Sex in the Sky

*”This is a true story, as told to me by an Army buddy. The names, places, etc. have been changed. “*

“Just keep your underwear on, son. Don’t take off any more than that, and you’ll stay out of trouble.” My father told me that when I was seven or eight, when he caught my cousin and me “playing with each other.” Never forgot that. Even in the years when I didn’t want to stay out of trouble.

I grew up in the early Sixties, my father in the Navy, stationed a long time in Japan, so I got into martial arts from a very early age. By the time we came back to the States, I was a teenaged blackbelt. My father retired and settled down near a large Midwestern city, and I attended a dojo there, developing my self-defense skills even more.

The US Army drafted me, and when the Army discovered my skills in self-defense, I found myself in training roles, teaching other guys the karate routines. I ended up as a trainer in a Basic Training fort on the west coast.

Something about me, a minor detail: my hair started to turn gray when I was, what, about 17. From the time I started shaving, I always looked older than I really was. When young, I thought gray in my hair was cool. I could buy beer for my teenaged friends.

I liked California, and I liked the Army. America was at peace at the time, and I ended up as a career soldier. I got married, settled down, looking forward to retirement from the Service.

Never could quite adjust to married life, though. Don’t know why. Seemed like something was missing—but I couldn’t say what. This wasn’t exactly it, but the sex was never what I thought it would be. Somehow I thought the sex act was supposed to be thrilling. And she didn’t seem to like it, which was not much of a compliment.

I think she thought of me as something “older and wiser” when she married me, and learning I was just a guy, not a father figure, she mentally washed her hands of me. Married life grew worse and worse, and finally we divorced.

I breathed a big sigh of relief. I was sick of marriage. Something itched at me—I couldn’t tell what—but being married to her didn’t scratch it. I settled down as a bachelor soldier and went on with life in the Army and my hand-to-hand combat training.

With a lot more time on my own, I began to think about things previously shoved to the back of my mind. One of those back-burner things was the sneaky little urge to look at the men in the shower rooms. Always needed to sneak just a little peek at the men in there—not that I was hot for them or anything—maybe just because it was “wrong.”

“But what’s wrong with seeing a naked man? Under the uniform, you’re a naked man, too. ” Yeah, that was right, but I kept a tight rein on myself—nothing more than an offhand look. Nothing but major trouble with anything more. “Just keep your underwear on, son. ”

But I had to admit it: as time went by, my jack-off fantasies (hey, no wife, I wasn’t into whores, what was I supposed to do?) for as much as they started off with a naked woman, almost always went back to the wrestling pits and the men, putting my hands on them, feeling their hard muscles, smelling their sweat, pitting my strength against theirs.

And the showers. Naked men. Cocks. Sweat. Balls. Hairy chests. With thoughts like those and my heart thumping, I could shoot a good gob almost across my barracks room.

Right after I was divorced, the post did not have space for me in the bachelor enlisted men’s quarters, and although my rank merited it, I agreed to a private room in the troop barracks. Why I did that, I wasn’t exactly sure, but I got a funny twinge in my balls when I thought of a barracks full of naked men lined up to shower in the mornings. I tried to tell myself that wasn’t the primary reason I agreed to a barracks room.

But I worried that it was. The more time went by, the more I made sure I went to the showers at the most crowded times and the more I noticed the men in their underwear.

Jockstraps. I loved jockstraps. White ribbed cloth over the guy’s package; thin, sexy straps hugging his buns, and that wide, stretchy waistband hugging his lower belly like grasping hands.

“Grasping hands? Where in hell did you get that? Are you developing into some sort of queer? ”

“No, no I’m not! ” Damn, I’ve got to get stuff like that out of my head! I’m not a homo. And god knows it would ruin my military career!

In my daily job in the hand-to-hand combat sand pits, through, showing throws, blows, and blocks to the trainees, I sometimes chuckled to myself. “If only these guys knew I’m flipping them so they land on their backs, skidding away from me, their legs up in the air — so I can look down the legs of their athletic trunks! ”

Jockstraps. My days consisted of tossing strong, healthy men into the sand and glancing at their jockstraps. I wasn’t queer. I just liked … underwear. And I kept mine on. Never without it. I was straight. “Keep your underwear on, son! ”

It was a living. Like I said, I kept a tight rein on myself (even before the divorce), and my days consisted only of teaching karate, cleaning my barracks room, drinking beer, going to the on-post movies … and jacking off nearly every day.

