Renegade 28

by Lou Cameron

  There was nobody even taking a crap in the coed john on the second floor. As he crossed the north-south corridor, he saw Gaston down at the far end kneeling in the doorway of his own room, futzing with the busted lock. He silently signaled his intent to move on around the corner to the big dame’s suite and did so. The door marked “207” covered this wing’s corridor nicely, he noticed.-Anyone meaning to rush it would have to just rush it head on. He was out to comfort, not assassinate, the princess, so he simply knocked.

  She must have thought he was Room Service, because she called out, “Entrada” from the other side as he heard her bedsprings add that she was rising to the occasion. He took the knob in his free hand and twisted. The knob turned swell. It didn’t seem to be connected to anything. He grinned as the door opened almost by itself. Doors did that when they had their latches broken off inside.

  It was dark in Princess Manukai’s suite. It was just as well. The huge girl was stark-naked, and it wasn’t that dark. She said, “Oh, it’s you.”

  He asked, “Who were you expecting?” and she said, “Nobody. I thought maybe you were one of the hotel help. Come on in.”

  He ducked inside and closed the door after him. There was still enough light to make out her darker nipples and fetching V of pubic hair as he asked conversationally, “Do you always greet Room Service in the buff, Doll?”

  She sighed and said, “I wasn’t thinking. I’m too upset; and back home, of course, we royal personages don’t have to worry about such things. Our servants know better than to look at our tapu parts. I’d offer you a drink if I hadn’t finished the bottle. I’ve been trying to get drunk. It isn’t easy when one has a lot on her mind.”

  He was too polite to observe that his own considerable body mass gave him a pretty good capacity for booze, since she was even bigger, albeit built sissier. He said, “You can stop worrying, a little at least. We talked it over and we’re in. We’re probably nuts, too. But we can worry about that part later.”

  The princess gasped with delight, grabbed him in a big, brown bear hug, and kissed him passionately—almost too passionately. He wasn’t used to dames with such big tongues, and even if he had been, who really wanted his tonsils licked? He felt even sillier when the big dame scooped him up in her strong arms and proceeded to carry him over to the bed. He gasped, “Hey, take it easy! Let me get used to this idea before…” And then he laughed like hell as he realized what he was saying and who usually said it to him! He laughed even harder when the princess lowered him gently to the mattress and said soothingly, “Just relax, darling. I won’t hurt you.”

  She didn’t. But he still felt oddly nervous, excited, and silly as she proceeded to undress him while feeling him up. He was gaining interesting insights that would doubtless come in handy the next time he was in the usual dominant position with somebody smaller than him. But he still didn’t feel really she-male, so he started feeling her up as well.

  There certainly was an awful lot to feel, and he still felt like he was in more trouble than he might have planned that evening. But there was no doubt she was all dame, So once she had his clothes off, he attempted to reclaim his masculinity by rolling her on her broad brown back. She let him. She probably wanted to feel female. Obviously he’d have never in this world been able to force the giant princess into any position she wasn’t interested in being in!

  But once he was above her in the dim light, with her huge tawny thighs open in welcome, the situation seemed more normal. She even sighed like a shy young thing as he entered her. Captain Gringo had been told by more than one woman he was hung like a horse. He felt like a dirty schoolboy of, say, twelve trying to screw Teacher after school, until the big broad’s gaping love maw, proportioned to the rest of her, clamped down politely—almost too tightly for comfort—and all hell broke loose.

  It wasn’t clear, as she lapsed into crooning Kanaka, whether they were committing “Nukinuki!” or “Poipoi!” or just trying to wreck the joint while Captain Gringo held on for dear life. Princess Manukai, in turn, held on to his erection with her astounding vaginal muscles as in every other way she tried to throw him at the ceiling with fantastic gyrations of her huge, excited pelvis.

