by Lou Cameron
“I’m afraid that is impossible, mein Herr. They are not here. They have gone to make preparations for the trip and will be joining us in the morning. But what could you possibly want with them? I thought you already had your own guides, mein Herr.”
Captain Gringo shook his head wearily and said, “I didn’t want to swipe them, I assure you. I just wanted to see if they were both real Mexicans.”
“What else would they be, Swedes?”
“They sure as hell can’t be local natives, doc. Everyone in this part of Mexico knows you don’t take women and other goodies worth fighting for into the high scrub without even a BB gun! How many people are we talking about, anyway?”
Fitzke sniffed and said, “There are thirty male field workers and ten nursing sisters in this relief expedition, if it’s any of your business. Why?”
Captain Gringo picked up his bundle, got to his feet, and said, “There’s a chance that big a bunch may look like too big a boo for the average raiding party. But the odds against you getting through are still lousy, even if your dopey guides know the way. I’m still willing to help. But if I’m wasting my breath, just say so and I’ll be on my way, doc.”
Fitzke said he was. So he left, muttering under his breath. He’d have never saved four of the idiots from the local villagers had he known they all meant to be murdered by bandits anyway.
He had to pass through the market again to get back to Pilar’s hideout. So on the way he stopped at another stall and picked up three old Spencer repeating rifles, with ammo to fit the bore. He would have bought more, had the gunsmith had any in stock. But, as it was, he was packing quite a load when he got back to Pilar’s.
The front door was locked. He kicked it a few times and at last Pilar got around to letting him in. She frowned at the extra guns as he placed them on the table. She asked who they were for and he said, “I’m not sure. We may make some converts along the way. Where’s Gaston?”
“In bed with Concepción. He asked me to join them, but I don’t go in for kid games.”
“Oh? What sort of games do you go in for, Pilar?”
She shrugged and said, “I’ll sleep with you, if you like. It’s up to you. It’s only fair to warn you I am an old-fashioned girl. I only like for to fuck.”
He laughed and said he admired old-fashioned girls. He hadn’t been thinking along those lines until just now. He wondered why, as Pilar picked up the lantern and led him into another room. She looked a lot softer from behind and he hadn’t had a woman since that wild night with the twins back in Costa Rica.
Pilar had fixed up her own bleak little room with a sleeping pallet on the floor in one corner and a plaster Madonna in a corner niche. A votive candle was already burning in front of the little santa. So Pilar blew out her lamp and placed it on the floor near the door as she closed and bolted it. Even by soft candlelight she looked tough as hell.
But as she slipped off her peon blouse, exposing her firm breasts, he could see she wasn’t a surly teenaged boy with long black hair after all. She said, “Get in bed. I’ll join you in a moment.”
That sounded reasonable. So he shucked his hat and jacket and sat on the pallet to finish undressing as Pilar, with no trace of shyness, unfastened her skirt, let it fall, and stepped out of it stark naked in the candlelight. She wasn’t built like a teenaged boy below the waist, either, and Captain Gringo was already rising to the occasion as she stood there with her hands on her firm hips to ask him, “Well, do you think I’m worth the time and effort, Captain Gringo?”
He said, “Call me Dick, and get over here muy pronto, querida!”
She smiled thinly and said, “Si, si, un momenta,” as she turned from him to face the plaster Madonna and dropped to her knees before it with her naked back to him. He watched, bemused, as Pilar offered a silent prayer, or perhaps a lewd wink, to the garishly painted little figure. Then she crossed herself, rose, dusted off her bare knees, and came to join him as he asked with a puzzled frown if she always said her prayers like a good little girl before she went to bed with a man.
She said, “I pray every night before I go to sleep, whether I have company or not.” Then she shoved him down roughly, forked a leg over his supine flesh, and grabbed his erection to guide it in as she impaled herself on him.
