Baja Honeymoon

by Roland Graeme

  “I want you to come,” Ken confessed salaciously. “I want to see you shoot. I want to feel that hot cum squirting out of you.”

  “You dirty-mouthed bastard.”

  “You hung stud. Come, you fucking stud. Shoot that load. Let me have it. Let me have your cum.”

  “I’m almost there,” Rick warned. “You’re going to get it all over you, all over your hand.”

  “Good! That’s exactly what I want. Stop holding out on me, you fucker. Shoot it. Shoot that load.”

  “I warned you—oh hell, here it comes. I can’t hold it back.”

  “Don’t,” Ken pleaded. “Don’t hold anything back, buddy. Let me have it all.”

  “Coming—ah, Christ!”

  “Yeah. Yeah, baby.”

  Rick was thrashing about so violently now that Ken had real difficulty maintaining a grip on his cock. He closed his fist around it in a final squeeze, which this time he didn’t relax. He didn’t need to stroke the shaft any more, however. Rick was literally fucking his fist, working his hips hard and fast to keep up the friction. Letting out a plaintive little wail of helpless desire, Rick began to ejaculate. Ken could feel the sudden warm flow of thick fluid soaking his fingers. Expertly, Ken continued to work his now slippery hand, milking Rick dry.

  “Oh my God.” Rick’s voice was so breathless that it was barely audible.

  “You liked that, huh?”

  “I needed it. So bad.”

  “But did you like it?”

  “Yeah.”

  It sounded like a rather grudging admission, but Ken decided not to press the issue.

  “We’ve made a bit of a mess,” he said. “I’d better grab a towel.”

  He found a towel and daubed at Rick’s crotch, then wiped off his own fingers.

  “Thanks,” Rick murmured.

  “Are you going to fall asleep?”

  “Yeah. I’m all worn out.”

  “Oh.” What Ken had meant to say was Are you going to fall asleep without helping me get off first? But somehow he wasn’t surprised by Rick’s failure to reciprocate.

  Ken thought about jerking off all by himself. But the sight of Rick lying there, looking so peaceful, had an odd effect on him. It was sensual, but somehow not explicitly erotic. The sound of Rick’s steady breathing betrayed the fact that he was already fast asleep.

  Sighing, Ken forced himself to ignore the hard-on that was now protruding from his own groin. He slid into the sleeping bag next to Rick, put an arm around his buddy, and gave in to his own fatigue.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A NOCTURNAL ENCOUNTER

  IT WAS still dark and the stars were shining brightly in the black sky overhead when Ken was abruptly awakened by the crunch of tires on gravel as some vehicle rolled to a stop not far from the tent. Ken was instantly wide awake and wary, not thrilled by the prospect of encountering unexpected visitors during the middle of the night in any circumstances, and especially in such a secluded and remote location. He suddenly felt very naked and vulnerable indeed. The fact that he still had a semi-erection didn’t help.

  Several possible scenarios to explain the arrival of an intruder rapidly played themselves out in his head—none of them reassuring. Rick, he saw, was still fast asleep beside him and blissfully unaware. Ken quickly looked around for something he might be able to press into service as a weapon, if it came down to that, but all he could come up with as he groped about the vicinity of the sleeping bag was his journal and the pen he’d used to make his most recent entry in it. He mentally kicked himself as he desperately wished he had thought about the possibility of this sort of situation arising beforehand, and that he had taken pains to have some more suitable defensive weapon at hand.

  Okay, whoever you are out there, you’d better not mess with me. I have a ballpoint pen here. It’s loaded, and I’m not afraid to use it.

  With the far-from-lethal writing instrument held at the ready, he slipped out of the sleeping bag, opened the flap of the tent, and took a quick, furtive look outside. He was just in time to see a young Mexican man in a cowboy hat climb out of a beat-up pickup truck and stride toward him in his scuffed high-heeled cowboy boots. Oh fuck, Ken thought. This is definitely not good. The cowboy took several long-legged strides in Ken’s direction until he suddenly veered around the campsite and sauntered over to the dam. Turning on a flashlight he held in his hand, he climbed up the dam, made his way over to the irrigation gate, and unlocked the padlock. Then he began to turn the wheel, which could obviously use some grease, since it emitted faint squeals.

