance to go first. 'Luis, what's going on with these guys?'
Luis looked down shaking his head. 'Antonio, it's been a thirty-four day nightmare! That's how long I been waiting to cross the border...they keep giving me the runaround, and they don't give a shit! They own my ass...literally!'
The dreaded suspicion that these guy were into exploiting their victims for more than money sent shock waves through Antonio's body. In a flash he thought of his buddy Rudolf, the horror he must have endured that forced him to take his own life. He had to know more. What was he gonna have forced on him.
He looked back at Luis, and thought, how can this gringo claim any Hispanic genes? He looked like that young WASP stud on 'The O.C.', Bryan or Ryan; Jean loved that TV program and never missed a show.
'Luis, I got to ask...you said your family name was Rodriguez and you lived in Simi Valley, California...Man I hate to tell you, but there isn't a drop of Hispanic blood in your veins. And what's with the address? Even I know that valley kinda leans toward White, as in White Supremacy...outspoken on the subject of Mexican immigrants.'
Luis laughed. 'It's a family joke, I'm atypical of the family, blue eyes, sandy hair, pale skin that freckles if I get too much sun. The family name goes back to the time California belonged to Spain and that was the last Hispanic. However, I'm enrolled at UCLA and got a minority scholarship...such a fuck upped system. But, hell I needed money to go to USLA and my consular told me about the minority assistance.'
Antonio looked around for Juan and Hector. 'I don't know how much time we have, but I got to know what to expect? Can you help me out...I want tell those bastards anything...please.'
Luis paused and thought about how much he could divulge. 'Tonight is suppose to be my crossing...but I've heard that so many times I'm immune to the pleasure/pain roller coaster ride. My pain when they tell me I got to wait a bit longer, they have one more 'job' for me to do for them and then I can cross over. Oh, and the pleasures is all theirs, the skuzzballs really get off disappointing me; although they have been treating me a bit better since finding me hanging by the neck in the bathroom.'
Antonio was mindful of the discomfort this was causing Luis, but he had no choice but to forge ahead. 'Luis, what exactly is the 'job' you do for them?'
Luis cringed. 'Oh yes, the fulfillment jobs as Juan refers to them. See when started out I had just enough money for a week or so waiting in this cesspool for the right time to cross. Juan keep postponing it and after two and a half weeks I didn't have a peso, so good old Juan gave me money for almost a week before he started in with the demanding. All I had to do was suck his cock...the debt would be paid. Yeah, it happened, but not until he cut me off totally, no food, no place to stay and worse of all...no crossing. That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do...he made me swallow and then told me if I puked I'd have to lick it up.'
Antonio gritted his teeth and said. 'I figured there was a sex angle involved in his crossing game...I bet the sex didn't end after the first blow job.'
Luis looked at Antonio trying to figure him out and decided that like himself, had never had homosexual sex before. 'Our situations aren't the same...I ran out of money, you have all that gigolo's money and stuff. Hell, you're both Mexicans and got that macho thing going, I bet he wouldn't think of asking you suck him off...or do any of that other stuff he has me doing.'
Antonio's face turned pale as he thought about the few pesos in his pocket. 'Luis, our circumstances aren't that different...all the money I've got is a few pesos. I lied to Juan...I've got to get across that border tonight or the latest early tomorrow morning, I'm sure the Federally will track me to Tijuana. What's the other stuff he makes you do?'
Luis couldn't hide the worried look on his face. 'Man, I thought my problems were heavy-duty...yours are way over the top! Juan is a total psycho, he believes in this black magic crap...claims to have special power, can tell what people are thinking, and he really bought the gigolo-loot story hook line and sinker.'
'Think man! We got to come up with something fast; otherwise he will pimp us both out to the lowest degenerates in the world...the Tijuana biker gangs.' Luis shuttered at the prospects.
Antonio's mind was running at full capacity, arcing between thoughts. 'Luis what if we both jump them at the border crossing...knock them out just long enough to dash across?'
Luis couldn't help but grin. 'Guy, are you insane! Juan and Nester are street thugs, they've been fighting their entire lives...Really, bad ideal...they would kill us.'
Antonio last ideal was something he never ever thought he would entertain. 'We have sex with them...the entire nine-yards, everything they want to do, no trying to fight them off, just giving it to the man.'
Luis started to say something, looked up to see Juan's smirking face... 'I was just telling Antonio that tonight is my crossing, so maybe we could go together.'
Nester doubled over laughing prompting Juan to give him a pretend fist to the gut. Juan said. 'What Ugly is cracked up about is your green punk-ass border crossing smarts. Ya making it so easy for the gringo guards to catch you...spread out; their weakness is they can't watch all the holes. Besides they're a bunch of lazy guys and like to bunch together...closer to the Tijuana border they keep two patty wagons 24/7, only fools try to cross the heavy populated spots.'
Juan stroked the silky hair on back of Luis' head and looked at Antonio. 'Papi here has built up quite a following...they gonna be heart broken ya leave them. Antonio, did Luis tell ya about his room and board fees? Yes sir, our boy here discovered his hidden talents. Got him a long list of satisfied customers...regulars with fixed appointment. If you weren't such a hot potato, we could fix you up too. But can't keep ya around with the law sniffing for ya...Get up we going now!'