He hissed, “Jeeez!” as her wet warmth reminded him how long indeed it had been since he’d been in such nice surroundings. She was tight as well as hot, but didn’t subject him to the usual maidenly gasp as she took it to the hilt and proceeded to screw him, very nicely, while she calmly observed, “You have a nice cock. I’m glad. We are going to be spending many nights on the trail together and I hate to play with myself, don’t you?”
He chuckled and said, “I like this a lot better than my hand. Let me get on top, querida.”
She moved faster, contracting skillfully, and replied, “Not yet. I like for to be in command. Don’t you like what I am doing, Deek?”
“Very much. But I’d like it better if I was in charge.”
She hitched her bare heels forward to throw her weight on them as she began to move up and down in long, teasing strokes, saying, “In my own bed, am the boss, Deek. Ah, I felt that. But you can’t take it out until I come, too!”
He didn’t answer. He just lay there letting her milk the last drops of his unexpected but not at all unpleasant first ejaculation. Her brown skin was shiny with sweat as she tried to move even faster with her full weight on her smooth but powerful legs. He knew for sure, now, that old Pilar was used to hiking over mountains a lot. But he could tell she was starting to tire, too. So he simply reached up, pulled her heaving slippery breasts down against his chest, and rolled over with it still inside her as she protested, “No! I wished for to come on top!”
He hooked an elbow under each of her slippery brown knees and spread her thighs wider as he proceeded to pound her hard. With her tailbone against the firm floor pallet it was easy to hit bottom with every stroke, and she forgot her street-punk act as she gasped and said, “¡Madre de Dios! What do you think I am, a bottomless pit! You are too big for to do it to me that way. You are hurting me and… Ay caramba! It feels so good and I am, oh, Jesus, Maria, y José, I am cominggggg!”
That made two of them. So Captain Gringo stopped to let it soak as they swapped spit and cooing noises while her insides rippled like warm wet velvet on his shaft. When they came up for air, Pilar said, “That was not fair. How was I to know you carried such a concealed weapon?”
“Have we settled it about who’s the boss of this expedition, Pilar?”
She laughed and asked, “Is this an expedition? It feels like fucking. But, bueno, I do not mind taking orders from a man, if he is a real man, and if you were any more real I would need a doctor right now! Could we rest a moment, querido? Doing this with you takes a little getting used to!”
He kissed her, dismounted, and reached for his shirt to fish out a claro and a light. “As they cuddled together after he’d lit up, Pilar shared the cigar with him, commenting on the good tobacco. She smoked like a tough little mutt, too. But now that they’d gotten to know each other a little better, she was feminine enough to ask him about the extra guns. He told her about the Red Cross expedition’s odd views on weaponry and she agreed that they were trying to commit suicide. But she still didn’t see how the old Spencers could possibly help.
He said, “We’ll let them start ahead of us. We’ll follow just out of sight behind them. Do you want to make an educated guess about what has to happen next?”
She took a puff on the claro, handed it back to him with a frown, and said, “It is not a guess. It is a certainty that they will walk into an ambush within a day or so. But why should we care, Deek? We are not Red Cross workers.”
He took a drag and said, “No, but we still have to get where they’re going. If they’re out front, they’ll run into trouble before we can, see?”
“Better them than us. But for why do we need extra weapons? Concepción and I have our
own and you two men have pistols, rifles, and that machine gun as well, no?”
“Call me a soft-hearted slob. But if those Red Cross guys live long enough, some of them may know how to shoot. Four old rifles spread among forty people won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Ah, you mean to sell them the repeaters when they see the light?”
“We’ll work something out. It depends on how many of ’em are left to see anything. What are the odds on the guys in the Sierra Madres jumping a party that size, not knowing they don’t have guns, Pilar?”
She shrugged and said, “¿Quien sabe? Los Indios may not attack them if their guides are smart enough to steer them clear of any villages or sacred places. The guerrillas have better weapons, but taking on thirty men who could be armed is not an adventure to consider lightly. They may make it through the smaller bands. If El Caballero Blanco and his hombres are between here and the cut-off first rescue party, the second one is as good as done for.”