  She moaned, “Oh, you’re so big, the way I like my men!” as she bounced him atop her like a confused rag doll. It helped when she hugged him, topside, against her big brown breasts, either one of which would have been enough for Miss Lillian Russell, according to the Police Gazette. He came in her almost at once, or at any rate as soon as he got over his first fright. She seemed not to notice as she went on bumping and grinding or maybe doing the hula-hula on her back. But she must have noticed she was doing all the work now. So she rolled him over on his own back, without a word of warning; and the next thing Captain Gringo knew, he was being treated as a mere sex object. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. But there wasn’t much he could do about it as the big brute vented her lust atop him. At least it didn’t hurt, and, yeah, some of the things dames had said to him made more sense to him now.

  Like most men, particularly men raised in the Victorian tradition, Captain Gringo had been led to feel that a lot of male-female notions were simply the nature of the critters. So like most men, he tended to be confused as well as annoyed by the sudden mood changes of the sex he now realized literally was the weaker sex, most of the time.

  Since men were expected to make the first pass and take the lead from that point forward, the male lover had, from -first eye contact, an unconscious sense of control and actual physical safety. Without thinking, let alone worrying about it, a man at all interested in any woman—any woman smaller than Princess Manukai at any rate—was always in the position to call the whole thing off if the party started to get too rich for his blood.

  But as he now observed philosophically, from his new perspective, the boldest sex-crazed female had a lot to worry about from the moment she first fluttered her fan. For once the ball was in the air, she was up against someone bigger and stronger who might not know how to tickle her fancy but was going to tickle it anyway if she didn’t watch her step. So even when a lady wanted to get laid, as he’d wanted to when he knocked demurely on this one’s door, the loss of control involved was a little scary no matter how good it felt.

  But he was starting to relax and feel good indeed as Princess Manukai kept screwing hell out of him. Her legs were so long she had one knee folded down over either side of the mattress, big bare feet on the floor, as she moved her wide-open crotch skillfully up and down the full length of his turgid shaft. Her upper body was braced on her elbows to politely keep most of her weight off his chest, save for her delightfully dangling nipples. This time, when he ejaculated up into her, she felt it and sighed, “Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you’re not a single-shot sissy, Dick. Most of you pink people seem to be, for some reason.”

  He moved his still semi-inspired love machinery inside her teasingly as he asked, in the same conversational tone, “Have you done this with lots of white guys, Doll Box?”

  She said, “Not really. I had a missionary back on the island when I was fourteen. He drowned himself later, for some reason. But I hardly got to screw anyone until my father sent me to the States for my education. Our commoners get to screw all the time, but we royal personages just have so many tapu restrictions on who we can even eat with that it’s just not fair!”

  “You mean you don’t get in on all those native greetings when the fleet’s in?”

  “Tangaroa, no! We’re not supposed to let the commoners even watch us fuck each other! The first thing I intend to do, once I’m queen, will be to change some of our sillier customs. Your missionaries are awfully silly. But Tapu can be carried too far, too. I’m not even sure what the kahunas will say when I tell them I’ve been fucking you pink boys on the mainland. There are so many rules, one just can’t keep track.”

  “Jesus, you’re asking me to join a Polynesian navy, and you say I might have just screwed out of bounds, Princess?’ ’ She started screwin
g him indeed, breathing a little faster, as she replied calmly enough, considering, “Don’t call us Polynesians. We’re Kanakas. And I just said I don’t know if this nice little cock of yours is tapu or not. The kahunas, or high priests, say it’s death for a commoner to even touch a member of the royal clan. But they never told me, when my father sent me to Vassar, it was tapu to fuck anyone who wasn’t a common Kanaka, see?”

  He chuckled fondly up at her and said, “I sure do. It would have been dumb of you to ask your religious leaders before you got off that frustrating island of yours, wouldn’t it?”

  She didn’t answer. She was resting her big breasts harder against his chest and panting with renewed passion as she moved her big brown derriere faster. It felt good to him, too. But, Jesus, wasn’t the brute ever going to stop and let a girl get her breath back, for Pete’s sake?