And one day I realized I wasn’t young anymore. After 20 years in the Army, I was 40. I could retire as a Master Sergeant if I wanted to. And my white hair had become legitimate. I was an “old guy.”

All I knew was the Army, though, so I stayed in past my 20, keeping my eyes open for anything “on the outside,” but not very encouraged. As an unmarried master sergeant, I could have demanded bachelor quarters, but what the hell, I liked the room in the troop barracks, and the Army liked to have seasoned sergeants in the barracks to maintain control over the young yahoos. And with my white hair and white mustache, many young soldiers looked up to me as some sort of senior statesman.

Then one day it happened: a training class in martial arts self-defense techniques featured the usual thing—one guy after another hitting his back in front of me with a brief glimpse of the white mesh of his jockstrap. But in one guy’s crotch, I saw a flash of red. “Red?? ” My first thought was, “blood! ” But it wasn’t blood.

A red jockstrap! The guy was wearing a bright red jockstrap! That was not regulation. The Army passed out an athletic uniform to every man—white T-shirt that read “ARMY,” a pair of black athletic trunks, a pair of athletic shoes, and a jockstrap.

At first I thought I would call the soldier on it, give him a scolding, and either send him back to the barracks to change into military uniform or make him do push-ups where we stood—but then, hell, it was hardly a mutinous act, and explaining exactly how I knew he wore a red jockstrap could turn the tables on me. I let it go.

Good looking guy, though. “Let’s see, this is Company F. Maybe I’ll drop in to the Company F barracks tomorrow morning while the men are showering. I could be there to ask their sergeant something about hand-to-hand scheduling. ”

“Nah, that’s more trouble than it’s worth. You don’t know what platoon he’s in, and you would probably look in the wrong shower room. ” Yeah, true. A flash of his red jockstrap was about all I would get from Johnny Trainee or whatever his name was.

At day’s end, I trudged back to my barracks. Another day in the Army. I went to the formation to hear the assignments for the following week. A few other sergeants were setting up a poker game for later on. Maybe I’d go, maybe not.

In the end, it was Not. I went back to my room, turned on the little TV, and sat back with a pizza. I was scribbling some notes on my clipboard, the 8:00 o’ clock movie had just started, and I heard a knock at the door. “Now what? ” I walked over and opened it.

There stood a young soldier in PT uniform—well built (over 200 pounds, at least six feet tall), probably a trainee. But he didn’t have that deer-in-the-headlights uncertainty of a new soldier. In fact, he slouched in the doorway with an unconcerned, almost smart-ass expression. I figured he was a clerk or something from the headquarters office. “What can I do for you?’

“Captain Artol wants to get a record of the hand-to-hand training for Company F today.” He had a deep voice. I like guys with a good, bass sound. Big balls.

“No, you’re not thinking about balls, asshole! Get military! ”

“I gave it to your sergeant,” I said. “I don’t remember his name.” I liked this guy. His face was familiar. Company F? I probably saw him in the hand-to-hand pits.

“Sorry, Sarge, when everybody got back to the company, they couldn’t find it. He asked me to get another one from you.”

“Shit. That means I’ve got to recopy all those scores onto another report sheet. ” “All right,” I grumbled, “c’mon in.”

He walked in behind me, walking very close. I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck. “You might as well sit down and watch TV,” I said. “This will take me a few minutes.” I sat down at my desk on the other side of the room, and the GI sat on the bunk behind me to watch TV. I got my paperwork out and started copying down names and scores on my clipboard.

After a few minutes: “Sarge, you mind if I take my shirt off? It’s damned hot in here.”

“That’s odd. I don’t think it’s hot at all. Maybe he’s from northern Minnesota or Maine or something—not used to California’s climate. ” “I don’t mind. Make yourself comfortable.”

I glanced back. The GI stood and stripped off his T-shirt and dropped it on my bunk. Nice chest. Hairless. “Wonder if he shaves it. ” Nice pecs. Six-pack belly. “This guy works out with weights. ” I glanced down and spotted a slice of his underwear over the waistband of his shorts. “I’ll be` damned! Red! The guy with the red jockstrap! ”

“Where you from, soldier?” I made my voice friendly.

