Baja Honeymoon

by Roland Graeme

  “God,” Ken gritted out from between clenched teeth. Although it was cool in the tent, sweat was already running down his face and body. “God, you’re tight.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Rick asked.

  “It’s good, buddy. Real good. How do you feel?”

  “Like I’m being fucked.”

  “I haven’t even started to move it around inside you yet,” Ken pointed out. “You don’t know what it means to get fucked yet. But you’re about to find out. Am I hurting you?”

  “No. It just feels kind of strange, that’s all.”

  “You ready?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You’d better be, because here it comes.” Ken made a tentative thrust.

  “Ah!” Rick cried, and the muscles in his shoulders and back stood out in high relief as he tensed under Ken.

  “You all right?”

  “Fuck me!” was all that Rick shouted by way of reply.

  “You want it? Then take it. Take my cock,” Ken commanded, in feverish arousal. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to hold back now, let alone stop thrusting, even had Rick begged him to stop. They were past the point of no return. Ken shoved himself deep into Rick’s canal, held himself there for a breathtaking instant, and then pulled back, letting his dick drag the membranes backward with it. “Do you like that? Does it feel good? Do you like being fucked?”

  “Yeah,” Rick managed to whisper. “Yeah, I like it. Don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop now. Go all the way. Fuck me. Really fuck me, the way you would any other dude. Just shove it in and out of my ass. I don’t care if it does hurt. I’m so fucking turned-on, I think I’m going to go out of my mind.”

  To Ken’s astonishment and delight, Rick didn’t seem content merely to lie there and be the passive recipient of Ken’s use of his hole. Instead, he began to take a much more active, indeed aggressive role in the fuck. Rick writhed in awkward, athletic, bump-and-grind pelvic rhythms under Ken. They were unmistakably the gyrations of an anal novice, but they were effective enough if only because of their sheer unpredictability. Rick’s motions further stimulated the plowing bulk of Ken’s turgid, ass-embedded prick. Ken fucked his buddy even harder now, thrilled by the way Rick took it, by the way he responded to even the most brutal lunges and withdrawals Ken could give him. Rick had seemingly been transformed from shy virgin to uninhibited male whore in the course of one easy lesson.

  “Oh, you like this queer shit, don’t you?” Rick accused him. “You like fucking another guy up the ass.”

  “You bet I do. Especially you. Especially your hot ass.”

  “You bastard. Oh, you horny bastard. You’re fucking me!”

  “I sure am. And you’re taking it, buddy. You’re taking it like a pro.”

  Ken was surprised by his own stamina. Nevertheless, he sensed that he couldn’t hold out much longer. Not with Rick’s eager movements allying themselves with Ken’s own unsparing thrusts. Ken slipped one hand down between Rick’s body and the pillows, already soaked with their sweat, that were propping up his ass. He found Rick’s cock and was pleased by its hardness. It wasn’t uncommon for a guy to go soft while getting fucked. But Rick was as hard as a rock, and although his prick was slick with sweat and dribbled precum, he seemed to be in no danger of coming just yet. Ken therefore felt free to stroke the other man’s cock with his fist as he fucked him. Rick’s growls in response told him Rick liked what was being done to him. Ken suspected, in fact, that Rick liked it a lot.

  Ken pounded Rick’s ass and toyed with his cock for long, delightful minutes. But each lunge he made into Rick’s butt, each caress he gave Rick’s shaft, heightened his excitement. Before long, Ken could feel himself losing his already shaky self-control.

  “I’m going to come soon,” Ken warned. “I’m going to come inside your sweet ass.” He continued to hump Rick and masturbate him at the same time. Rick’s cock pulsed more fiercely within his grip, suggesting that Rick’s lust, too, was suddenly surging toward the brink of orgasm. “How about you, buddy?”

  “I think I’m going to shoot too. Jerk me harder, man. Jerk my cock.” Rick strained upward, to receive Ken’s lunges into him and to give Ken more room to stroke his cock.

