by Lou Cameron
“I’ll ask Decepciona if she can find a friend for you. Most of them don’t even know how to kiss, but they seem to be willing pupils. I’m sort of fond of Sylvia, too. It can’t be helped. Someone has to get word to the outside world about that secret base. It may as well be four poor dupes who’d be of little use to us in a firelight.”
Gaston gasped, “Mon Dieu, what is this nonsense about a firefight? If you are seeking volunteers to charge madly at people armed with eight-inch field guns, do not look at me, you maniac!”
Captain Gringo shrugged and said, “Okay, the others would probably be safer if you went along with them in Sylvia’s steamer.”
“That is the simple truth, for a change. But that leaves you, this steam car, a dozen naked savages, and a rusty machine gun low on ammunition to do … what, for God’s sake?”
“Pay those Germans back, of course. I said I liked these Indians. Phoebe was a good kid, too.”
Gaston sighed and said, “I never got any of that, but I’ll take your word that she looked better without her glasses. You are still out of your mind, Dick. You only know the general direction of the base. You have no idea of the numbers, the weapons, or the dispositions of their defense perimeter!”
“That’s where Indian scouts come in. I don’t intend to drive in beeping Bertie’s horn, for chrissake. Why don’t you go tell the others? I hate long goodbyes, and there’s no reason for any of you to hang around here getting bitten, once we get the extra oil.”
Gaston said, “I hate long goodbyes too. I make it an overnight drive to Patuca, by compass. I’ll tell Pat after I spend one last pleasant interlude with her. We don’t have to send them on their way until just before dark.”
“We? I thought you just said only a maniac would stay here to take on all those square-headed sons of bitches, Gaston.”
Gaston shrugged and said, “I too think they are sons of bitches with square heads. We French owe them for 1870, as well as their more recent trés disgusting butchery of women and children. I agree we are both behaving like maniacs. We shall probably both get killed. But what would I do for amusement in my declining years if I left you here alone to get killed? You are a trés crazy bull-headed pain in the derriere, Dick Walker, but I never had such fun before I was mad enough to team up with you!”
*
Sylvia didn’t want to go without him, but she sure enjoyed coming with him as they made love in his new hut, covered experimentally with slippery citronella oil. She asked how on earth she’d ever get it off, and he pointed out that she’d be able to enjoy a nice hot bath in Patuca after she contacted the British consulate there.
He said, “Just tell them there’s a secret German base at Laguna Caratasca and they’ll take over from there, honey. You and the others will be safe to leave for Blighty on the first steamer out. Not even Der Kaiser’s spies in the field would be dumb enough to bother any of you once they knew you’d spilled the beans. They only murder people to keep them from singing. No point, after, and even a pro can only get away with so many murders, so—”
“I’m not worried about that, darling,” she cut in, running her oily palms over his greasy buttocks as she thrust her pelvis up to take all his oiled shaft to the hilt. Her oily nipples sure felt neat against his chest. But though she went on screwing nicely she didn’t seem to be as hot as expected. She asked, “Will we ever see each other again, Dick?”
He said, “Sure, you can write down your address in London for me before it’s time to cut out.”
She sobbed. “I know all too well how often you’ll be getting to London! Can’t you give up this perishing life, Dick? I’ve a good income and—”
“Don’t talk dirty, just screw dirty,” he cut in, adding, “There’s a nasty word for a man who lets a woman support him. Besides, I’d need a British passport to be your kept lap dog, and those are kind of hard to apply for when a guy’s wanted for everything but the common cold. Hey, I wonder what it would be like dog-style with all this slop on us.”
“I don’t feel acrobatic this afternoon, darling. I feel very left out of your life. Can’t you just hold me tightly, like you never intend to let me go?”
He slid his hands down her oily buttocks to cup them as he got even deeper in her between her slippery, welcoming thighs. He didn’t answer her question with words. It would have sounded dramatic to point out that he didn’t know how much life he had left to leave her out of. Dames like her and guys like him had no business falling in love. So he tried not to as he made love to her.