“Arizona. Town south of Phoenix.”

“Ah-hah, he can’t be uncomfortable in this heat. ” I got a very powerful feeling in my guts, down around my balls, and my cock started to harden. “Don’t be an asshole! The kid’s probably sick and is just feeling warm, got a fever or something. ” “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Barthan, Sarge. Darryl Barthan.”

I don’t know why, but for some reason I thought that was a sexy name. In my frame of mind, though, I would’ve thought Oglethorpe Mudflap was a sexy name.

Barthan sat down again, and I turned back to my desk, scribbling away, head down, trying not to think of the half-naked man behind me, then I heard my bunk springs as he got up again. Barthan was no longer sitting watching TV. I didn’t look up. I kept working. As horny as I was, I was also a little nervous. Barthan had no idea what was going through my head, and I knew what the Army did to men caught in “conduct unbecoming a soldier.”

“Sarge.” Soft voice, very deep…and husky…and somehow “commanding! ” Somehow a summons. I stood up and bumped against him . He stood behind me very close. Very close.

We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. His burned into me, powerful, deep brown, hypnotic. Knowing. Commanding. He turned toward me, still very, very close. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a nervous clearing of my throat. I dropped my clipboard, and almost accidentally, our arms reached out, and we touched each other.

And his face moved closer.

“Ohmigod! ”

His lips came forward, and although my mind urged me to pull back, I was numb. “DO SOMETHING, ASSHOLE! HIT HIM!! ” I stumbled back, but he followed me. I fell back against my bunk, and still he followed me. I raised my hand, weakly, and he seized it in his own. Then I felt his lips.

“Oh, my God, you’re kissing a MAN!! ”

I was thunderstruck. Dumbfounded. But I couldn’t struggle away as another man’s lips moved caressingly over mine, his tongue dabbing at my lips. Against my will, my mouth opened, his tongue thrust into me, and my own tongue slithered out to meet it.

Shivers and goose-bumps spread all over me, and the bulge between my legs throbbed, a demanding force. The hands I raised to push him away instead reached out to grasp Barthan’s shoulders, and he put his arms around me.

I finally managed to pull back from the kiss, but Barthan kept after me, painting my face with slow, sensual kisses and soft licks here and there–my eyelids, my cheekbones, my forehead. And—”oh, god”–I couldn’t fight him. Again I surrendered, and once more my mouth connected to the furnace behind his lips. I was drunk. Dizzy from inhaling the musky smell of a sweaty man.

His hands tugged at my T-shirt…and I let him pull it up. He released me from the kiss. “It’s hot in here for you, too, Sarge. Let’s get comfortable.” And he pulled my shirt off over my head.

I fell back, lightheaded, momentarily seeing stars. “Motherfuck! I just kissed a man! ” He reached down to grab the waistband of my shorts. “C’mon, Sarge,” he said in that low, seductive voice, “get naked for me. You know you want to.”

“What? What in hell is he talking about?? Why in hell would I want to get naked for him?? ” But I didn’t struggle. I let him pull down my shorts.

As he pulled them down over my hips, and with them my jockstrap, I sucked in my breath. “For hell’s sake, wait! Don’t!! You’re going to get naked for him?? What’s happening? What is HAPPENING TO ME?? I can’t let this dumb sonofabitch take my pants down! My underwear! Gotta keep my underwear on!! ”

Just keep your underwear on, son, and you’ll stay out of trouble!” My father’s words roared in my brain!

But he pulled them down and off. Both. My shorts and my jockstrap at once. My dong stuck out like a salami.

As he pulled them down over my shoes, my body burned hotter than the desert outside. “You dumb old bastard, you’re naked, wearing nothing but sneakers and your dogtags. And look at you! You’re standing before a guy who still has his pants on! ” Suddenly I was scared. If Barthan turned out to be an asshole, he could get me thrown out of the Army. Maybe 20 years in the stockade. “Oh my god, what has come over me?? ”

But before I could make a move or even think what to do, his voice murmurred in my ear. “You liked my red jockstrap, didn’t you, Sarge. I saw you staring at me out in the wrestling pits.” I looked into his eyes. “He’s got me. He knows me. Damn, this young kid has the straight flush here, and I’m playing with a pair of twos. ”

“I’d like to see you in a red jockstrap, Sarge,” The Voice went on. “I brought one over with me.” With that, he pulled a wadded-up ball of red webbing out of his pocket. “Put it on,” he said. It was a command. “You’ll like it.”

