A Wanted Man

“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you until it seems that you cannot hold on for a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time when the tide will turn.” -Harriet Beecher Stowe

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Henry heard the horses in the stable stirring around. He could smell them too. But none of it really registered for all he could focus on was Landry Boudreaux, the son of Marcel Boudreaux, the owner of the stable and the establishment in front of it, the River Ranch Saloon. The finest drinking establishment of Lafayette, Louisiana. As he ran a hand down the bare back, until once again holding the narrow waist, he drove his cock into Landry’s depths. He thought of how he first saw him when he had rode up to the stable. The way their fingers touched when he handed off the reigns, then dropped a few coins in the callused hand. He saw the look, the brown eyes staring back with that familiar stare. At the time, he wanted to touch the smooth face, then he wanted to run a hand through the dark wavy hair.

Pumping his cock into Landry’s ass he slid a hand up the long back until his fingers combed into the hair. It was soft, almost ticklish to his fingers, and he curled them into a fist and pulled Landry to his knees.

“Yeah, boy, take me,” Henry uttered as he thrust into Landry’s depths.

Landry was young, but a man in every way. Nineteen, almost twenty Landry had informed him when he had made a snide comment of him being just a boy. Just a boy. The reminder of that first impression made him scoff as he reached around and took Landry’s cock. It was thicker, longer than his own. A formable sex for a man. He smiled thinking how quickly Landry had proven himself to be the one who would receive. The one to get down and suck cock until it was hard, then drop to all fours, begging Henry to stick him. To do it. Just shove it in.

“Fucking whore,” Henry uttered as he drove his cock into Landry’s depths, hips smacking against ass. The sound of it echoed in the stable and agitated the horses. “You like my cock in ya?”

“Yes,” Landry uttered.

“You want it in the ass or in the mouth?”

“Pump that shit in my ass. Give it to me,” Landry uttered, and Henry felt him pushing back trying to get cock deeper into his ass.

Henry pulled out, forced Landry to turn and get on his back on the dirt floor of the stable. He would grind that boy into the dirt while tearing his ass up. He moved closer as Landry held his legs behind the knees, up and spread.

“Come on, put it back in me,” Landry pleaded.

Henry put his cock to the loosened opening, moved over the prone body, and shoved inward all the way. Then he fucked. Hard, a brutal pace that made him feel feverish, burning up as sweat rained down on Landry. He fucked until hips smacked ass and he was pushing Landry across the ground. He took each wrist and pinned Landry down as he continued to hammer cock into the upturned ass.

Suddenly he felt the familiar surge course through him. The tightening of every muscle. How his cock became so sensitive he was out of rhythm, just slamming it into Landry’s depths. Then he came, bellowing with the first release, then jamming his cock into Landry with every ejaculation.

“What is going on here!” Marcel Boudreaux yelled as he stormed into the stable, leading his prize mare behind him.

Henry looked up, shocked to realize how open the two of them were in the middle of the stable. Fool, he thought as he heard Landry saying something. Words that meant nothing, until he heard the betrayal.

“…daddy, he made me.”

“Made you? You asked for it, you whore,” Henry exclaimed in return.

“My son is not a…how dare you,” exclaimed Marcel, drawing his pistol.

Henry realized his situation, how things could unfold for him and none of it was good. He jumped to his feet, grabbing up his clothes, thankful is pack was still on Dutch, and rushed for the rear door, grabbing Dutch’s reigns as he ran by.

 

Henry rode naked out of Lafayette, rode to the west, heading toward Texas and out of Louisiana. He knew it would take only a short time for Marcel Boudreaux to have men out searching for him. He rode until the sun was finally below the western horizon and he knew no one was right behind him in pursuit.

Easing off his horse, ass raw from being bare in the saddle, he got dressed, refilled his canteen in a stream, and started a fire. When he finally settled down by the flaming limbs, he cursed his misfortune, then bit off another piece of the beef jerky.

“Fucking asshole,” he mumbled, thinking of Landry uttering those words. He made me. “I didn’t make you do nothing,” he uttered aloud, then feeling foolish for it.

But this frustration seemed to be a part of his life. Always having to move on, look for employment in one town or the next, and before too long, having to ride out. He knew no one would ever accept it, this thing he felt for other men. This desire for sex with them. How many men had he slept with since his first, he didn’t know. But dozens by his reckoning. And he was only twenty-two, not much older than that baby face Landry. He felt his chin, then along the jaw, feeling his beard coming in. He didn’t have a baby face. Didn’t look like a boy. He looked like a man. And he had the body to back it up. One strong and muscular from hard labor. He had come out of Mobile where he worked in the shipyard, then migrated to Biloxi, Mississippi where he did the same physical labor. But after having to flee the dock late one night, he found himself in the carefree atmosphere of New Orleans. He thought the old city would be home. A place he could live in peace on his own terms. He had a room over one of the saloons, and the comforts of an older man by the name of Etienne Fontenot. Etienne was married with two young daughters, worked at the dockyard as an importer of finery only the wealthiest of New Orleans could afford. Etienne also had a lurid desire for male companionship, and it allowed Henry to be a kept boy for nearly six months until the Mrs. Fontenot showed up to confront Etienne, telling him to get rid of Henry or she’d reveal his secret.

Henry considered his position, the Marcel Boudreaux no doubt rounding up a posse to come after him. He had seen the shock, then anger. The man saw his son down on the ground taking another man’s cock. If only he had arrived a bit sooner and heard the son begging for it. But he knew it didn’t matter. Landry was on bottom, a submissive position and nothing would change how that looked to Marcel.

Settled down on the ground, blanket pulled up to his neck, he lay awake for a long time but eventually the fatigue of a long day in the saddle, the exertion of sex, then another long ride, caused him to drift off.

Henry woke to sunlight hitting him in the face. He eased up, looking around expecting to see Marcel Boudreaux’s posse circling him. There were birds overhead and something running into the bush, but no posse. He wanted coffee, but he knew there was no time to waste on stroking up the fire to make it. He rolled up his blanket, put everything back on Dutch, climbed into the saddle and began to ride west.

He came to a small settlement with a general store and post office in its center. The store offered coffee and some basic provisions that allowed him to restock and eat something. He climbed back into the saddle once Dutch was fed and watered and continued west. It would take four days to get out of the state of Louisiana, and he knew it was important for him to do so as soon as possible.

He camped in out of the way places, among a clump of trees, down on a small pond, anyplace out of sight and away from a town or settlement. On the third afternoon, he took a chance and went into Charleston, Louisiana on Lake Charles. He went into an inn with a restaurant on the ground floor for a proper meal. He sat in the back corner, away from the door and window and out of sight of most patrons. As he left, he saw the post office across the street. Curiosity got the best of him, and he strolled across the street and into the small building. A man behind a counter was helping a woman, and he pretended to be waiting in line as he side stepped over to a bulletin board with notices and wanted posters. There was one at the bottom, newly posted for the paper was not creased or wrinkled. There was a drawing of his likeness in the middle of it. Above the reward of a thousand dollars, an ungodly sum of money, so much so, it made him gasp. Below his full name and statistics.