It wasn’t easy. Sylvia was beautiful as hell and a great lay, even without the added spice of the sensuous oil on her rippling curves. They came again. She begged for more. But he said, “I’d like to. I can’t. By now the others are ready and must be sort of wondering, honey. We’d better get you dressed and on your way.”
He climbed out of the hammock. She lay there, desirable as ever, with her eyes closed and a tear running down her oily cheek. She asked if he’d do her one last favor. He agreed, of course. She said, “I want you to get dressed first and just leave, Dick. I want you to go for a walk in the woods or something while I gather myself together. I’ll be all right. I know what to do. But I’m afraid I’d act silly in front of the others if you were standing there as we drove off.”
He bent, kissed her tear-filled eyelids, and ducked out of the hut without another word. Outside, he saw that Pat and the two Englishmen were waiting in the Stanley, with the fire already lit under the boiler. He waved to them and kept going until he was well out in the jungle. He sat down on a log in a copse of gumbo limbo and lit a smoke. The clothes he wore felt awful with all that grease on his body. He’d be able to dress as sensibly as the Indians, once the others left.
Come to think of it, now was as good a time as any to start. He stood up, peeled off his messed-up clothes, and sat down again, naked save for his boots and shoulder rig. It felt a lot better. It felt even better when little Decepciona joined him on the log.
Decepciona sat astride the smooth fallen timber, her freshly greased body facing him. Her legs of course were spread wide and her bare little box would get splinters in it if she wasn’t careful. She said, “I followed you. Is it permitted?”
He said, “Of course,” handing her the claro. She took a deep drag and handed it back, saying, “That is very good tobacco. I came to your hut to see if you wished anything. I went away when I saw you were making love to that blanca. ”
“Sorry about that, querida. I was, ah, saying goodbye to her.”
“I understand. I could see why she was so upset to leave you behind. It upset me, too, a little. I am trying to understand why. The old ones say it is silly for a woman to want a man all to herself. Jealousy is a wicked vice. I am trying not to be jealous. It is not easy.”
He twisted and sat facing her astride the log as he pulled her upper body closer. Their knees got in each other’s way until the pragmatic Decepciona solved the problem by slipping her greased thighs over his and sliding her little brown rump closer. He kissed her and said, “You don’t have to be jealous anymore, if they’ve left.”
She said, “They have. They drove off in the rolling choo-choo thing as I was leaving camp. Oh, my heart soars to feel what you still feel for me below the waist, Dick person. I did not think you would be able to do it again for some time, after the way I saw you bouncing on that blanca in the hammock. You are a very surprising man.”
He too was pleasantly surprised to feel the head of his renewed enthusiasm throbbing teasingly between the oiled bare lips of her little brown box as she wriggled closer. The position was a bit awkward until he tossed the cigar away and wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in until her oiled torso and firm slippery breasts were against him. He knew they’d get messy as hell rolling in the soggy forest duff with all this oil on them. It was a novel position, too. So he stayed astride the log as he worked it in deeper. As a natural sex enthusiast who’d probably been at it since she could walk, Decepciona caugh
t on and pressed down with the backs of her thighs over his to raise her groin from the wood and slide all the way onto his shaft. She hissed in pleasure and started moving her widespread lap in his, saying, “Oh, this is nice! I’ve never done it this way before, have you?”
He assured her they were almost virgins, as he held her close and played pony boy with her. For a gal who said she was jealous, Decepciona sure had a forgiving nature.
He realized why he was still up to it, as he mentally contrasted her with the more complicated white girl he’d just had. Decepciona’s face wasn’t as pretty. Her body, while great, was too different to compare, so he couldn’t judge who had the better shape. What he liked about his new love was that she didn’t bullshit about love as they enjoyed good clean fun.
Sylvia had left him feeling guilty and gulpy-throated even as she’d screwed him silly. The mixed emotions had put him off his feed enough to keep him from really enjoying her to the full. This simple child of nature was making up for it in spades. She was literally screwing him with corkscrew motions of her shaved oily snatch, and, wonder of wonders, he was starting to come again!