“Hey, yeah, that’s it! I’ll get some underwear on again! I’ll be safe!! ” I put my feet through the straps and pulled it up.

“Ohmigod!! ” The red pouch slid up over my cock and balls with a wet, schlucking sound, slathering my groin with some warm, mucky slime. Astonished, I looked over at him. “Yeah, Sarge,” he grinned, “I jacked off in it before I came over here. How’s the feel of my sperm around your balls?”

“His sperm! I’ve got his jizz over my cock and balls! ” And suddenly it was like molten lava. “From the furnace of his scrotum! ” It was Tabasco sauce over my cock and balls, and I was on fire between my legs. “Hot,” I croaked.

He reached over and hefted my balls through the mesh. My cock was an iron bar bulging out the pouch. I had never been so horny. One stroke on my dick, and I would have cummed all over myself.

“Get a grip on yourself!! This has got to end! It’s not too late! ”

But while he groped my crotch, giving me an almost alcoholic buzz of lust, with his other hand, he yanked down his own shorts and jock.

My jaw dropped as a bare-ass naked young man, Army-hardened, healthy, and aroused stood before me. What a sight. Big pecs. Big, brown nipples. Six-pack belly. Innie belly-button.

And he’d stripped off his underwear. A magnificent cock twitched proudly between his legs, its uncut head begging to slide out from its hood. My mouth watered.

Barthan looked at me with a strange expression. Waiting.

“He’s waiting? For what? Am I supposed to do something here? What does he want? “–Barthan dropped his hands to his hips and thrust his groin forward. And suddenly I knew.

My heart pounding and breathing harder, with every ounce of strength I had, I forced myself to say, “That’s enough, Private. Put your clothes back on and leave my room!” I stood watching him, trembling. And I could actually feel my cock spurting out pre-cum.

But he didn’t move. He just grinned at me, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering all over that hot, handsome, beckoning young body. When I noticed him staring at my crotch, though, I glanced down to see for myself and saw a long, silvery string of pre-cum actually hanging from the bulge in the jism-slimed red jockstrap I had put on. “Oh, shit! ”

“C’mon, Sarge,” he said softly. “You’re standing there drooling pre-cum through another man’s jockstrap. The door’s locked behind us. You know you want to.”

“What? He locked the door? Ah, when I sat at the desk. God, look at that cock! I see his pre-cum, too. ”

On fire with lust, drunk like never before, I dropped to my knees. I reached up and touched the underside of the big cock, and he moved it closer, inches from my face, grown to full size. “God, how big IS that? Nine? Ten? Eleven? ”

His voice: “Go ahead, Sarge, it’s ok.”

“No, God, I can’t do this!! ” My mouth parted a little, and my tongue wet my lips. “Sargeant,” he said more firmly,” Do it!” The Command Tone in his voice broke through my hesitation. Staring at the slight drop of pre-cum on the tip, glistening and beckoning to me, I stuck out my tongue and tasted it then wriggled under his foreskin, explored his cockhead, slipping into his piss hole, exploring, tasting, seeking more pre-cum.

I watched in awe as his big cockhead slid slowly and seductively out of the hood of his foreskin as his arousal grew. Then he grabbed my head and guided it into his crotch and onto his cock. My jaws wowed out huge as the big thing entered my mouth. He forced in about four inches, but when I gagged slightly, he pulled my head back.

“Relax, Sarge,” he crooned, “you know you want to suck this big cock all the way down your throat, and I’ll show you how.”

He pushed forward again, and I took his cock into my mouth, giving in to the experience, trying to relax. The bulging cockhead rubbed against the roof of my mouth. My lips tightened around it, a donut of my skin, and he stretched the hole wider.

“Yeahhh, Sarge,” he said in that low voice. “You like cock, don’t you?” Lust drunk, I shook my head up and down as much as I could, and he stuffed more of it into my mouth. “You want to suck my cock, Sarge? If you do, you gotta swallow my cum.”