  Ken realized that the man had just come to turn on the irrigation water, and that he was probably not interested in a couple of gringos who happened to be camped out in the canyon.

  Curiosity got the better of him. He found his cargo shorts and pulled them on. Then he left the tent and walked barefoot toward where the cowboy stood.

  The Mexican nodded to Ken as he approached, with a slight smile of greeting that was encouraging.

  “Good morning,” Ken said.

  “Good morning to you.”

  “Are we on your land?”

  “Oh, no. This is public grazing land.”

  “Are there a lot of ranches near here?”

  “There are several.” The ranch hand waved in the general direction of the east. “The one where I work is not far from here. You must have passed it to get here. I believe you met my boss earlier today. He told me to look out for two gabachos, and make sure they were all right.”

  “What’s a gabacho?”

  “What the estadounidenses call a gringo.”

  “Well, we’re the two gabachos, and as you can see we’re fine.”

  “You are from the United States?”

  “Yes, from California. My name is Ken.”

  “And mine is Efraín.”

  “You’ve turned on the water, I see.”

  “Yes. I must let it run for two hours, then shut it off again. It isn’t worth driving back to the ranch, only to come back here again in two hours. I will wait here. Don’t worry. I won’t disturb you, if you want to go back to your tent and sleep.”

  “Oh, I feel wide awake now. What will you do to pass the time for two hours?”

  The cowboy shrugged. “Smoke. Read. Lie down in the back of my truck and look up at the sky and think. Take a nap, if I can fall asleep.”

  “Would you like a little company?”

  “Yes, if you like. Come, let’s sit down.” Efraín led Ken to his truck. He lowered the tailgate, and the two men sat on it, perching side by side with their legs dangling over the edge. Efraín offered Ken a pack of cigarettes.

  “No thanks. I don’t smoke.”

  “Do you mind if I do?”

  “Of course not. We’re on your turf.”

  Efraín lit up and smoked in silence for a few moments. Ken took advantage of the lull in their conversation to study the other man.

  Efraín was just the type that appealed to him, or rather he was one of the several types that Ken especially liked. He was sturdily built, with hard muscles, and had shoulder-length, straight black hair, black eyes, and a sexy coating of beard stubble on his cheeks and chin. Ken couldn’t help but speculate about what it would be like if he could entice him into a little man-to-man action. He wondered if Efraín was straight and, if so, whether he was the kind of open-minded straight man who would be willing to experiment under the right circumstances. And Ken flattered himself that he was an expert at creating the right circumstances, given half a chance.

  “Did you soak in the hot spring?” Efraín asked.

  “Yes. It was wonderful.”

  “Many tourists stop here to bathe in the water.”

  “And you men who live and work on the ranch? Do you bathe here too?”

  “Often, in our free time. Sometimes we bring food and drink along with us and have ourselves a party.”

  “That must be nice.”

  “It’s a pleasant form of recreation,” Efraín said, in
his polite, rather formal Spanish. He glanced around at the peaceful nighttime landscape. “It’s a warm night.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  Efraín’s black eyes flicked up and down over Ken’s bare torso and legs. “On such a warm night, it’s not necessary to wear too many clothes.”

  “No,” Ken agreed.

  “Maybe I will take my shirt off.”

  “Yes, why don’t you?” Ken hoped he didn’t sound too encouraging, although it occurred to him that their conversation was moving in a promising direction.

  Efraín unbuttoned his shirt all the way down the front and pulled his shirttails free from his jeans. With his smoldering cigarette stuck firmly between his full, pursed lips, he peeled the shirt off and tossed it onto the bed of the truck, revealing a tanned, chiseled torso with an enviable absence of excess body fat.

  “That’s better,” the ranch hand decreed.

  No kidding, Ken thought.

  Efraín glanced toward the tent. “Where is your friend?”

  “He’s there in the tent, fast asleep.”

  “I see. Is he your husband?”

  Ken was momentarily taken aback by the blunt question, but he recovered his poise quickly. “Um, no, just a friend. He likes women.”