She felt it as he ejaculated in her. She laughed and kept moving until he could tell by her contractions that she was coming, too. But, unlike most white women, she neither accused him of hurting her nor stopped what she was doing so nicely down there. She slipped out of his oiled arms to lean back with her back arched, her locked elbows holding her atop the log as she threw her head back and just enjoyed it with her eyes closed serenely and a pleased little smile on her face.
By the time she finished climaxing she had him hot as hell again. So he moved his legs back, leaned forward, and pressed her full length on the log to do it old-fashioned, sort of. As she locked her slippery legs around his waist, Decepciona said calmly, “Don’t let me fall off,” so he said he wouldn’t.
He held on to the log with his hands on either side of her trim waist as he leaned his upper body against her slithery brown breasts and braced a stiff leg out to either side for balance. As he started moving, entering her at an astounding angle, he wondered why he’d ever thought it was novel in a hammock. His well-braced hips were free to swivel in any direction, and did, as he long-donged her to mutual glory, kissing her sweet little mouth as his butt went crazy at a higher level. She’d caught on to kissing well by now, and tried to swallow his tongue alive as she did the same favor at the other end while he was coming in her.
When they had to stop, being only human, Decepciona sighed contentedly and said, “I am glad that blanca is gone. Now I shall have you all to myself forever and you will be our new chief, no?”
He didn’t answer. He’d just turned down an invitation to live the rest of his life in London. Apparently all women were sisters under the skin, no matter what color skin they wore.
It was a lousy shame. Men and women both deserved somebody who thought more like they did, but the Creator had fucked up both sexes when He’d created fucking, by giving them brains as different as the good parts. The only way a man or a woman could ever find a sex partner who thought the same way they did seemed sort of disgusting to a born heterosexual. It’d be fun to make it with an old pard who looked on life the same way, but he’d never met a man with she-male sex organs, so what the hell. He just had to grin and bear it.
He sat up, still astride the log and in her, to say, “We have to start thinking about this chief business. Will your warriors follow my orders to the letter, Decepciona?”
“None of them can read letters, but they will do as you say, if I am there to translate, of course.”
He hadn’t thought of that. He said, “I don’t want your pretty little ass any closer to those German field guns than they are right now, nina mia!”
She wriggled on his shaft teasingly and said, “I must come with you, if you wish the others to do as you say. And speaking of coming, Dick person …”
He started to say no. Then he wondered why any man would want to say a silly thing like that. He had some heavy planning to do. But he didn’t have any office to do it in right now, and she sure could hold on well down there. He knew what she was deliberately doing with her skilled internal muscles to be able to hold an oil-slicked and half-soft erection in her at such an angle. It didn’t stay half-soft long. He stayed upright astride the log, playing with her oily nipples as he started sliding his crotch back and forth on the now oil-polished-smooth mahogany. It sure beat doodling with a pad and pencil as he started to do some serious thinking about that German base.
Gaston must have been thinking along the same lines. He called out in English as he approached, “Eh bien, they’ve left for Patuca and Pat said she’d never forget or forgive me. So we have all these jolly Indians to ourselves and … . Oops, I did not know you made friends so quickly, Dick!”
Decepciona didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be found in such a position, and it wasn’t as if Captain Gringo and Gaston were strangers, but at least he stopped moving in her as he sat up to explain, “I’ve been working on a plan to do something about that base.”
“Oui, I admire your grasp of strategy. Does she have a friend?”
Captain Gringo translated in Spanish for the Indian girl, adding that Gaston jerked off in public if he went more than a few hours without a woman. Gaston had just had a redhead young enough to be his granddaughter, but Decepciona didn’t know that. She said, “Oh, the poor thing. I can find him a woman as soon as we rejoin the others. If he’s really suffering, I suppose I can take care of him right here. I am still most hot.”
Captain Gringo grimaced as Gaston, who spoke better Spanish than either of them, laughed and said, “Move over and let a man show you how it is done, Dick!”