“Marianna, no,” Nando said. “We had our time once and you chose to leave and marry another. We were not right for each other then and I am betrothed now.” As he spoke Nando determined that he would fight for Will. Whatever it would take, if he had to beg, he would do it. Nothing was more important than the love he had for the younger man. He bitterly regretted his words and actions, realising he had not given Will a fair chance to explain. In his heart he knew there had to be a reason, neither Will nor the man he had known since childhood would betray him so callously. Berating himself once again for his over zealous temper he stood to move to their horses.

“Nando,” Marianna said moving to intercept him. “Are you so sure you feel nothing for me?” she persisted. “You and I may not have been right before I married my poor Miguel, God rest his soul, but now…”

“Now I have Will,” Nando said firmly. “I have not been as considerate of my Intended as I should have been. I have to return and make things right between us. You are a good friend, Marianna. I thank you for caring for me and I care deeply for you in return, but it is Will that I love.”

Marianna shook with barely restrained fury. ‘Care’ she thought angrily. It had looked as though fate was smiling on her. Now her hopes were unravelling. Her face, unseen by Nando, was contorted with hate and rage. The beautiful features were now hard and ugly. Then, a cold, malicious smile formed. There were other methods at her disposal to turn Nando’s desire towards her. ‘And I am unafraid to use them’ she thought as she trailed after Nando back to des Caballos.

The hacienda was eerily silent as Nando and Marianna arrived back. Already the sun was dipping in the sky, turning the desert sand from gold to red in the shimmering haze. Nando moved to the large living room to find his father sitting alone. The older man’s gaze pinned Nando to the spot where he stood. He had seen such anger in his father’s eyes only on very few occasions.

Not breaking eye contact with Nando, Don Carlos addressed Marianna.

“If you go to the kitchen, Marianna, they will prepare a tray of food for you to be brought to your room. My son and I are overdue a talk.”

“Si, Don Carlos,” Marianna said meekly. Scowling she turned to obey.

“Sit, Fernando,” Don Carlos indicated a chair opposite him.

“Where is Will?” Nando asked. The use of his full name had sent shivers down his spine and he was starting to worry.

“Do you care?” Don Carlos asked and pressed forward before Nando could reply. “You all but told the boy he was Roberto’s.”

“I am sorry, Papa,” Nando said his voice anguished. “I was stupid and angry and I lashed out. I love Will. He completes me. I want to beg his forgiveness and let him explain…”

“He saw you kissing Marianna,” Don Carlos said coldly. “The man who was supposed to be faithful to him had preferred the company of another all evening. It broke his heart. Roberto found him crying and between us we reassured him of your devotion and left him to sleep. He could never be Roberto’s. Firstly because it is you he loves, with all his heart and soul, although presently he does not think his love returned and secondly because Roberto is already a married man. To me, since two years following the death of your mother. He would not let me speak of our marriage. He worried my children would think I had married too soon. Then that you would have difficulty accepting I had chosen a man and finally he feared that your own marriages could be jeopardised if it were known I had taken my manservant as my Spouse. And because I could not refuse him, given his worry for my children, our marriage has remained the most tightly kept secret in this hacienda. That is why Will could sleep in Roberto’s bed, because Roberto sleeps in mine. I asked the boy to say nothing as I wanted to tell you myself of Roberto and me. He honoured that promise to me even when you challenged him.”

“What have I done?” Nando asked his voice breaking. “Where is he?”

“In your room. Roberto is with him. We found him unconscious. He had barely eaten since arriving and the emotional strain of your leaving him was too much” Don Carlos’ gaze softened. “As you love him, go to him, Nando. Tell him, make it right again between you.”

The younger Rojan needed no further encouragement. He flew upstairs and hesitantly tapped on his own bedroom door before entering. Will lay in their bed, his face pale and drawn, with a soul-deep sadness etched on the beloved visage. Reading at his bedside sat Roberto, whose dark eyes glittered with undisguised anger at him. Nando realised that in all the years he had known the older man, he had never seen such anger directed against him or any of the family. He felt deeply ashamed that he had been the one to bring such looks to both of the men that he loved in such different ways.

“The words seem insufficient,” he said huskily. “But I offer you my most profound apologies, Roberto.” Moving swiftly to the unoccupied side of their bed, Nando dropped to his knees and buried his face against Will’s body. “I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry,” he said brokenly. “I love you with all my heart. Don’t leave me. Please forgive me, Will. I love you, I love you.” Unable to speak further, Nando wept silently as his hands gripped tightly at Will’s slender body.