  He didn’t get to find out. They both heard Gaston’s knock on the unlocked and indeed unlockable door. Captain Gringo told her, “Hold it. That’s Gaston, and he wouldn’t be bothering us just for the hell of it.”

  If she heard him, she didn’t care. She was moaning in protracted orgasm as she tried to drive his ass through the bedsprings with her powerful pubic thrusts. Out in the hall, Gaston had heard enough to take it as his entrance cue. So he came on in to stand there with a doorknob in one hand, bemused, while the couple on the bed went on making love. Or at least as Princess Manukai kept pounding, hard. Captain Gringo looked up at Gaston, red-faced, and said, “Goddamn it, Gaston …”

  The little Frenchman drew up a hotel chair and sat down calmly, saying, “This is important. You children go ahead and finish coming. I’ll find a book to read or something, hein?”

  Captain Gringo laughed despite himself and told the princess, “No shit, Doll. Can’t we stop a minute?” Apparently they couldn’t. Captain Gringo sighed and said to Gaston, “Forgive me for not rising. May I present Her Highness, Princess Manukai of Konakona?”

  Gaston said, “Enchanté, M’selle. Dick, have a look at the disgusting bowels of your door lock.”

  “How, for God’s sake? Jesus, Manukai, haven’t you had enough for now?”

  Gaston chuckled and said, “Obviously she has not, you fortunate devil. Perhaps I can simply explain the matter to you. One hopes he has your attention in part, at least, since time may be of the essence. I see, now, why you said our adorable princess here looked strong enough to you to account for the mangling of steel with her dainty bare hands. But I was right. Some species of sneak had replaced vital parts with wood. Packing-case white pine, I would judge from the look of it. Naturally, painted gray and rubbed down with graphite to look like the original metal. My own sweet door was fixed the same way. Since I only have human strength, I would not have noticed had not I really put my back into twisting the knob just now.” Captain Gringo frowned and said, “Jesus, you mean … Cut it out, Manukai!”

  Gaston nodded soberly and replied, “I mean the doors to all three of our suites had been doctored to work .normally under normal pressures, to give us all a false sense of security as we locked ourselves in for the night. They probably mean to hit around four a.m. That is the usual time for such events, non?”

  This time neither the princess nor Captain Gringo answered. For in her climactic pounding, Manukai had managed to snap something vital holding the bedsprings together and, still coming, crash the whole works to the floor with a thud that shook the whole room!

  Gaston laughed—rather rudely, Captain Gringo thought. Then he laughed too as the big brown naked Kanaka girl sat up like a baby in its playpen, still on him, to look around sort of bewildered and ask, “Oh dear, what happened?”

  Captain Gringo said, “I wish you’d either slide off my dong or move some more, Honey. Forget what I just said. We may have to make some other good moves right now. Did you hear anything Gaston was just saying?”

  She answered, “Who’s Gaston?” And then, spotting the sardonic little Frenchman seated by the ruined bedstead regarding them both in a fatherly way, she fluttered her lashes coyly and said, “Oh, I’m so embarrassed. I fear I was overcome with passion just now.”

  So Captain Gringo reintroduced her to Gaston as she rose in naked majesty to offer Gaston her hand as she stepped grandly over the bed rail. The Frenchman rose to take her hand and kiss it as Captain Gringo sat up, decided nothing was broken but the bed, and muttered, “I wish I could wake up. This dream is getting really silly. What if the hotel just uses unusually cheap locks, even for Bananaland, Gaston?”

  As the princess moved demurely into her own bathroom, Gaston shook his head and said, “Two reasons, Dick. In the first glance, it would not be cheaper, it would simply be stupider to have some local craftsman make a Chinese copy of an already cheap Connecticut lock in softwood. In the second place, I took the liberty of twisting some other knobs as I made my weary way along the corridor. We three, and we three alone, have been honored with door locks even a child, or at least a Polynesian princess, could open with a single snap!”