“The White Knight doesn’t scare easy?”
“El Caballero Blanco is in the habit of fighting the Guatemalan army regularly, and they have tried for to kill him with field artillery! Thirty men in any kind of uniform would be just what El Caballero Blanco would desire for a light supper. The ten women, of course, would make a good dessert!”
“Let’s hope nobody runs into a serious rebel band, then. Shall we get some sleep, or are you game for some dessert, too?”
She asked him if he was kidding. So he laughed and started to snuff out the claro on the dirt floor. She took it from him and said, “Wait, do not put it out. I wish to take a few more drags on it.”
He thought she meant she wanted to puff it with her mouth some more. She didn’t. As he reclined on one elbow to watch, bemused, Pilar spread her thighs and lay on her back to shove the wet, unlit end of the claro up her love box, and, sure enough, she could puff it pretty good that way, too.
As he watched the glowing tip winking like a red firefly on the end of her unusually improvised dildo, he said mildly, “You told me you didn’t go in for crazy sex, querida.”
She said, “I am not doing this for to show off. The smoke makes me more sensitive inside, see?”
“I see indeed, and it’s giving me another hard-on, for some dumb reason. Aren’t you already, ah, tenderized enough in there, doll box?”
She giggled and said, “It tickles and teases and I know you have already come twice. So if I am to arouse you again I must add spice to my tamale, no?”
It was teasing him, too, just watching, as he considered the smooth internal muscles expanding and contracting on that big cigar. It was enough, to make a guy feel jealous. He said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, querida, but I’m already about as hard as a guy can get. Let’s cut this smoking in bed and do it right.”
She rolled her head on the pillow, glanced down, and said, “Oh, you do seem to be hot again, no?”
“That’s what I just said. Take that dumb thing out and let me get in again.”
She laughed, started to withdraw the claro, then moved it in and out of herself experimentally as she said, “Oh, this feels so strange.”
“It looks strange, too. Do you always jerk yourself off when there’s a perfectly good real thing at your disposal?”
She started doing it faster as she replied, “No. This is the first time I’ve tried this, with a man watching. It is giving me a very strange thrill. I wonder what it would feel like if I went all the way with it.”
He grimaced and said, “Jesus, this is the first time I’ve ever had a fucking cigar steal my girl.”
She said, “Lie back down, Deek. I wish for to try something.” He shrugged and lay back, muttering, “Whatever Gaston and Concepción are doing next door has to make more sense.”
Then he closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as she rolled over onto her hands and knees to go down on him as she went on dildoing herself with the claro. For a girl who said she was old-fashioned, Pilar sure sucked like an old pro, and this was sure an easier way to come than most, so what the hell.
It was just as well that he was semi-sated, given the skillful way she offered head. He knew he’d have come by now if she’d started this freaky way. She began to move on her knees to aim her brown rump at the head of the pallet, next to his. He didn’t know about that. He could be as good a sport as the next guy with a reasonably clean lady he knew better. But the tough little mestiza had been a bit gamy even before she was sweated up and filled with his and who knew who else’s love juice.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. She spit him out just long enough to say, “Help me with the cigar, por favor!” So, as she inhaled again with her mouth, he laughed and took hold of the claro to slide it in and out of her while he fingered her wet clit with the other hand. That did it for her. She sobbed, swallowed his shaft all the way, and blew smoke out her vagina. He could tell from the vibrations of the now ruined-for-good cigar that she was coming, hard.
He did, too, deep in Pilar’s throat. But, wanting to finish right, before it went soft on him, he withdrew the cigar, threw it away, and shoved her forward to roll over and mount her from behind And she was right about smoked meat having a tang all its own. It flashed hot and cold as he shoved it in and out of her while she beat the straw-filled pallet with her fists and sobbed that she’d never had it so good before.