Roberto stood silently and left unnoticed by either younger man. As he moved to the door he could see Will, whose own tears were now falling, pulling at Nando’s body until they lay together on the bed. As the door closed, he saw each man wrap around their mate and Will’s soft voice reassuring Nando of his devotion.

Nando did not know how much time had elapsed since he and Will had cried themselves to sleep, each reaffirming their love for the other. He had vowed not to allow his temper to make him blind and deaf to Will’s needs, who in turn had promised not to bottle up his worries. Both men coming to understand that to make their relationship stand the test of time, there needed to be love, trust and communication. He felt the motion that told him Will was also awakening. He moved the smaller man to be able to gaze into the beloved face.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing Will’s soft lips. It felt so good, so right to have this beautiful young man in his arms, in his life.

“Love you, Nando,” Will whispered back.

Nando groaned mutedly as a slender hand stroked at the hair on his chest before caressing a thick, dark nub. This time his kiss was less chaste and more passionate. He moved over the slighter form, keeping enough distance for Will’s hand to continue its erotic ministrations. The next kiss was deep, wet and demanding. Will’s mouth opened to Nando’s tongue. The slick muscle invaded the warm, wet cavern with proprietary ease, tasting every nuance of the man in Nando’s arms. It slid over teeth, traced the ridges of the roof of Will’s mouth and began a slow, sinuous dance with Will’s eager organ.

Panting the two men broke apart for air. Will’s mouth latched onto Nando’s throat and sucked. Nando growled approvingly. It was rare that Will marked his mate. However, Nando wanted to be marked as much as he wanted in his turn to mark the soft, pale body beneath him. He wanted everyone to know they belonged to each other. He rolled to his back as Will continued his oral assault and began to suck at one thick teat then the other, a hand sliding between Nando’s powerful thighs to caress the thick flesh standing proudly forth.

Nando swiftly reversed the positions. He moved to ensure the lamp now gave adequate light to see by. Hovering over the smaller man, who gazed with such love and trust in his darkening turquoise eyes, Nando had to swallow to be able to speak.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” he husked.

He positioned himself between Will’s outspread thighs. He kissed from Will’s mouth to his collarbone. His tongue laved the skin before he bit down on Will’s throat to leave his own mark. He heard the soft whimper and felt the instinctive rocking of Will’s hips. Purring, he threw the bedding aside and without preamble, swallowed Will’s erection to the root, inhaling the musk from the golden curls. Will was defenceless against the rapacious sucking of Nando’s mouth, and as Nando held his hips down, the younger man’s essence flowed into Nando’s demanding maw. The bigger man sucked and swallowed, finally releasing his prize and licking around Will’s groin, ensuring nothing was missed. He knelt up looking down with satisfaction at the replete young man sprawled so wantonly and so delectably below him.

Retrieving one of his pillows, he rolled Will pliantly to lie with it supporting his hips, his smooth limbs spread wide. He gazed with awe at the blond who lay so trustingly, waiting for his attentions. His eyes roved possessively, passionately at the expanse of pale skin that was his for the taking. His eyes were drawn to the perfect globes and the dark crevice between. The tiny portal was still shadowed, but Nando knew instinctively where it lay. Waiting. Anticipating. His mouth moved between Will’s shoulder blades, nipping and licking, before moving slowly down the younger man’s back. As he reached the creamy mounds, he could see the small thrusting movements of Will’s hips. He reached beneath Will’s undulating body. Will was already refilling, hardening in response to Nando’s touches. Nando growled appreciatively. He placed a large hand on each nether cheek, pausing to register the darkness of his skin against the almost marble perfection of Will’s, before pulling them apart.

Nando eyes devoured the small pink entrance. Under his intense stare it flexed, silently inviting Nando closer. He licked up and down the newly exposed skin and watched as the portal fluttered. His tongue slid over the tight rosette, circling slowly, relishing the intimacy of the act. As the flower pulsed, Nando thrust his tongue inside relishing the mewls of pleasure from his mate. He drove his tongue in again and again, tasting and teasing, delving and delighting, becoming more and more aroused by the scent and sounds of his young lover. Nando could feel Will’s efforts to push back on the moist invader and he reached for their oil. Coating his fingers, he pushed two inside the loosened opening as he continued to lick and nibble at the responsive flesh. They slid inside Will without resistance and Nando began to stroke his mate’s hidden jewel. He grinned savagely at the impassioned wail from the trembling body. Raising Will to his hands and knees, Nando thrust three fingers inside him as he reached to fondle Will’s resurgent erection that dripped its need. Will panted and gasped and Nando moved to stroke the sweat-sheened back as he coated his long, hard length.