John Henry McCullough

22 years old

Approximately five foot ten, average build

Light brown hair, blue eyes.

 

Marcel had acted quickly.

Henry eased out of the post office, rushed across the street, cutting down an alley by the inn and ran along the back of the buildings until he came to the stables where he had dropped off Dutch.

Riding out continuing west, Henry let Dutch run as fast as he wanted.

 

 

Six days later, Henry rode into Houston, moving among the wagons, horseback riders, pedestrians trying to step around mudpuddles and horse and cow manure in the dirt street. He passed a saloon looking for a place to get a room for rent. After riding by a few buildings, he found a place with a sign out front. Rooms for Rent.

A long overdue bath, a late supper, then a stool in the saloon, one at the far end of the bar. He sipped a whiskey, letting the amber liquid warm him from within. He found himself feeling relaxed for the first time since fleeing Lafayette. The bartender turned to another customer and he sized him up, wondering if he would if given a chance. Then he saw a guy come to the bar, sitting a couple of stools away. Young, about his own age. The guy had dark brown hair and long sideburns and looked as he had before his bath. A man who had been on a horse for days, traveling the hot humid countryside.

“Whiskey,” the guy exclaimed when the bartender looked over.

Drink set before him, he turned to Henry and raised his glass.

“To a hot miserable ride in this god forsaken place,” the guy said, just loud enough for Henry to hear, then he winked and tossed the whiskey back, setting an empty glass down on the bar. “I’ll have another.”

“Where are you heading?” asked Henry.

“New Orleans,” the guy replied, stretching out the name with a heavy drawl.

“It’s hot there too.”

“Yes, but there are temptations for a man to pursue as well.”

“True.”

“You’ve been to New Orleans?”

“Yes. I lived there about six months.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Things did not work out.”

“Where are you headed?”

“West.”

“How far west?”

“How far can my horse take me?” Henry replied, holding up his empty glass letting the bartender know he would take another.

“I suspect if it is a good horse, all the way to the Pacific Ocean.”

“It’s a fine horse, so I expect to see the ocean in due time,” Henry replied, smiling toward the guy.

“I’m Thomas.”

“Henry.”

“So, Henry, have you found Houston to be accommodating?”

“Not like I hoped,” Henry replied.

“Yeah, it can be terribly lonely riding across open country. A man might lose himself, if not careful.”

“Oh, but I look to lose myself all the time. I have certain needs that can be difficult to find,” Henry replied, deciding on Thomas as someone who could help him forget that Landry boy and his overprotective daddy.

“I was a ranch hand back in Oklahoma and I have to say it never got lonely.”

“What about now? You lonely?”

Henry followed Thomas out of the saloon and along the porch across the front to the steps down. There was an alley between the saloon and the next business, a hardware store. The alley was barely five feet wide and cluttered with barrels, wood posts, and miscellaneous debris. Thomas turned into the alley and Henry followed, until they were far enough into the alley as to be concealed in darkness, hidden from view of people on the street.

Thomas turned, grabbed Henry by the upper arms and pushed him to a wall. Henry was surprised at first but when Thomas moved to him, kissing him roughly, he held him by the waist and kissed back. He felt Thomas push against his chest, then a leg push up between his legs. His arousal grew until his cock was painful in its confines. Thomas pulled back, and he felt a tug on his belt, fingers working his pants loose, and when they fell around his ankles, Thomas stooped before him. His cock was freed, then just as quickly engulfed in Thomas’ mouth. The heat and slickness of it, the tongue swirling around the head made Henry close his eyes and savor it. He didn’t care how noisy Thomas sucked or how he felt his exposure from the waist down. A hand moved under his shirt and upward until raking over his nipples. He pushed with his hips gagging Thomas. The gasping for breath around his cock increased his arousal.

Henry opened his eyes when he felt his cock flexing in open air. The coolness of it over his hot cock brought him back to his surroundings. Thomas was moving around, then leaning against the opposite wall, pants around his ankles.

“Come on, stick me. Put it in me,” Thomas begged.

Henry wouldn’t make him ask again. He moved quickly behind him, raked his wet cock between the spread cheeks until Thomas was pushing back. Then he pushed, hard, feeling the squeeze on the head of his cock. He shivered as he breached the tightness, then closed his eyes again as he felt his cock sink into the depths of Thomas’ ass.

Henry knew they couldn’t play around too long, nor did he want to hold back. He wanted to fuck, to drive his cock into the ass before him. It was a fuck between two travelers, nothing more. He held the narrow waist and hammered his cock into Thomas. He worked it deeply, all the way into Thomas, until pressed against the ass. Then he increased his pace, thrust faster and faster, trying hard not to smack against the spread ass. He leaned over Thomas, reached around until holding a hard cock. He stroked it as he worked his own inside Thomas. He once again increased his pace, fucking harder and harder until smacking against the ass. He felt the cock in his hand flex with Thomas shuddering and jerking against his chest. Shoving inward, all the way, he pushed the coming Thomas against the wall and came deep in his ass.

 

 

Henry woke to sunlight coming in through the grimy window and the sounds of the growing town down in the street. He rolled out of bed, got dressed, and headed down the outside stair to find breakfast and coffee.

Thirty minutes later he was riding out of town, heading west. San Antonio was several days ride with few towns between, and he knew he needed to be careful with his supplies. He hoped to be in Columbus in three days. From there, he would seek a map or directions.

Wiping sweat and fanning gnats, Henry let Dutch set the pace. A slow trot, then a run for a few minutes, then galloping along the dusty trails. He knew they made good time, even when at a slow pace. Twenty miles or more on each day and for two nights, he sleep on the ground, staring up at the brilliant night sky until fatigue caused him to drift off to sleep.

On the afternoon of the third day, Henry arrived in the small settlement of Columbus. He rode along the dirt street until he came to a place advertising rooms for rent and he guided Dutch up to the front, dismounted, and stepped up on the porch to enter the establishment to inquire about a room. He looked around looking for the post office and saw it was across the street within a general store.

It was a small saloon with a kitchen in back, the smell of cooking meat emanating from within. A stair sat at the back of the space leading up to an open walk along two sides of the room, with doors evenly spaced along its length.

“Can I help you?” asked an older man behind the bar.

“I hope so. I’m looking for a room for the night.”

“We got one. Seventy-five cents a night. Ten cents more, and we’ll toss in a bath.”

“You got a deal, my friend,” Henry replied as he moved to the bar taking out payment in coins. “What will you have for dinner?” he asked as he slid the coins across the bar.