He knew she was probably full of shit as well as his excited organ grinder. Dames knew they were expected to tell guys things like that no matter how many times they’d come with others or, in Pilar’s case, probably anything that would fit. But he knew she wasn’t faking when she came again and clamped down so hard that she popped him out as he was on the backstroke, almost there. He swore, fumbled it back between the slippery brown cheeks of her rollicking rump, and thrust home hard all the way. She gasped and arched her back to shove her brown cheeks up against him as he realized his error and said, “Oops, sorry, thought this was the other hole.”
“Do it, do it, do it!” she said, sobbing. So he finished that way in less than ten strokes and collapsed on her soft brown back, saying, “I hope I didn’t hurt you, querida.”
She murmured, “You did, a little, but I’ve always wondered what it would feel like back there. Don’t move. It doesn’t hurt now. But, Madre de Dios, it feels so big in there.”
He knew she was shitting him about her shit hole’s virginity, too. No dame liked it this way unless she’d done it a few times with someone or something. From the skilled way she rippled those internal muscles, he suspected a banana or perhaps a burro had had her this way ahead of him. He wondered why a dame who looked so tough and made love so wildly felt the need to pretend it was all so new to her. Maybe she was just a compulsive liar. That was something to think about, when a dame was about to lead you into other new territory where a fib could cost a guy his life!
But he put the vague suspicion aside for the moment when Pilar purred, “You can start moving now, querido.”
“You’re sure you want to do it some more this way, doll box? I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t see what you’re getting out of it.”
She arched her spine teasingly and said, “It does not hurt. It feels most dirty and romantico at the same time, and that is what I am getting out of it. Do it, Deek! Fuck me in the ass, muy toro, and make me come this way, too!”
So he did, and she did. By the time they fell asleep in each other’s arms, he was sort of looking forward to a week or so on the trail with this tough little mutt.
*
Since they wouldn’t be leaving as early as planned, the girls cooked a warm breakfast the next morning as the soldiers of fortune regarded each other wryly across the table. They were both dressed like Mexican vaqueros and Gaston looked like he’d had a hard night, too. But both the fat Concepción and little Pilar seemed to glow as they busied themselves to take care of their newfound friends’ other appetites. It wasn’t polite to compare notes on pussy in front of ladies, so Ca
ptain Gringo brought Gaston up-to-date on the Red Cross team and his plan to use them as advance scouts, with or without their knowledge or desire. Gaston said it was the smartest suggestion he’d made up to now and that it could only be topped by just tossing in the towel and running like hell.
Captain Gringo said that aside from being a breach of contract, it could wind up being more dangerous, in the end. He said, “We know what’s ahead of us in the Sierra Madres. The girls will get us in and nobody’s after us in Guatemala right now.”
Gaston said, “Oui, but once we get in, we must get out, and with at least one extra bit of baggage. This species of Red Cross girl the company is so worried about may not get along with your Pilar, if she is at all attractive, hein?”
“Oh, shit, we’re not going in to screw her. We’re going in to rescue her, you dope!”
“True. But where in the fine print does it say you have to be rude to her, Dick? I was hoping you might be able to persuade her to come with us with your usual charm. I see, this morning, that you have forfeited that advantage. Assuming, of course, you intend to use the same guides on the return trip.”
They were speaking English. But one never knew. So Captain Gringo said, “Let’s not discuss business at the table. We have to find Miss Swann alive and well before we can ask her about her sex life.”
“What if she is not alive when we arrive, Dick? No word has been heard of that first Red Cross team since the volcanic indigestion cut them off up there.”
“I wish you hadn’t asked that. If they’ve all been cooked or killed by anything else, we’re shit out of luck, of course. But we’re not going to find out sitting here. What time is it?”
“Six-thirty, why?”
“Sunrise was at six. The Red Cross bunch will probably screw around awhile, but Fitzke said they were pushing off this morning. So let’s give ’em another hour. We’ll be moving faster, once we’re moving. So if we’re giving them a real lead, it still evens out.”