“Please, please, please,” Will chanted softly pushing back to find his mate.

Nando gripped Will’s hip to hold him in place. Both men moaned as the older man’s thickness sought entrance to the slender body. Slowly, Nando breached Will’s defences and he impaled the smaller man on his rock hard shaft. He pulled the blond to sit astride his thighs, burying himself that bit deeper as Will groaned pleasurably at being so fully filled. For a moment, as he became accustomed to the welcome invasion, Nando plucked at Will’s nipples tugging and rolling them till they were diamond hard peaks. He nibbled at the soft throat as his hands roamed imperiously over Will’s chest before stroking the rosy erection with one hand and cupping and squeezing the hairless sac with the other. As Will writhed on his hardness, the Rojan began to flex his strong haunches. He effortlessly dragged over Will’s sweet spot with every movement causing the younger man to gasp, pant and thrash. Nando stroked his beloved firmly into time with his thrusts, his other hand wrapped tight around the trim waist, lifting him up and pulling him down to get as deep inside his young lover as possible. Will had one hand on Nando’s hip, the other reached behind to a strong shoulder, the blond helpless in his mate’s intimate embrace.

Nando growl was low and feral as he felt the trembles assailing the slender blond. He could feel the tight, slick sheath begin to ripple around his aching hardness and he knew Will’s release was imminent. Will’s breath was coming in moist gasps against his sweat damp neck as his lover’s head lolled against him for support.

“So good, Nando,” Will’s voice was barley a whisper. “Feels so good with you inside me. Need you so much, love you so much.”

“So tight, so hot, mi amore. Love being inside you, love you. Come for me, my sweet. I can feel how close you are. Let it go, precious.”

Will wailed Nando’s name as a creamy fountain pulsed from him, coating Nando’s hand, his own stomach and chest as well as the bed. He convulsed in Nando’s embrace from the intense release.

Nando grunted as his erection was squeezed hard by Will’s internal muscles. As Will slumped spent, Nando lowered them to the bed and as Will’s channel continued to spasm in the aftermath of his orgasm, Nando pounded into the boneless body. On the fourth thrust he erupted. His seed flowed deep into Will’s rippling sheath, the small movements helping to milk him dry. His roar of completion was muffled by biting down on Will’s shoulder, his hips pistoning hard and fast, as he emptied himself into the willing body beneath him. His hips continued to jerk spasmodically for several moments, even when he was fully spent. He kissed the nape of Will’s neck, licking at the beads of sweat to a soft sound of appreciation. He thrust desultorily into Will, not yet prepared to sever the intimate connection. Although he could feel himself softening, his size meant he could still stay in Will for a few more precious moments. Finally his member slid from its haven to a moan of loss from both men. Nando gathered the exhausted blond to his chest, pillowing Will on his shoulder and smiling at the contented sigh.

“Love you,” Will breathed holding tightly to Nando.

“And I you,” Nando affirmed nuzzling at Will’s temple.

The tenseness and insecurities of the past days melted away in the warmth of their shared love. Nesting together, the two men slipped into restful sleep.

The next morning Marianna was greeted by the sight of Nando and Will sitting in the large chair that Don Carlos had been in the night before. Will was cradled to Nando’s chest and the two men were smiling contentedly. Inwardly she fumed at the scene. That Nando would waste his time and affections on the blond strumpet had her skin crawling with revulsion. She ensured her features were schooled into one of neutrality. At present, it was too much to try and look pleased.

“Buenos dias, Nando,” she said as pleasantly as possible.

“Marianna, good morning,” Nando smiled. He failed to notice that her greeting did not include Will, too enamoured at having his lover held close in his arms.

“Good morning, Marianna,” Will said quietly, smiling shyly wanting the woman to like him just a little for Nando’s sake.

“Morning,” she nodded briefly, unable to ignore him.