“We got a beef stew for twenty cents or a steak and potato for twenty-five cents.”

“Sounds good. I’d like to get that bath first if that is possible.”

“Here’s your key, the room is at the top of the stairs, just to the left. While you get settled in, I’ll have Martin draw a bath for you.”

Gear stowed in his room, Henry went downstairs and to the room the owner directed him. It was a small room off the kitchen, with a tub in the middle of it and a small table to one side, but the thing he noticed first was the young man pouring a bucket of hot water into the tub.

“You Henry?” the young man asked.

“Yes, I’m Henry. You must me Martin.”

“Yes, the son.”

Brazenly, Henry stripped in front of Martin seeing eyes cut his way. He moved to the tub and saw a washcloth and soap were next to it on a stool. Stepping into the tub, he sighed at the comforting heat of the water, then eased down into it.

“It’s perfect,” said Henry, looking up at Martin.

Reddish brown hair, green eyes, and arms that bulged with muscular biceps he imagined holding him down during sex. Then he thought of Landry and how Marcel, the boy’s father caught them in the stable. The small room off the kitchen was less private, and therefore far more dangerous for someone who was thinking of sexual scenarios with young Martin.

“I’ll let you have some privacy,” said Martin, setting the bucket on the table and exiting the room, latching the door behind him.

“Fuck,” Henry uttered as he stared at the door. He had enough troubles back in Louisiana and Texas was far larger, far more dangerous to a wanted man. And he didn’t need a good night’s sleep stolen from him. He would bathe, grab some beef stew, then get into bed. As soon as the general store with the post office opened and he could inquire about a map or directions, he intended to be riding out.

 

The next morning as soon as the ‘open’ sign was flipped into view, Henry was entering the front door. He scanned the shelves in the middle of the room, then those behind the counter.

“Can I help you find something?” a young woman asked.

“Do you have a map of the state? I’m looking for the best path to San Antonio, and beyond.”

“Ride west, you can’t miss it,” she replied, smiling at him knowing she was being a bit sarcastic. “But we do have a map, but they are not very good, if you ask me.”

“Can I see it?”

Henry moved to the counter as she pulled a map down from a slot on the back wall. He unfolded it and laid it out seeing what she meant. It was obvious not to scale nor correct in the proportions, for Louisiana was all wrong and he knew Houston was not as close to the gulf as shown.

“I see what you mean.”

“I assume you came in on the main road from the east?”

“Yes.”

“Get on it and keep going west. It is five days ride, maybe a day longer depending on your pace.”

Henry stood straight about to ask about towns along the way, when he saw it. A wanted poster on the bulletin board behind the counter. His likeness stared back, and he cut his eyes away hoping she didn’t notice his reaction.

“I was wondering…about towns along the way.”

“Not much between here and San Antonio. There is a small settlement called Weimar then after that High Hill. Not sure about accommodations, but I’m sure you can get provisions,” she replied as she folded the map.

“Well…I thank you,” Henry replied, stepping back from the counter a couple of steps, then he headed for the door, crossed the street where Dutch was tied off. He saw some of the people watch him ride by as he rode out of town, wondering if one of them recognized him as the wanted man from Louisiana.

For the next three days, he felt like he was being followed. Twice he pulled behind some trees and watched the trial road toward the east. He expected to see dust rise up over the horizon, then a posse closing fast. Once there was a dust cloud behind him, but it was a stagecoach, and he pretended to be setting up a camp as it passed. Once out of sight and enough time to get on ahead of him, he set off again.

He kept picturing the wanted poster, his image staring back, then the $1,000.00 Reward across the bottom. It was a hell of a lot of money. Enough to get a man killed. It made him feel like a trapped animal, just waiting on the hunter to show up and end him.

 

 

San Antonio was a bustling city of over fifteen thousand people. The streets were busy, and Henry guided Dutch past the wagons and other riders. Pedestrians seemed oblivious to his presence, stepping out in front of him as they crossed the street. He moved down what he considered a main street then took a side street that wasn’t as busy, looking for accommodations that would be on the periphery of the main business district. A couple blocks out, he came to a two-story house with a ‘Rooms for Rent’ sign out front.

“Perfect,” Henry uttered as he rode up to the split rail fence across the front.

On the porch, not sure if he should knock or go on in, he hesitated in doing either. Someone moved a curtain in the window to his right, then he heard them approach the front door. When it swung open, he saw it was a man who was slightly older, early thirties he would guess, with black hair and surprisingly fair white skin and dark brown eyes.

“Are you looking for a room?” the man asked.

“Why yes. I was thinking for one, no make it two nights.”

“I have a room available. Come on in. I’m Jannik, the owner of this fine establishment.”

Henry followed Jannik into the front parlor, shocked to see it nicely furnished, even art work was on the walls.

“This is nice.”

“Thank you. My parents brought most of it over when we immigrated to Texas. Unfortunately, Texas Fever took them about ten years ago and with the war going on, I just stayed.”

“You’re not married?”

“OH, no.”

Henry looked up before signing his name to the ledger, looking into the dark brown eyes, then he made himself look down as he signed his name.

“I assume you have bathing facilities on the premises.”

“In back, past the kitchen, I have a tub. Let me know when you’ll want it and I’ll heat water.”

“I’ve been riding for days after my last bath, so as soon as I stow my things, I’ll be ready for it.”

Jannik smiled, nodding his head. “Of course. Your room is upstairs, the one facing the street. I hope you can sleep in it. I prefer the room at the back of the house; it’s more private.”

Henry wasn’t sure how to respond. He wanted to make some insinuating remark, for he felt Jannik was giving him all the signals. But he didn’t want to act hastily and ruin a good night’s sleep. Getting his bath might tell him what he wanted to know.

 

 

The scene was familiar, but the room was nicer and the person was different. Older, but just as attractive to Henry. About his own height, but leaner build, Jannik was attractive.

“The tub is ready,” said Jannik stepping to a side table to pick up soap and a washcloth.

Henry began to strip out of his clothes. Shirt unbuttoned, he slid it off the shoulders.

“Any there anything else I can get you?” asked Jannik.

“Something to scrub my back?” Henry asked with a sarcastic tone.

Jannik chuckled then set the soap and cloth by the tub.

Henry noticed how Jannik was in no hurry to leave as he undid his pants. He didn’t hesitate, working each leg free and tossing them on top of his shirt. He looked Jannik in the eye as he pushed down his underwear.

“I should get back to the front,” Jannik exclaimed, rushing out of the room.

Henry laughed as he stood by the tub naked. He felt tired, dirty, and sexually aroused, wondering what it would take to satisfy the latter. He stepped into the tub and eased down into the hot water, moaning with the pleasure of it.