  “And you?” As he asked the question, Efraín placed a hand on Ken’s bare knee. The palm of the hand and the finger pads were calloused. Ken could feel the product of hard manual work.

  “I like men.”

  “Mexican men?” This time, the cowboy punctuated the question by giving Ken’s knee a firm squeeze.

  “Mexican men are very attractive, yes.”

  “You think so? Do you like to make love?”

  “Yes, I do. Especially with an attractive man. And you happen to be an exceptionally attractive man.”

  “Ah, you flatter me.”

  “No, it’s true. I’m surprised you don’t have a lover.”

  “Oh, but I do. Back at the ranch. He, too, is still in bed, fast asleep,” Efraín said, with a sly grin.

  “Are you faithful to him?”

  “Not always, but he doesn’t mind. We allow each other our freedom. We both enjoy the company of other men. And you? You are a very beautiful blond gabacho. Very masculine. I should think you must have many admirers.”

  “I get around,” Ken admitted.

  “Would you like to make love now, with me? To pass the time?”

  “I can’t think of a better way to pass it.”

  Efraín gestured toward the tent. “What about your husband?”

  “As I told you, he isn’t my husband.”

  “Ah, but when you said that before, I thought you might be lying,” Efraín said bluntly. “Because you didn’t want me to know that you are a couple of maricones. Your boyfriend, then.”

  “I’m afraid he’s hardly my boyfriend, either. He’s just a friend. He doesn’t have sex with men.”

  “Not even with you?” Efraín sounded incredulous.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Well, technically, Ken had given Rick a hand job only a few hours previously, but in a sense that really didn’t count. And with his flirtation with Efraín going so well and headed in such a promising direction, Ken didn’t want to get bogged down in too many details.

  “I see. I was going to suggest that we wake him up, so that all three of us could enjoy ourselves. But are you telling me he would not be interested?”

  “I doubt that we could persuade him to participate.”

  “Too bad. But you and I can amuse ourselves. We will be careful not to make too much noise. We don’t want to wake up your friend.” Efraín threw his cigarette away. “We can do it right here. We can make love here, in the back of my truck. I have a blanket in the cab. I can spread it out for us. What do you like to do? Do you take it up the ass?”

  “You bet I do. I guess we’re going to need rubbers and lube. Don’t worry, I’ve got them. I’ll go get them.”

  “Hurry.” Efraín grabbed a fistful of his own crotch, squeezing himself through his jeans. “My need is great.”

  “So’s mine, amigo. Don’t sweat it. I know how to take good care of a man.”

  Ken dashed back to the tent. Inside, in the dark, he groped about feverishly, searching the interior of his duffel bag for his condoms and lube, and also grabbing a clean towel.

  Rick stirred. “Is it time to get up already?” he mumbled.

  “No, go back to sleep. I’m just going outside to take a leak.”

  “Well, do it quietly.”

  “I intend to.”

  Ken sprinted to the truck, where Efraín had already spread the blanket over the flat bed. He was once again sitting on the tailgate, pulling off his boots.

  “Let’s get naked and lie down together here,” Efraín suggested.

  “Yeah.” In his mounting excitement, the one word was all that Ken trusted himself to utter for the time being. His tongue felt thick inside his mouth, as though it was as tumescent as the two men’s cocks. The prospect of making love to Efraín in the cool open air under the star-studded sky intoxicated him.

  When they were both lying naked on the blanket, they embraced and kissed in a fever of unrestrained desire, mouths glued together in a deep tongue kiss, hands restlessly gripping each other’s body wherever they could reach. Suddenly, Efraín broke the kiss, using his hands on Ken’s shoulders to push him away and down.

  “Suck my dick,” he commanded, in a tone of voice that left no room for argument.

  Ken sucked it. He fed it all expertly into his mouth and began to move his head up and down to caress the full length of the shaft with his lips. Efraín let out a groan and reached down to grab a double handful of Ken’s hair, but it was hardly necessary for the cowboy to hold Ken down on him, let alone fuck his face. Ken pumped away eagerly, treating the young Mexican to a first-class norteamericano-style blow job.