“Papa and I are going for a short ride this morning, Pequeno,” Nando told Will, nuzzling at the silken gold tumbling past Will’s slender shoulders. “Perhaps you could show Marianna the new horses you were admiring yesterday?” Nando threw a glance to where Marianna now sat at the dining table.

“Of course, Nando,” Will readily agreed. He could easily chat for some time over the magnificent new stallions and the other horses of the ranch.

“That would be fine,” Marianna concurred through clenched teeth. Already her mind was working on what she could do to get her plans back on course. One thing was uppermost. ‘It’s not as though it will be the first time’ she thought to herself. As Will disentangled himself from Nando’s arms, Marianna’s callous eyes carefully appraised the small, slight form, ‘nor too difficult’. She smiled a false, brittle smile that neither man noticed.

“Good morning, boys, good morning, Marianna,” Don Carlos grinned widely as he entered and was greeted. He and Roberto had heard Nando and Will reaffirming their love and the older man was overjoyed to see the two young men clearly showing their shared affection. This was how it should be. He gave a genuine smile to Marianna, whose own seemed forced in return. ‘Too bad,’ he thought. ‘You are not what I would want for my son.’

Breakfast finished, Nando and Don Carlos rode out together and as they disappeared Will turned to lead Marianna to the corrals. However, the dark haired woman had other ideas.

“Let us go for our own ride,” she suggested pulling Will to the stable. “I would much rather ride horses than look at them.”

“But…” Will began.

“You ride, I ride,” she said. “Sin problema.”

Will reluctantly readied his horse as Marianna swung into her saddle. As he followed her out of the stable and away from the ranch, Marco went racing to find Roberto. He had kept quiet, watching the woman and Will as ordered by Roberto. He had seen the look on Marianna’s face as Will had saddled his horse and it had the young stable boy terrified.

Less than half an hour after they had left Des Caballos, Don Carlos and Nando rode frantically back, a third man in their wake.

“Marco, where is Will?” the older man asked.

“He rode out with Senora Marianna,” the dark haired boy replied. “Roberto went after them. Her look, Don Carlos, it was pure evil.”

“I can track them,” the stranger offered.

“As can I,” Nando affirmed.

A moment later they were outside the ranch gates and the three men rode away at a punishing pace, leaving Marco to stare at their disappearing forms.

“Surrender to me,” Roberto’s voice cajoled. “There is no need for this to go further.”

He stood; his gun extended pointing directly at a terrified Will Green.

“There is every need,” Marianna hissed. She stood a couple of feet behind Will, her own gun pointing at Will’s back. “Throw your gun away, Roberto. You will not shoot. You will not risk hitting the boy. I, on the other hand, have no such reservations. If you give up your gun, I will simply ride away and leave the boy unhurt.”

Roberto could hear the lie in her voice. If he dropped his gun, both he and Will were dead. Unfortunately, she was right about his not shooting. There was no way to hit her without hitting Will first.

“I do not believe you, Marianna,” he replied coldly. “If you hurt Will, I will kill you and I do not think you want to die.

Marianna gave a low snarl. There had to be a way. “I have Roberto in my sights, Gringo,” she hissed malevolently at Will. “Start moving backwards or I will kill him.”

Will was shaking with fear, both for himself and for Roberto. He loved the older man and was unable to know whether Marianna spoke the truth or not. He took a hesitant step backwards.

“Stay still, Will,” Roberto’s voice was calm. “She cannot hurt me, only you. Stand where you are.”

“You are a fool, Roberto,” Marianna sneered.

There was a sudden flurry of activity and a dark figure darted from the cover of rocks at Marianna’s left to throw Will to the ground, blanketing the slighter figure. At the same time an order was barked from behind the enraged woman.

“Federal Marshall, drop your weapon!”

“No!” Marianna shrieked and brought her gun to bear on the huddled figures.

Two gunshots rang and Marianna’s body jerked and contorted before crumpling to the floor.

“Nando, Will,” Don Carlos shouted frantically as he was held from running forward by the Marshall at his side.

“We’re fine, Papa,” said Nando as he moved from his protective stance over his mate. He helped Will to stand and pulled the trembling boy to his chest where he would not see Marianna’s body. “Thank you, Roberto,” he added as the larger man came to enfold both younger men in a tight embrace, joined seconds later by Don Carlos.