 

 

Henry was standing by the tub of dirty water, toweling dry, when the door swung open. Jannik came into the room, daringly close after the way he fled the room earlier.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted your clothes laundered. I know someone who is reasonable and…”

Henry ran the down towel down each leg then stood draping it over his shoulder. Naked, cock hanging heavier than before, he stood before Jannik desperately wanting to see a response.

“That would be nice.”

“I can just take them…”

Jannik leaned to the dirty garments on the floor, only a couple feet away, and Henry saw the head turned, how the eyes looked up his legs until focusing on his cock. He tugged on it and moved closer to Jannik.

“You don’t need to hurry. We could get to know each other,” said Henry as he reached out and ran his hand through the thick black hair.

Jannik froze, then reached out and touched Henry on the leg, rubbing it up and down.

“Can you help me out?” Henry asked as he took his cock and held it up in Jannik’s face.

A moment’s hesitation, then Henry watched his cock disappear into Jannik’s mouth. The head moved back and forth, and he grew harder, longer, until fully erect and rock hard. Jannik pulled off, breathing hard.

“Not down here. Let’s go upstairs…to my bed,” said Jannik standing upright, taking Henry by the hand and leading him naked out into the hall to the stair. On the second floor, Henry followed him to the room at the back of the house. A large bed with a canopy of fine shear fabric dominated the room.

“It’s so I can sleep with the windows open. The mosquitoes are awful,” said Jannik when he saw the look toward his bed. He pulled the canopy back and started to turn back to Henry, but Henry was quickly behind him, pressing hard cock against his ass.

Henry held Jannik within his arms, feeling the lean body within the clothes. He kissed the back of the neck and began to undo the buttons of the shirt. Jannik relaxed against his chest, submissively letting Henry open the front of his shirt, then undo his pants. He let the shirt slide off, then raised each foot letting Henry strip him, then he backed to the bed and eased down on it watching Henry follow, crawling on the bed on all fours over him.

“Will you do what I want?” Henry whispered, then leaned down and kissed Jannik on the neck and up to right ear.

“Yes,” Jannik uttered breathlessly, barely loud enough for Henry to hear.

Henry moved over Jannik, down the lean body until he could hook each arm behind the knees, then he moved upward, lifting the legs then pulling them back as he moved to hover over him. He pressed his cock against the upturned ass, let it rub over the tight opening, then poke at the loose sac and slide along the hardening cock.

“Fuck…fuck me,” Jannik pleaded, pushing up with the hips.

Henry shifted position, worked his cock down, along the side of Jannik’s, over the tightening sac, until pushing against the tight opening. He felt Jannik push upward and he pushed down feeling the breach of the tight opening, and he kept pushing, sinking inch after inch into the hot hole. Then he was working his hips, pumping deep into Jannik. His pace was slow and steady, letting Jannik feel every inch working through his opening.

He opened his eyes and saw the head tilted back, mouth open, moaning and grunting with his every push inward. He was rock hard and so aroused. His pace increased, thrusting with greater urgency. Faster and faster, until the sound of flesh smacking against flesh echoed in the room. The bed began to squeak then bang against the wall.

Jannik cried out, moaned, and grunted with wild abandon.

“Fuck…take me, take me,” Henry uttered as he shoved as deeply as possible into Jannik’s hole.

Henry slipped arms around the prone body and rolled to his back. With Jannik on top, he reached for the hard cock hovering over his stomach and slid fingers over the leaking head and down the curved shaft.

“Come on, move that ass,” Henry exclaimed as he stroked Jannik’s cock.

Jannik rose until nearly slipping off Henry’s cock, then he began to work his ass on it. Up and down, faster and faster, until the bed squeaked and rocked beneath them.

Henry was close, so very close, but he knew Jannik was as well. He felt it in the flexing cock, how it swelled thicker in his fingers and how Jannik lost his rhythm, moving with a roughness, a physicality that pushed Henry over the edge. He threw his head back and shoved upward and came. Jannik kept moving on his spurting cock, each ejaculation almost painful as the ass moved on it. Then cum hit him in the face and rained down on his chest. Jannik cried out and ground his ass down on Henry’s cock.

Then they fell still, both panting and gasping for breath.

 

 

Henry woke to sunlight filtering through the shear curtains. He rolled to his back and stretched out his arms luxuriating in the feel of the soft linens on the bed. Then he realized Jannik wasn’t in the bed. He sat up, listening out for any sound. The house was silent, too silent. He eased out of the bed and eased down the hall to where his pack was still sitting on the bed he had been prepared to sleep in. Instead, he woke in Jannik’s bed, and now found himself alone in the house.

Quickly dressed, Henry eased out the back door to the outhouse in the rear yard. When he came back inside the house, he saw Jannik sitting at the small dining table in the kitchen. He looked white as a ghost and severely shakened.

“You want to explain this?” said Jannik, sliding the now familiar wanted poster across the table.

“Goddamn it,” Henry uttered, putting his hands on top of his head and spinning around in frustration.

“Are you a murderer?”

“What? NO!”

“Then why are you wanted?”

Henry went to the opposite end of the table and eased down into a chair. He rested his forearms on the table and took a deep breath.

“I was in Lafayette, Louisiana when I met Landry Boudreaux. He was nineteen and worked in their family’s stables. They had an inn, a saloon, and…hell, probably owned half the town. Landry was so fucking attractive and when he showed a willingness, I…”

“You fucked him.”

“I was fucking him, when Marcel Boudreaux stormed into the stable catching us.”

Jannik looked surprised, then he began to chuckle, then laugh out loud.

“It’s not funny. You see the reward amount.”

“I’m sorry, but the idea of it…well, it is rather humorous. So you got caught with your dick in the man’s son’s ass and now he wants to hang yours.”

“Something like that. I’ve been riding west ever since thinking sooner or later I have to get out range of his search.”

“For a thousand dollars, I’m afraid you can ride to the Pacific Ocean and may still find yourself being hunted.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Ride south.”

“Mexico?”

“If you’re going to get away from this,” holding up the reward poster, “ that is your best option.”

“But Mexico?”

“I’ve traveled down the east coast to Heroica Veracruz and it is a lovely place. You could do worse.”

“How far is it to this Hero..ca Vercruz?”

“Heroica Veracruz, and I’m not sure on horseback. I took a steamship, but not something I would recommend for you. You’d be trapped if found on board.”

“How do I find this place?”

“Easy. But first you need to get across the Rio Grande and into Mexico as fast as possible. I think heading to Piedras Negras is the closest point of getting across and the trails to it should be good. Still, I’m afraid it is a six-day ride, at best, to Piedras Negras.”

Henry sat back, sighed heavily, resolved to the fact his fleeing from Marcel Boudreaux was not over.

“Just a minute,” said Jannik getting to his feet. He left the kitchen and Henry could hear him stirring in the front parlor. When Jannik came back into the kitchen, he carried and frayed and wrinkled map.