Captain Gringo looked down dubiously at the girl who was still holding his shaft in her and said, “I thought you were jealous, Decepciona.”
She said, “I am. I hate to see a pretty man making love to another woman. It makes me feel left out. I will not service your friend if you are jealous. It was just a suggestion.”
Captain Gringo grimaced and said, “Go take a leak or something while I finish, and then she’s all yours, pard. I see some practical advantages to not getting involved with more of these gals than we have to, even if it’s a little disgusting.”
“I don’t like sloppy seconds any more than you do, dammit!” snapped Gaston in English. Captain Gringo translated, explaining that they’d better get another girl in deference to Gaston’s sudden delicacy.
Decepciona giggled and said, “I have an idea. It’s something I have always wanted to try, and for some reason I can’t seem to get enough today. Tell him not to go away. You lay flat on the log and let me get on top, Dick person.”
He couldn’t feel more silly, now. So he let her up to change places with him as Gaston watched, knowingly.
Decepciona straddled the big Yank and the log to lower herself onto him again. It wouldn’t have worked if she hadn’t been so skilled, since now he was really beginning to lose interest and she had to work it in almost soft. She started milking it with her internal muscles as she lay down against him, her legs out to either side and her little brown butt raised high and wide. She started grinding her pubic bone in his oily pubic hair, teasing it up again as she explained, “If Gaston person gets behind me, he won’t have to put it in the same place, no?”
Captain Gringo said, “Oh, for God’s sake, this is getting weird!” as Gaston caught on, dropped his pants, and straddled the log behind her. Captain Gringo said, “It won’t work, you crazy bastard! Haven’t you any feelings? I’m about to come again, dammit. Go jerk off someplace!”
Gaston took Decepciona’s hips in his hands and shoved his own considerable tool up her rear as she gasped in pleased surprise. It felt wild as hell to all three of them. Captain Gringo’s buttocks were pinned to the log by their combined weight and he couldn’t thrust up and down, even though he was on the razor’s edge of another orgasm.
He didn’t have to. Between the am
azing contractions of Decepciona’s vagina and Gaston’s big tool sliding in and out on the other side of her thin internal partition, Captain Gringo was literally jerked off. He groaned as he came in her and said, “Let me out of here, dammit! This is getting close to a crime against nature! Stop it, Gaston! If I wanted to screw you I’d have done it a long time ago, you degenerate old fart!”
Neither of them listened. He’d beaten them to the punch and they were both too hot to stop if he’d put a gun to their heads. He slid out from between them and the greasy log to land on the damp duff on his bare butt. If they noticed, they didn’t stop. He stood up to find his shirt and a smoke as Gaston pounded her to glory face down on the log. It took Gaston a while because he’d just been blown by Pat. It took Decepciona a while because he was, after all, in the wrong hole. But by sliding her deserted love box on the oily mahogany she managed to come just before Gaston, who in turn rolled off to lay flat on his back in the muck, sighing, “Thank you, my children. It warms my heart to see how you respect your elders.”
Captain Gringo said, “Put your fucking pants back on if you don’t want to wear grease. Enough of this bullshit. We’ve got a German base to take out and this isn’t the way to do it!”
*
It turned out that Decepciona did have a girl for Gaston back at the village. So, since the horny old fart had only spilled his seed in a part Captain Gringo hadn’t figured on using anyway, he decided to forgive them.
Her free and easy ways eliminated any future guilt he might feel when they left the Indians, as he knew they must. Meanwhile, as she was the only dame in the band he could talk to, he decided to keep going steady with her, if that was the right term. After she’d cooled off, even Decepciona realized she’d been a little bit naughty and said she wouldn’t lay anyone else without his permission, even if he was asleep.
So they slept. Most of them. Captain Gringo sent a couple of eager young warriors out to do some scouting in the dark. He knew they could case the base and get back to him before noon the next day. He knew where the damned base was. He just had no idea of the layout. He told his scouts not to go into business for themselves with their six-foot hardwood bows, explaining that he wanted his own visit to be a surprise.
