"Bah, it's too acidic this morning." Cosmo pushed the plate of lasagna away from him and looked out over the rocks leading down to the Mediterranean at his Limassol, Cyprus, home. He rubbed his sternum, trying to rub out the dull pain there as he admired his yacht, The Apyko, at anchor in the cove. There were many memories connected with that boat. Through the years it had been his anchor. He thought back on the man who had given it to him, the Greek shipping magnate, Alexander Petropopolous. How much had happened in Cosmo's life since then? It had been quite a ride.

"Perhaps you should go in and take some antacids and lay down," his young lover, Emile, said. "I've just about got the matches set up for the day."

The two men, the late-fifties Greek pimp and his early twenties French protégé, were sitting on the terrace of Cosmo Eracules' home base in Limassol, finishing up a lunch after their night of fucking and morning of exhausted sleep entwined in each other's arms. The housekeeper had finished cleaning the house and had left the lunch warming in the oven for them before leaving. They were alone in the house. The new Internet-based business model Emile had gotten set up had obviated the need for the muscle provided by bodyguards, and the expense of that had been dispensed with.

Over the year since Emile had attached himself to Cosmo in Las Vegas, the older man had become increasingly dependent on-and controlled by-the younger man. Not only was Emile completely redoing the business of procuring the sexual services from young studs to match up with the needs of rich men willing to pay well, but he was completely controlling Cosmo Eracules' life now. His own sexual needs were insatiable, and he did everything he could to keep the Greek pimp's unusually thick and long cock hard and pleasing him.

The Greek had aged considerably in the past year and had lost much of his commanding presence. He had sensed that the control of his business had slowly slipped out of his hands. He didn't even half understand what Emile was doing with all of this Internet manipulation. If Emile left him now, he wouldn't know the first thing about what to do to run the business. He would have to start from the ground up doing it the way he had done it for over thirty years before Emile came along-going to sea in The Apyko along with some strong-arm helpers and plucking young male whores down on their luck out of this casino or that and selling them to white slave brokers in the Arab world. There was still a market for this. He knew he could reconstruct the business. He just, most of the time, felt too tired to do so.

And the tiredness, he was sure, was from the insatiable demands from his young lover. There was little he could do about that, because he was a prisoner to the young man-a willing prisoner. He was besotted with the French acrobat, Emile. The former aerialist had a beautiful body, and a long, thin cock that could snake up into Cosmo's channel almost to his stomach, it seemed, and caress his channel walls in a way that made Cosmo explode again and again in glorious ejaculations-still strong and voluminous despite his age. And such a sweet hole that was able to caress and undulate over Cosmo's own cock, again in a profusion of ejaculations. And the positions-the small acrobat had no end to inventive positions that peaked Cosmo's arousals.

He was a gift for a man at this age. Cosmo couldn't live without him. He had never had a lover to equal him-and he had experienced a legion of men in his life.

But Cosmo was tired, oh so tired.

"I think I will go in and lie down for a bit," Cosmo said.

"Good idea," Emile said, not even looking up from the laptop, where his fingers were dancing over the keys. He was naked, his body berry brown from being naked most of the time under the strong Cypriot sun. Cosmo ached for him even though he had been repeatedly drained dry in the night by the young man's virility and demanding body.

He had a hard time finding sleep. The dull ache in the center of his chest just wouldn't go away, and now one of his arms felt numb. But at last he drifted off.

He had no idea how long he had slept. He only knew that he was waking to Emile's cock sliding inside him. He was on his side and Emile was embracing him from in back. The cock was sliding in and in and in.

"Emile. Not now, please. I'm so tired. So very tired." The pain was there again and he couldn't even feel his arm. It was pinned under his body. Probably asleep.

"And I'm randy and you looked so enticing lying here asleep. Gave me a raging hard-on."

"You've always got a hard-on. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

Emile was pounding him hard. "Shit, can't get deep enough in this position."

"Emile, please."

"You know you love it. You can't get enough of me." He pulled out, pushed Cosmo onto his back, grabbed his ankles and pulled him down to the foot of the bed, wishboned his legs, and thrust his cock deep inside. "There, that's better."