“I’m afraid this is the best map I’ve got,” said Jannik laying it out in front of Henry. “You want to leave San Antonio on this road, heading southwest, then west to Piedras Negras, just across the river in Mexico.”

“Any problems getting across the river and into Mexico?”

“Are you kidding? None. But that will be the easy part. You need to ride back to the southeast, running parallel with the river until you get near the gulf, then ride south along the coast.”

“Why not just ride south from here,” Henry asked, pointing at Piedras Negras.

“If you could keep a good line to the east of the mountains in this region, maybe, but if you get into them or west of them, you’ll be in a very dry inhospitable terrain for someone on horseback. Although if you headed to Monterrey, you might cut some time off your ride. And let’s be honest, any place in Mexico would be good to set yourself up.”

“I like the idea of being near the water.”

“Then head east from Monterrey to the coast and find you a place you like. Just be aware it is a long ride to Monterrey, and you’ll need to find places to replenish your supplies.”

“It doesn’t look much further to follow the river to the gulf, then head south.”

“That is my suggestion.”

“I guess it’s back in the saddle.”

“I wish you could stay longer, just a day or two longer, but I’m no fool and know you need to get out of here and now.”

“I’ll get packed.”

“I’ll get you some provisions pulled together. Payment for showing a man a good time,” said Jannik, smiling mischievously.

Henry felt himself blush, then he nodded and headed for the stair.

 

 

Henry rode along the trail, passing horsemen and a stagecoach heading toward San Antonio. He kept to himself, speaking to passing riders as little as possible and always keeping his hat pulled low. The hot sun made it a requirement, so he didn’t bring notice.

There was little on the trail road, a couple of staging posts, one small settlement that looked like it was dying with some houses empty and in disrepair. He slept each night on the ground under one of the stunted trees that were scattered across the region, and built the smallest of fires to make coffee or cook the rabbit he managed to kill on the third afternoon.

The afternoon of the sixth day he came to the bridge crossing the river. He looked back expecting to see a posse closing in on him, but there was only local traffic of horsemen, wagons, and people on foot. He turned and looked across the bridge at the city spread out before him.

“Come on Dutch, let’s go,” Henry uttered, and he rode across the bridge.

Supplies replenished and two restful nights in an old inn near the river, Henry set out early the third morning following a trail road that ran parallel to the river. He rode to Reynosa, then turned southeast and kept riding until he was on the sandy shore of a large bay. He looked at the old map Jannik had given him to get his bearing, then he set up camp under the trees to rest.

 

 

On a windy afternoon, clouds crossing over the land headed toward the coast, Henry rode into Tampico. He had lost count of the days he had been on horseback. Riding into the city, he found it like Reynosa and Piedras Negras. Alien, none of the conversations he overhead were decipherable, and a sense of loneliness welled up. Moving through the crowded streets he felt isolated.

He knew he should start trying to establish himself, find lodgings and some employment, maybe down on the docks or in town at a stable or blacksmith’s shop. But he still felt restless, unmoored. After just two days, he was back in the saddle riding south.

He would ride for days, most far enough inland to avoid the bays, bayous, and river deltas. He passed through small settlements and towns, crossed rivers on ferries and streams via wood bridges.

One day he realized he was riding with more and more people Some on horses or donkeys, some in wagons, a few in stagecoaches, but as he neared the city of Heroica Veracruz, more and more people were on foot. He rode into the city and spent the rest of the day exploring part of it, looking for a place to get a room. After some awkward moments and eventually finding someone who spoke some English, he rented a room at a small inn. He went to a bank and converted the money he had left to pesos. He made a note of the conversion knowing if he didn’t get work soon, it wouldn’t matter.

Finding food was easy, he just followed his nose, founding himself in a small courtyard with the smell of grilling meat filling the air. Two men played guitar, whose music gave the place a festive atmosphere. He pointed at the food he wanted, then took it to one side of the courtyard, away from most others and sat to eat and watch the people.

 

 

Henry walked the city, along busy streets and side streets that were quiet, leading to out of the way places. He made his way to the beach where men were fishing, and children played in the low surf. On the flat horizon he could see one island, low and not very large. As he strolled the city, he looked for work, growing more desperate as one day became two, then three, his money quickly running out.

It was late in the day, his stomach growling with hunger, that Henry entered a restaurant where he heard English being spoken. He saw men huddled around a table that Henry knew immediately were old soldiers from the Confederacy. At another table he saw a two men and a woman, all overdressed for the hot climate, then he heard their English. It was different, less dialect of a southerner, realizing they had to be from England.

“Will it just be one for dinner?” a man asked in clipped English.

Henry was surprised to see a native person speak English so well.

“Yes, but first, may I ask if you are need of assistance? A cook or waiter perhaps?”

The man eyed him, then smiled. “Maybe. Shall I seat you then go get the owner?”

“Yes, please. I would be most appreciative.”

 

 

An hour later Henry left with a full stomach and employment. He whistled with his joy as he headed back to the inn. The owner, Uvaldo, and his wife, Olaya, told of the restaurant’s history and how it had become a destination for English tourists and the expatriates living in the city. They were in need of someone who would be willing to work in the kitchen washing dishes, and during their busiest hours, as a waiter who could communicate with the English speaking patrons.

Henry knew the starting pay wasn’t much, but it was enough to let him slowly get settled in the city and it gave him a place to meet others who spoke English, and he hoped one of the staff would teach him Spanish. The waiter he had met was Fermin, then in the kitchen there had been the husband and wife team of Benito and Carmen. The dishwasher was a young man by the name of Joaquin, a nephew of the owners.

 

 

The days became weeks, as Henry settled into a life in the old city. Fermin and Olaya had been the two that were best and most patient in teaching him Spanish. Benito helped him with a place to rent, just two rooms over a small shop that sold rugs and blankets run by two sisters. The oldest was Silveria, the one who stayed in the rear of the shop piecing together blankets, and the youngest was Mercedes, the one who spoke some English and ran the business. They lived in the back of the shop in rooms that circled around a courtyard, and within the courtyard there was a stair leading up to the rooms over the shop that became Henry’s home.

On days he wasn’t needed at the restaurant, he would sit in the front room at the window overlooking the street. It was so hot during the day, he just sat lifeless while watching the people moving along the street or stopping into the businesses. Like most in the city, he waited for evening before going out. Once the sun set and day became night, was when the city seemed to come alive, and he would venture out, exploring different areas until hunger led him to a restaurant or some street vendor set up in the edge of an alley, cooking over an open fire. Appetite sated and tired of walking, he would find a tavern or a small bar that opened to the street, and with his new second language, slide in next to some local patrons for a night of drinking tequila and beer.