  “You fuck,” Ken gasped. “You goddamn horny fuck.”

  He was too excited. He had to come. He fell down on top of Rick’s powerful body, spitting out a stream of lurid curses that resembled bestial grunts rather than human speech. He sank his teeth into the meat of Rick’s sweat-glistened shoulder, leaving a pattern of deep indentations. Rick screamed in raw lust, and Ken echoed him, hoarsely.

  “You fucker!” Rick bellowed.

  “You fuck!” Ken retorted.

  “I’m coming.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ken felt the hot seed finally come to a boil deep inside his loins. The flow rushed through his cock in what felt more like a geyser than a series of orgasmic spasms. His cum filled the reservoir tip of the condom and bathed the head of his cock in its own slippery wet discharge. But Rick, Ken knew, was coming too. Rick let his face sink deep into the sleeping bag. Ken continued to toy with Rick’s cock as he went right on thrusting in and out of Rick’s ass, setting the seal on his possession of it. Rick’s penis suddenly lost its load, the semen wetting Ken’s eagerly fondling fingers.

  “Coming,” Rick said. “Oh God, I’m coming.”

  “Me too, buddy. Let me have it. Let me have your load.”

  The two men let their overheated bodies bang together in the throes of orgasm again and again, until Ken’s ferocious passion finally spent itself and he was content to lie quietly on top of Rick’s broad back with his chest sticking to the other man’s skin, glued to it by a thin film of their mingled sweat. Ken’s prick still pulsed away feebly inside Rick’s hot asshole, which occasionally flexed around its bulk.

  “Don’t pull it out of me yet,” Rick said. “It feels so good.”

  “Does it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you liked getting fucked, huh?”

  “You knew I would.”

  “I’ll keep it inside you until it goes soft. That way it won’t hurt you when I pull it out.”

  “You’ve had a lot of experience at this sort of thing, haven’t you?”

  “Plenty,” Ken bragged.

  “No wonder you’re so good at it.”

  “Thanks. I do aim to please.”

  Ken felt a wave of emotion passing through him. Their prosaic exchange somehow carried all the weight of a mutual declaration of love, at least as far as he was concerned. For the moment, he was content, lost in the experience of total satisfaction. He let go of Rick’s flaccid, dripping penis, slid both of his arms around Rick’s waist, and hugged him tight. He kissed Rick where a red mark revealed the spot on his shoulder where Ken had bitten him.

  Gradually, Ken could feel himself going soft inside Rick. He turned onto his side, pulling Rick along with him, then eased his cock out of Rick’s ass. He stripped off the rubber and tossed it aside, then took Rick in his arms again.

  “Thanks,” Ken said, simply.

  “No, thank you. I never expected it to feel like that. So tell me, how’d I stack up compared to all of the other guys you’ve fucked?”

  Ken laughed. “Come on, now. That’s an unfair question. Let’s just say that for a guy who never took it up the ass before, you showed a lot of willingness and enthusiasm, and that more than made up for any lack of technique.”

  “But you got off on fucking me, didn’t you?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.”

  “It’s not quite all that matters,” Ken protested.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning…. I don’t know.” Ken could feel himself dangerously close to making an avowal of love. Abashed, he restrained himself. If he said something stupid like I love you, man, Rick would surely make fun of him. It was safer to limit himself to a physical gesture. “Hey, come here, you.” Ken
turned Rick around so that they now lay face to face. He cupped Rick’s head in his hands and gently turned his face upward so they could kiss. He grunted with satisfaction when Rick thrust his tongue insistently into Ken’s mouth. This was the demanding, self-confident kiss of a man who wanted to kiss another man, no longer the tentative, distracted peck of a guy who was still confused and uncertain about male-on-male sexuality. Ken returned the kiss with interest. He hoped it expressed some small part of his true feelings for Rick.

  “You kiss nice,” Rick whispered.

  “So do you, once you get warmed up. God, if you were my lover, I’d spoil you rotten,” Ken declared.

  “If I was your lover, I’m afraid I’d have plenty of competition.”