Cosmo moaned. "Emile." He was panting so hard, he couldn't speak further. But why wouldn't Emile believe he wanted-no, that he needed-to stop? Of course he loved being fucked by Emile. His body was betraying him, striving for fulfilled sex no matter what else was happening internally. But why wasn't Emile listening to what he was saying rather than being guided by his body's lust for sex? His mind raced over the previously nearly forty years. Had he ever done this to one of the young men he was procuring? Had he ever guessed wrong just because their bodies were in heat no matter what else was happening with them?

The image of one of the last ones recruited face to face, Rick, floated in front of his face. He'd said yes, but how genuine had that been? And Kurt not long before that. But he'd almost charged into the opportunity, so no sympathy was lost on him. Sympathy? Cosmo couldn't afford sympathy for any of the young men. Who had shown him sympathy when he was in their position? That would truly mark the beginning of the end. The tennis player? Hardly. The Chinese manufacturer who had bought him had sent him to tournaments. He hadn't done well in them, but that wasn't because he wasn't given his chance.

Devin. He had wanted to stay with Cosmo. And Cosmo had wanted him to stay too, but couldn't afford to let his guard down like that. If the young platinum blond had come to him with Emile did, would he still be with him? Perhaps. But, yes he should feel guilty about that-just some guilt, though. He had tried to save Devin by denying him to Amir Al-Shabat. How should he have known that the baron would be worse? Even there, he shouldn't have tried to intervene in what was inevitable. It never favored him to think too much on the men he sold the young male prostitutes to.

"What? Hard and deeper? Can do," Emile was saying. He laughed and picked up the pace, letting go of one leg so that he could grasp Cosmo's cock and stroke it. Cosmo started thrusting his pelvis, meeting the rhythm. "There, knew you wanted it."

The Greek ejaculated with a weak sigh.

"Got another one to give?" Emile said with a laugh. "Maybe something exotic." He turned Cosmo onto his belly, stuffed a pillow under his pelvis, pushed his legs apart, grabbed his wrists, and bowed the older man's chest up and back, taut, as he thrust his cock home again and began to pump hard, deep, and fast.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Cosmo muttered weakly. The pain in his chest was searing. He had gone hard too and could feel the cum rising inside him as the force of Emile's thrusts rubbed the bulb of his cock on the silkiness of the pillow under his pelvis.

Emile stroked hard, fast, deep, relentlessly.

With a little cry Cosmo ejaculated into the pillow, the cry caused not just by the orgasm but also because of the explosion of pain in his chest. His world blacked out.

Emile fucked on, not realizing for some time that he was fucking a dead man. When he suspected something was wrong, he released the older man's wrists, and the body just collapsed forward onto the bed.

"Cosmo? Are you OK?"

Emile sat on the bed beside the body for several minutes, not believing what had happened, waiting to wake up from the nightmare.

The sounds of the vehicle motors turning off out at the gates to the compound caught his attention and brought him back into the world. He stood and ran to one of the bedrooms at the front of the house. Black SUVs were parked in front of the compound gate, and men in police uniforms were getting out of them. They had submachine guns. He ran back to the main bedroom at the back of the house. There were police boats down in the cove. Armed policemen were swarming over The Apyko.

He only had a few minutes. They had anticipated something like this. Emile had acknowledged that there was a risk in putting the business up on the Internet-but he had reasoned with Cosmo that it was no more dangerous than the way Cosmo had been playing the game for years. Cosmo hadn't told him that the old operation was beginning to feel the pinch of discovery and apprehension.

Giving the slumped body of the Greek pimp one last, mournful, look, Emile raced over to the painting over a bureau in the bedroom and swung the frame aside. Such was the nature of the control he had asserted over Cosmo that not only did he know where the safe was, but he also knew what the combination was and how much cash was stashed in it with the various passports they'd bought under assumed names.

He also knew of the secret passage going from the basement to behind rocks outside of the compound walls. When Cosmo had returned to Cyprus-and to a city not far from the Famagusta beach resort that he'd had to flee in the Turkish invasion of the island and that was still held by the Turks-he'd been so nervous about security that he'd had the secret passageway built.

Grabbing cash and his laptop, Emile raced down the stairs to the basement, giving a shudder on the first floor at the sound of the pounding at the door and the smashing of the glass in windows by the butts of the policemen's submachine guns.

He'd have to redo the Web sites, of course, and change the banking arrangements, but he'd manage. Cosmo Eracules had managed from similar beginnings for nearly forty years. And he was just as clever as Cosmo had been.



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