Henry couldn’t keep up with most conversations, but he enjoyed just listening to the people talk. He was still excited about his new surroundings, but he was also getting lonely. When working at the restaurant, to have English speaking patrons helped with the loneliness, but it could only alleviate his loneliness so much.

The weeks became months, and after four months, Henry found himself in a routine. He had found some English language novels in a shop and surprised himself by purchasing two to them. On hot afternoons, he would sit at the front window and struggle through the pages. He started with The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, for it was an easier read, but once finished, he began to tackle Middlemarch. He found the books improved his English, and Olaya and Benito continued to improve his Spanish. He come to know the neighborhoods in which he lived and worked, even getting on friendly terms with some of the people. The sisters began to invite him to lunch or dinner and he assisted them in their shop when moving the large rugs or setting out a new blanket.

Then the day came that would change his life.

 

 

It was late, Benito preparing to shut down the kitchen for the night, when two men and a boy came into the restaurant. They apologized for being so late, explaining they were visiting the city for business, having traveled up from Anton Lizardo. Fermin sat the men, telling them not to worry, they would serve them despite the late hour.

Henry was wiping down the bar that ran along the right side of the small dining room, and he kept looking at the younger of the two men. He heard them talking to Fermin, then among themselves when Fermin went to the kitchen.

The oldest man was Mateo, and the other two were his sons. The oldest was Diego and the youngest, still a boy, was Jose. It was Diego that captured Henry’s eye. He looked about his own age for he was filled out, muscular in his build, with the dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a dark skin tone of so many of the region. Henry didn’t know why Diego was one to draw his attention, to make him think of his sexual attraction, but he soon realized Diego was looking at him with fleeting glances. Then there was the smile at being caught looking. The straight teeth and framing the smile, dimples that brought out a boyish appearance.

Henry loitered at the bar, finding tasks to keep himself busy as the father and sons ate dinner while talking of their plans for the next day. Nearly finished with their meals, Mateo told Diego to get them another beer, and Henry watched Diego push back from the table and come to the bar.

“Beer…two?” asked Diego, holding up two fingers.

Henry smiled, then leaned close to him. “Are you old enough to drink?”

Diego smiled back, as if he knew what Henry was up to. “I am twenty. And you? Are you old enough to serve?”

“Older than you. I’m twenty-two, twenty-three in…” Henry stammered, suddenly realizing he had no idea of the date and therefore how close to his birthday in October.

Diego laughed, shaking his head. “You forgot the time?”

“Yes,” Henry replied.

With beers in hand, Diego walked back to their table. Henry watched him, how the ass moved in the pants and biceps stretched the sleeves of the shirt tight. He sized him up, shorter by a few inches, but more muscular. And he had to turn when Mateo looked over, for fear the father could read it in his face, this desire for his oldest son.

 

 

The next night, Mateo, Diego, and Jose came into the restaurant. Henry was waiting on tables for Fermin was off. He led them to a table along the left side of the dining room, took their order, and headed to the kitchen. He carried drinks to the table seeing Diego make eye contact and smile, and unable to control himself, he smiled back feeling his attraction toward him. Jose was goofing off, trying to get Diego’s attention, so Henry excused himself and went to the kitchen to help Carmen pull together their meal.

The crowd of patrons thinned out and soon Mateo stood, telling his sons it was time to go. Henry felt disappointed even if all he was able to do was look. Jose got up and headed toward the door as Diego said something to his father, then strolled to the bar as Mateo followed Jose out.

“Can I get a beer?” asked Diego.

“Of course,” Henry replied, pleased to see Diego was going to hang around. He set a beer before Diego, suds sliding down the side of the mug, and waited to see if Diego engaged him in conversation.

“You’re American.” It was stated as fact.

“Yes.”

“Why are you in Mexico?”

Henry laughed, a nervous laugh, as he tried to figure out what to say. He looked over at the old Confederates knowing it was common for men on the run to be in the old city. He decided on the truth, or as much of it as he dared to say at this point.

“I was messing around with someone in Louisiana and their father took exception.”

“That is all?”

“The father put a wanted poster out for me for an insane amount of money.”

It was Diego’s turn to laugh. Then he leaned in close, lowering his voice.

“It was the man’s son, right?”

Henry grinned, shaking his head, not in response to the question but to Diego asking it. Who was so bold as to ask such a thing?

“Yes,” he replied in a low voice, and Diego smiled at him, mouth framed by the dimples that made Henry want him even more.

Diego had two beers as Henry cleared up the last of the tables, the final patrons strolling out into the night. When Diego was the only person remaining, Henry went to the bar, but not to the backside, but to the stool next to him, and sat.

“How long are you in the city?” Henry asked.

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning, but our business brings us here about once a month, maybe more now that we are in the summer months.”

“You haven’t said: what kind of business?”

“We make fishing lures and nets. Most nets we sell back home but there is a good business selling lures here in the city.”

“You make the nets and lures?”

Diego laughed, shaking his head. “Not me; not good at it. Ricardo and Alicia help papa with making everything.”

“Ricardo and Alicia? Another brother and a sister?”

“Yes, between Jose and me.”

“How far is it to…the place you’re from?”

“Anton Lizardo, and with our old donkey it takes a day. A little over half a day on a good horse.”

“I see.”

“But that trip is not until tomorrow. How far to your place?”

“Fifteen-minute walk.”

Diego smiled causing Henry to do the same.

“You want to show me?” asked Diego.

“I’d really like that.”

 

 

Henry eased up the stair in the courtyard, Diego right behind him. It was quiet, all the rooms around the courtyard dark as expected for the hour. Henry unlocked his door and eased it open, letting Diego enter first.

“Let me get a lamp lit,” Henry whispered as he passed Diego in the dark room until at the small table set nearby. The flame in the oil lamp lit and glowed bright, and Henry adjusted the wick until the flame was half as large and the room dimly lit.

“This room is where I stash my things and what foods I store and in there is the room I live and sleep in,” said Henry as he gestured through the open doorway. He watched Diego enter the small front room trying to see it as Diego must be seeing it. A bed on the right wall deep in shadow, and chair and table by the window at the front. The window was open, the two halves swung out letting the room cool with the night. Along the left wall an old dresser that held a few items of clothing, and on top the two novels.

“It’s like most; modest but nice, and you have a view of the street below,” said Diego as he moved to the window and looked at the quiet street running past the building.

“Can you stay the night?” asked Henry, almost breathless with desire and anticipation.

“I told papa I was going to explore the city and may not be back until morning.”

“What did he say to that?”

“What he has said in the past; nothing.”

“He’s okay with you being here?”

“He doesn’t ask, so he doesn’t know.”

Henry moved to Diego at the window and slipped his arms around the narrow waist feeling the firmness of the stomach. “I’m not your first,” said Henry, spoken as fact.

“No, but I wish there was just one. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Henry replied as he kissed the back of the neck, then around to the ear. “God, you’re so…I want you,” he uttered.