  “Take it,” Efraín instructed him hoarsely. “Get that mouth of yours all the way down on me. Choke on it.”

  Ken obeyed. He was kneeling on the truck bed between Efraín’s widespread legs, and his own neglected erection, painfully distended, stabbed the air, blindly seeking relief. He finally wrapped his right hand around it in a loose fist and began to stroke himself to ease his torment, but not too hard, because he was afraid he might blast off prematurely.

  “That’s right. Beat your meat while you suck mine. You gabacho men are all cock whores,” Efraín declared. Technically, the words might be considered an insult, but there was a strange undertone of tenderness in his voice that mollified the harshness. “And you’re just like all the rest of them, aren’t you? You like to suck on a big Mexican dick, don’t you?” Efraín was breathing hard, his heavy chest rising and falling in a way that betrayed his growing excitement as Ken knelt to service him and forced another inch of his cock inside his already-filled mouth, so that Efraín’s swollen testicles rubbed against his chin and his lower lip. “I can tell you like it. I can tell you’re a good cocksucker. All right, now that you’ve got all of it in your mouth, go ahead and play with it. Use your tongue on it. Come on, I want to feel that tongue. Lick my cock. Oh yes, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s the way to do it. You know how to please a man, don’t you? Suck it. Suck that big cock.”

  Ken could only respond with a series of stifled grunts and groans of pure lust as he struggled to move his lips back and forth around the thick shaft he’d jammed so recklessly into his mouth. It was difficult to breathe around the bulky prick, but he was managing to suck it, all right, roughly pushing his mouth up and down on the meat Efraín was feeding to him so generously. Christ, this cowboy was hung big! Ken couldn’t imagine what it would be like to own such a prick, to have it attached to your body all the time. Exciting as it undeniably was during sex, such a large tool surely would just get in the way and almost be a liability in other circumstances.

  But the present circumstances were purely sexual: two naked men on the back of a truck, in the open air, under the nig
ht sky and the stars, one of them going down on the other with a passion that had something of desperation in it.

  He would have been happy to go on abjectly servicing Efraín until the horny bastard gave him a mouthful of cum. But suddenly, to his surprise, Efraín yanked on his hair and pulled his mouth away from the saliva-smeared cock.

  “It’s my turn, now,” Efraín announced. “You’re not going to have all the fun.”

  He twisted around and attacked Ken’s groin as avidly as Ken had mouthed his, taking Ken’s cock in his fist and jamming its swollen head between his lips. Efraín gave the glans of the penis a wet, suctioning kiss. It jumped in response to the wet pressure, tensing with excitement as the young Mexican stud’s agile tongue-tip next ran slowly from the base to the head of Ken’s penis and then licked its way down again, this time going lower, down to his balls. Ken felt the mouth pressing against his nuts, the lips parting, and then he experienced a gentle pressure and a tugging sensation on his scrotum as Efraín pulled one of his testicles into his mouth. Opening his mouth wider, Efraín sucked the other ball inside, as well.

  Ken liked having his balls sucked. Some of the men he’d had sex with couldn’t be bothered to try it. They were too eager to get at his cock and blow it. But with those men who had made oral love to his testicles, the treatment always filled him with wild excitement and made him hyperresponsive. Ken liked the slippery, wet feeling of another man’s hot tongue caressing his fat, hairy balls, moving them from side to side within his mouth, the way Efraín was doing now—washing them with warm spit, sucking on them.

  Efraín was good at it. Damned good. He was taking his time, obviously savoring the experience.

  Ken opened his legs wider to let the other man get at his nuts more easily. He resumed his own sucking of Efraín’s big cock, and he moaned with unadulterated pleasure as the mouth locked against his own groin continued sucking. Efraín teased him. He would let first one ball slip from his lips, then the other. But then he’d nuzzle his chin and cheeks against the bloated testicles, chafing them with his beard stubble, before he drew them right back inside his juicy mouth. He kept up this ball play, suckling Ken’s scrotum nonstop. Long minutes passed in ecstasy as Ken sucked feverishly on the ranch hand’s huge erection. His own cock swelled steadily harder and was jumping up and down from his belly as the hot lust within him mounted.