  Captain Gringo climbed out of the wreckage to fish a claro from his shirt on the floor as he said, “They prefer to be called Kanakas. Everything else you said makes sense. Up to a point, anyway. To switch locks on us, they’d have to be working with the hotel help, right?”

  Gaston shook his head again and said, “I already thought of the passkey they’d find simpler if it was an inside job. It only took me a few minutes to unscrew the bolt plate and fish out the ruined innards of the adorable devices. Then I had to figure out what all that merde inside was! A professional sneak, with a lookout positioned on the stairs, would only need a few seconds to change the locks with ones he’d prepared in advance, hein?”

  “What about our keys fitting the original locks? Never mind. Stupid question.”

  Gaston answered it anyway, saying, “Eh bien any key fitted to the same brand of lock will open any lock of species once a small, unimportant plate is removed. As to obtaining the same brand in advance—”

  “I just said it was a dumb question,” Captain Gringo cut in, lighting his claro before he added, “The only question now is our next move.”

  Before Gaston could reply, the princess came out of her bath wearing a kimono and looking contented as only a freshly milked cow or a woman who’s just come more than once ever looks. Captain Gringo told Gaston to hold the thought as he scooped up his clothes and ducked into the john a moment to wash off and dress. It only took a few minutes, so he was surprised as hell to come out and find Manukai seated, kimono open, with her long brown legs hooked over the arms of the chair as Gaston knelt before her, stripping off his own duds as he ate her pussy.

  Captain Gringo muttered, “Oh, for God’s sake,” as the big and most obviously uninhibited princess smiled up at him to say, “I just asked him if it was true what they said about Frenchman, Dick. I didn’t expect him to give me a practical demonstration so suddenly!”

  Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “I can see he overpowered you. Okay, kiddies, try not to bust any more furniture while I see about getting us all to Puntarenas aboard the last night train. We sure as hell don’t want to be here around four a.m.”

  They didn’t answer. Gaston couldn’t talk with his mouth full, and the princess was starting to breathe funny as she lay back in the chair to enjoy what might or might not be a new sensation for a Kanaka world-traveler.

  As he left the hotel via the back entrance again, Captain Gringo began to feel more coolheaded. It wasn’t simply because the night air was cooler after midnight. He’d started to think cooler about the warm nature of the big South Sea Island gal. There was no sense getting steamed about old Gaston going down for sloppy seconds. At least it hadn’t been the other way around; and he’d been a little worried about anyone that big taking a possessive shine to him.

  At least he shouldn’t have to worry now about her beating him for looking at another woman. She was as bad as, hell, a man about sex. So, yeah, maybe they’d be able to treat her as one of the boys. S
he sure was tougher than most of them.

  The hotel, catering mostly to out-of-towners, was only a short walk from the San José railroad depot and yards. He didn’t approach the depot via the front entrance. A knockaround guy could get killed doing dumb things like that, even when he didn’t know for sure someone was gunning for him for some reason.

  He mulled over possible motives as he moved down a side street, found the gap in the fencing he remembered— between two pepper trees nowhere near a street lamp—and eased himself into the dark and, he hoped, deserted, rail yards. No yard bulls should be patrolling this close to the depot where no tempting freight cars were standing. He clung to a long black shaft of shadow running in line with the tracks leading to the passenger loading platform ahead, walking slowly to keep from crunching railroad ballast under his mosquito boots as he pondered all the mysterious events of the past few hours.

  They refused to make much sense. The princess hadn’t even approached him until the sun had sunk mighty low for planning sneaky in advance, so … Wait, she’d said she’d been asking around town all day, maybe longer; so, yeah, someone might have guessed she’d meet up with him and Gaston sooner or later at her own hotel and that sooner or later she’d recruit two known soldiers of fortune for her wild rescue scheme.

  Okay, the two thugs he and Gaston had taken out after the locks must have been doctored had said someone didn’t want her enslaved subjects rescued, so … That didn’t work.