Diego leaned back against Henry, rubbed up against him, back to chest, ass to crotch. It aroused Henry, made his cock stir. He ran his hands underneath the shirt, over the smooth warm skin until he felt his hands rub over the hard nub of each nipple. Then he pinched down on one and felt ass push against his growing erection.

Diego pulled away, turned to face Henry, pulling his shirt over his head. The smooth chest came into view, muscular, pecs clearly defined. He undid his pants and let them fall around his ankles, followed by his underwear. Uncut cock hung over a dark sac and Diego tugged on it until the head slipped free.

Henry stood transfixed as Diego became fully erect, cock sticking out, curved upward. Then he began to remove to his own clothes, shirt, pants, and underwear, until he too stood naked. He felt so aroused, his cock angled out hard as rock. Diego moved to him, going to his knees. Henry watched his cock disappear into the hot slick mouth. He moaned, struggling with the desire to pump his hips. He closed his eyes focusing on the sensation of touch. The lips sliding along his cock, the tongue that tortured the head of it, and the hot exhales from the nose that pressed into his pubic hair. He balled his hands into fists as he listened to the sounds of Diego on his cock. The slurping, the sucking, the gasping for breath.

It was too much, and not nearly enough. Henry pulled Diego to his feet and led him to his bed. He crawled over the prone body. Dark, mysterious, his shadow…his desire made manifest. He kissed the head of the cock, down its shaft, and over the tightening sac. He kissed up the abdomen, around the navel, and up the chest until he could put lips over the right nipple. A hard suck. A light bite. Diego cried out and arced his back, pushing up against his mouth.

“No te detengas!”

Henry heard the cry, the utterance that he understood without hearing the specific words. He moved up the chest, to the slight indention at the base of the neck, and he kissed it, then licked it, dragging his tongue up the neck to the smooth chin. He slid his cock along side of Diego’s cock as he moved to press their lips together. Undulating over the body with skin touching and rubbing together. A caress. Then fingers digging into flesh and muscle.

The room seemed to grow hot instead of cooling in the late night. Sweat beaded up on skin as Henry moved over Diego. He felt Diego move, legs spread, knees rise, then legs warp around his waist. Diego was moving with him. He felt the heat of the body against his own. He felt the legs locked around him, then hands moving over his back, slick movements that inflamed his arousal. His cock flexed against Diego, and he felt another flex against his stomach.

“Put it in me,” Diego whispered. Then Henry felt lips tug on his ear, then tongue swirl around is curvature.

Henry climbed to his knees, taking the outstretched legs held up before him and spread them wide apart. With arms thrown over his head, Diego was spread out before him. Torso stretched out, cock laying heavily over the abdomen, and ass spread wide. Henry moved closer until his leaking cock touched the tight opening. He worked his hips rubbing over the opening, then a hand took it, holding it to the opening.

“Please…Henry…” Diego cried out.

Henry slowly penetrated Diego. The head of his cock slipped through, inch after inch until half buried inside him. Then he began to fuck. Short slow strokes, working his cock through the tightness until he felt it loosen. He increased his pace, pushed deeper, working his cock into Diego’s depths until moving with a steady pace. Fucking with an urgency and need that blurred the space around him. He was breathing hard and so aroused he couldn’t stop. Feeling fingers digging into each thigh, he fucked faster, jamming into Diego’s depths. The bed rocked and squeaked beneath them. Sweat trickled into his face and down his chest. He felt his masculine nature, his sex. He felt alive and more aware of himself than ever before. Diego wanted him, wasn’t shy in following him home, to getting in his bed.

Henry felt close, too close, and he slipped free of the loosened hole and let his cock hover between them as he descended from the high of his arousal.

“Roll over,” said Henry and he help guide Diego to this stomach. He straddled the thighs as Diego reached back and spread his cheeks. He moved over him, rubbed his cock up and down crevice feeling it slicken with his leaking cock. Then he penetrated Diego again and buried his cock inside him. Held up on his hands, he hovered over the prone body and watched as he tugged his cock out of the raised ass. Then he pushed down, sinking his cock back into Diego until his hips pressed against it.

“Fuck me,” Diego uttered.

Henry tilted his head down and ran his nose through the black hair capturing Diego’s scent as he began to work his hips, tugging outward, then pushing down, over and over until fucking. Fucking with a steady rhythm that left him breathless and raining sweat down on Diego. He piston his cock in Deigo’s hole, pushing down until his hips smacked against the raised ass.

Diego moaned and uttered strained mutterings while moving beneath Henry, working his ass up to take all of him, every fucking inch. He wanted the penetration, the fullness of it. He clutched at the bed working his body until his own cock ached for release.

Henry felt his need for release. His breathing grew ragged, and his rhythm irregular, at times jamming cock into Diego with a desire that bordered on madness. He lay heavily on him, shoved into Diego’s depths and ground his hips against the round ass. He wrapped an arm around the long neck and pulled their bodies tightly together. Then he pushed inward all the way and kept trying to jam his cock deeper as he came. Every ejaculation made him grunt and try to push deeper into Diego. He was desperate to feel this connection, his cock buried inside of him, and he shivered with the feel of it as it flexed with every spurt until he was finally spent.

Henry rolled to Diego’s side heaving for breath. He ran a hand down his sweaty chest until holding his slimy still hard cock. As Diego rolled over, he reached over and took his cock. He felt it fill his hand and he stroked it until his hand was slick.

“Let me,” Henry uttered as he rose and moved over Diego with his back to him. He let his upper body rest against Diego’s left shoulder as he reached down and held Diego’s cock up. He moved his ass to it, rubbed the cock over it, then held it to his opening. Diego moaned as his ass stretched over the head, and Diego cried out as he pushed down, sinking inch after inch into his ass until seated on it.

“Tomame…tomame,” Diego cried out as Henry moved on his cock.

Henry moved on Diego until the muscles in his stomach burned with his exertion, then he held his ass over Diego and moaned as he felt Diego thrust upward, hard and fast, driving cock into his depths. He stroked his own cock to renewed hardness as Diego continued to shove upward with a brutal pace.

“Ya voy…I’m coming,” Diego cried out as he put his hands on Henry’s waist and pushed him down on his spurting cock.

With Diego on his side, Henry moved up behind him. He took the right leg and held it up as he slid his cock over the spread ass until it was slick. He slipped easily into the loosened hole and slow fucked. Eased into Diego’s depths, savoring the feel of every inch squeezing through the tight opening. He took Diego’s cock and stroked it, slowly, the same pace of his fuck.

It would take a long time to come, and before either did so, they shifted positions, traded places, until so weary from their exertions they could barely move. They came gasping for breath, then collapsed in silence, naked bodies snuggled together.