Luis couldn't hide his enthusiasm, for the first time since his trouble began he smiled; even his walk bounced back to the familiar swagger. His mind raced with happy thoughts, family and friends. Then a chilling memory hit him. All the unprotected sex, not one of the long list of men he had regular sex with wore a condom. Flashes of Lisa, his lifelong sweetheart, he couldn't risk exposing her. He would go to one of those anonymous clinics in LA, no one would ever learn about prostitution.
Antonio had watched Luis' face turn from happy to sad in seconds, prompting his to ask. 'Hey Luis, snap out of it...you're getting all weird on me.'
As they followed Juan and Nester Antonio tried to stay back out of hearing range just to be on the safe side. He studies their macho swagger, how the muscles seem to ripple with the slightest twist, they had zero body fat and looked ever bit the street fighter they were. Antonio dreaded the showdown when they learn he was poorer than a migrant worker was. He still hadn't decided how he would act when they tried to force sex on him; even with the knowledge that they could easily kill him he was still undecided.
Luis lightly jabbed Antonio on the shoulder. 'You scared about what's gonna go down...wondering how you could ever put a dick in your mouth. I can only tell you how I reacted. As I told you, Juan cut me off, the town people who had been nice to me all of a sudden were hostile, calling punta and stuff, the kids threw stones whenever I tried to go in the market.'
Luis' eyes misted up and his upper lip twitched. 'I convinced myself I would die in the filthy streets if I didn't go down on Juan...I figured out what his game was, and since I had no choice decided to give the best goddamn blow job these spicks ever had. It must have worked, cause he started treating me better, almost pampering...like I was his girl. Then one night he told me we were going to a movie and he gave me a new outfit to wear...it was two sizes to small, white short shorts and a pink tank top. I looked like a whore... man, the movie house turned out to be a porn cinema, 24/7 hardcore porn. After parading me around we sat in the middle, he told me to get busy, so I did. Ten minutes later we were surrounded by guys trying to get me to suck them, which I did after Juan collected their money.'
Juan stopped and looked back, snickering he said. 'You pussies better catch up, or I leave your asses in the desert...some horny Mexican Indian be real happy finding a pair of lost gringos.'
Luis had noticed they weren't following the border, Juan had gradually taken a southeast course, he wondered if the erratic path was an attempt to confuse them so they couldn't return on their own. Another sinking feeling hit him, Juan wasn't going to let him cross.
Nester had raced ahead and now was running back. 'Juan the gully is just over that ridge, we made it with plenty of light left for your movie.' Nester's laugh was sinister; it didn't take much imagination to figure out the story plot and stars of this film noir.
Antonio was fighting off a major tailspin into depression; he needed to stay focused, telling himself whatever it took to cross that border, if not he would be joining Luis for a noose party.
Pat and a few of the guys watched in fascination as the makeup artist work on Tom. Josh was kept on as their assistant, doing the heavy lifting and fetching, however, they suspected he was ask to assist was for Ray benefit, eye-candy.
Pat kneeled and checked Tom eyes to see if he was still under the effect of the drugs. 'Oops! I think our big boy needs another round...I'd hate like hell if he woke up and found you girls manhandling him.'
Wilhelmina through his sponge up and screeched. 'Mercy! Put him on a drip or something...seriously, Tom scares the hell out of me...I love him to death, but he's just a smidgen crazy.'
Everyone cracked up and Pat said. 'Yep, the big guy has a few wires loose, but I don't think he would hurt you...much. That said, we aren't gonna take any chances' Pat handed Rayette a foil wrapped suppository. 'Turn him on his side and stick this little Fuck-bullet as far up his hole as you can.'
Wilhelmina's arms were flying in all directions, and her hands were violently shaking. With a scrunched up face looking like she was in exchurching pain, she cautioned. 'Rayette! Watch what you're doing! Oh girl, careful with those damn long nails... starch him and you surely will die!'
Ray turned and did a double take seeing Wayne's face. 'Oh god! She got her ugly face on...run girls it might be contagious!'
Pat was snapping the camera as fast as he could, all the time thinking how much the studio would love a good catfight. One thing for sure, the girls would probably have a regular spot on the spy-cam network.
A frantic Wilhelmina turned and looked up at Pat. 'You must destroy that picture of Rayette with her finger up Tom's ass! You know it's going too eventually get back to Tom...Oh god! He'll snatch that silly rug she calls hair and beat her to death with it. Oh Sir, want ya help the bitter-old, tacky-drag queen live another day?'
Rayette smiled and continued working on Tom. 'Rancid one! Your words can't do squat! I'm in my good place...So unless you want the retched studio bullies to make you cry again, I suggest you shove that tired wrinkled thing, commonly referred to as the Face into the gear and fetch the airbrush. This dreadful 'Outlaw' tattoo must go...talking about your time-line spoilers...if we had let that tat slide by, maybe the shiftless and irresponsible labels would be apropos.'
To be continued.