 

 

Henry found himself staring out the door of the restaurant, or at the table where Diego had last sat with his father and brother, as he replayed the night with Diego in his bed. He went through the motions of serving customers, cleaning up tables, even helping Joaquin wash dishes. Olaya saw how he was distant, not talking much over the course of the day, but she, like the others, left him alone, sensing there was nothing they could say.

Henry looked at other men, sized them up, finding each one wanting. He knew he was just lonely, a man who felt lost. Living in a strange land and feeling more like an outsider than from just his nationality. A man who sought the companionship of another man. He knew the term, the one that described someone like himself, but he hated it. How it sounded, so clinical as to be lacking in defining who he was a person. Before Diego, he sought companionship where he could find it, but now Diego controlled his thoughts. He ignored the fleeting looks or gestures by other men meant to show a willingness. The images he conjured of sex were of his sex with Diego. Imagines of the male form were of Diego. The uncut cock curved upward with arousal, and the round ass, so firm and smooth when stroked. The dark skin, the dark brown eyes that had looked at him with longing and knowing.

But it was more than the sex and the physical aspects for the strongest memory, the imagine he conjured most often was waking early that next morning to the warm body snuggled next to him. The comfort of having Diego there, softly breathing in sleep. He thought of how it felt against his chest and within his arms. How it felt to kiss the back of the neck, to run his nose through the soft hair, and to feel how they were in sync with their breathing.

By the time Diego and his papa and brother walked into the restaurant four weeks later, Henry had to hold the bar to keep from rushing to him.

They didn’t tease or flirt as before, but found themselves simply strolling back to Henry’s place late in the night. And as before, their sex was intimate, and physical when aroused to the point of release. Diego slipped out at daybreak to help his papa and brother, and in the evening after a long day, show up at the restaurant in need of nourishment. Then back to Henry’s to satisfy their other needs.

For months the arrangement between Henry and Diego continued, their closeness growing with each visit by Diego to the city. Then one night after sex, Diego made Henry get dressed and they strolled down the nearly deserted streets until at the beach. They walked side by side along the water’s edge where small waves lapped the shore.

“Papa wants to make a change in the business,” said Diego.

Henry suddenly felt worried, wondering why Diego was sounding so serious. He tried to slow his breathing, preparing to hear bad news, like they would no longer do business in the city, or that they hired someone to do the traveling. Diego was silent far too long, and Henry rotated from one scenario to the next, each one worse than the last.

“He wants to open a shop here and sell our products ourselves,” said Diego, finally breaking the silence between them.

“A shop? What would that mean for you coming to the city?”

“I would no longer make the trip.”

“What? No, no, no. That can’t be…”

“Henry.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll move here to run the shop and papa and Jose will bring product up once a month, and when Jose is old enough he will be able to make the trip by himself.”

“You’ll move?”

“Yes, Henry, I’ll be moving to the city next month. Papa is going to look at some locations tomorrow. One of them is near the restaurant,” said Diego, smiling so broadly his teeth glowed in the moonlight.

“You’re going to be living here?”

“Yes.”

“Can we…will you…”

“Henry,” Diego interrupted Henry’s stammering. “Papa was going to look for a place for me to live, but I told him I thought I had someplace. Did I tell him wrong?”

Henry suddenly felt like a huge weight had been lifted off him. He took a deep breath and began to laugh. Then he hugged Diego unconcerned of being seen.

“No, of course not. But would he suspect something if you-“

“Henry, papa won’t question it.”

 

 

Four Months Later

Diego moved over Henry, sat on the hard cock rocking his ass over it. Henry held his ankles fighting the urge to push upward. His cock was rock hard, and every touch made it flex with his arousal. He watched Diego lift his ass, then lower it down on his cock. The loosened opening slid easily over his cock, taking the head, then inch after inch of the shaft until Diego was seated on it.

“Do you love me?” Diego asked playfully.

“Yes,” Henry uttered as he watched Diego move his ass, upward, real slow so he felt it along every inch of his cock, then back down until his cock was once again enveloped in the heat of Diego’s hole.

Diego kept his slow pace for as long as he could, then he moved faster, their fuck becoming physical. Diego was insatiable with how he moved his ass. Up and down, so fast his cock flopped heavily over its dark sac, smacking one thigh or the other, and when he leaned back resting on both hands, working his hips with an urgency, his cock smacked his abdomen as his ass moved up and down Henry’s cock.

“Fuck…Diego…I’m going to…” Henry uttered, unable to finish, instead throwing his head back and shoving upward. He shuddered and jerked as his cock exploded within Diego’s ass. He felt each ejaculation as Diego kept moving on his spurting cock.

Then Diego was moving over him, his legs resting on each shoulder. He felt his ass lift off the mattress as his legs came down against his chest. Diego’s cock touched him, raked over his opening stroking up his arousal. He took Diego in hand, guiding him to his opening.

“Diego,” Henry whispered.

Diego penetrated Henry, eased into his depths, then he began to fuck. Hips working cock out, then pushing it in, over and over, until Henry clutched at the bed and gasped for breath.

“Fuck. Diego. Fuck me,” Henry uttered.

As Diego fucked, drove into Henry’s depths, the street outside grew quiet and deserted. Below, all the lights were extinguished, and soon the brightest light over the city was the full moon creating a silvery glow over it with dark shadows in alleys and courtyards where it could not reach. But floating low in the eastern sky, it reached deep within the second story window of the little apartment on Calle Vasco Nunez de Balboa. Through the window, across the wood floor and over the old bed where Diego was on top with Henry folded beneath him. His glistening sweat covered body moved in the slivery moon light, pumping cock into Henry’s depths.

Then Diego came, shuddering with release.

Still breathing hard, they moved next to each other feeling the night air blow into the room. As it was every night, Henry held Diego to his chest.

“What do you want to do tomorrow since neither of us need to work?” asked Henry.

He saw the silhouette of the body move, the head rise and turn toward him. He knew without being able to see that Diego would be grinning.

“Let’s go fishing.”

“Are you going to show me how to use those lures?”

“Yes, and let’s go early before all the tourists.”

 

 

The eastern sky began to be illuminated. Darkness faded replaced by the soft glow of another dawn. The sky glowed yellow and red, then turned blue as the sun came into view over the calm waters of the gulf.

Diego tied a lure to the second rod and reel, then set it into the pipe section buried into the sand. He stood at the water’s edge, the low surf lapping at his feet, double checking the reels one more time.

“Cast yours first and let me see how you do it,” said Henry.

Henry looked at Diego still amazed at how he made him feel. He looked at the muscular torso revealed by the billowing white shirt open down the front. With loose white shorts, the muscular calves were also visible. Dark skin against white clothing. Dark eyes looking back. White teeth revealed by a smile. He climbed out of the folding chair and moved down the beach until next to him as the sun warmed his face.

“It is a beautiful morning.”

“Si.”