  “I could be monogamous with the right guy. Well, reasonably monogamous,” Ken said by way of qualification.

  Rick chuckled. “At least you’re honest about it.”

  “And I’m glad you don’t seem to be having any second thoughts. You know, going off on a guilt trip now that you’ve gotten your rocks off and you realize you just had sex with another man.”

  “Maybe it’s the tequila, but I don’t feel any guilt at all.”

  “Good.”

  “Or maybe it’s you. The example you set, I mean. You’re sure out. There doesn’t seem to be anything ambivalent about how you feel about being gay.”

  “Nope. I feel no ambivalence whatsoever.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “I certainly got lucky tonight,” Ken teased. “Come on, it’s late. Give me another kiss, a good-night kiss this time, and then let’s settle down and get some sleep.”

  Rick kissed him, all right. Lustfully, open-mouthed, passionately. It wasn’t exactly the kind of kiss that was conducive to settling down and getting some sleep, but after returning the oral pressure, Ken did his best to get his mind off sex for the rest of the night. Happily, he relaxed in Rick’s embrace.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A DEODORANT CALLED SUCCESS

  A FEW miles north of San José del Cabo, the highway widened into a four-lane freeway. This was the telltale sign that civilization was lying in wait up ahead. San José del Cabo, Ken saw when he consulted the map, was the beginning of a sprawling metropolitan area that stretched across the bottom of the peninsula to the similarly named but larger and more famous Cabo San Lucas. Commonly referred to as The Tourist Corridor—or simply The Corridor—it was, in short, one big tourist destination. On his previous trip through Baja, Ken and his companion had deliberately avoided this part of the peninsula. They were on a tight budget, and so spent most of their pocket money in smaller towns and often in the kinds of bars patronized by the locals, rather than the more upscale establishments catering to tourists.

  The urban sprawl grew ever more pronounced as he and Rick entered the suburban areas north of San José del Cabo.

  “We’re not only on schedule, we’re ahead of schedule,” Rick reported. “I didn’t expect we’d make it to Cabo San Lucas to check into the hotel until after noon. Since we’ve got some time to kill, let’s stop at this place called Cacti-Mundo.”

  “Cacti-Mundo? What’s that?”

  “Cactus World, in plain English. It’s some sort of a botanical garden here on the way to San José del Cabo.”

  “We’ve seen nothing but cacti for days, and now you want to look at some more of them?”

  “Yes. According to the guidebook, this is supposed to be an interesting place.”

  “Right now I’m interested in a drink. But I’m willing to work up a thirst looking at cacti if we can find somewhere to quench it, afterward.”

  “Agreed.”

  Cactus World, Ken had to admit, was impressive—a maze of impeccably manicured walkways that threaded through displays of hundreds of varieties of cacti, including species not native to Mexico. At this early hour of the morning, there were more lizards than tourists strolling along on the paved paths. The one thing that was lacking in such a specialized garden was shade. The hot sun beat down on the two men, and they found themselves already sweating.

  They wandered around the garden, picking out their favorite varieties of cacti and chasing the wary, blinking lizards down the paths. A country club with a golf course surrounded by brightly painted condominiums was located on the expanse of open land behind the garden, reminding them that the American dollar ruled supreme, even in Baja.

  Back on the freeway, hotels and large resorts began to proliferate as they got ever nearer to Cabo San Lucas. They passed the airport and actually got stuck in some traffic for a few minutes. This was certainly an unwelcome change from the lonely back roads that they had become accustomed to.

  About halfway to Cabo San Lucas was a place they’d marked on the map as a possible stop, a beach named Playa Santa Maria. The guidebook recommended it as a lesser-known beach with great opportunities for snorkeling. To reach it, they had to exit the freeway and cross back underneath it on a dirt road that led to a parking lot. The lot was full of cars, but a uniformed security guard directed them where to park. Rick and Ken looked at each other and wondered aloud what the more popular beaches farther south would be like.

  The beach was a short walk away, so they loaded up a backpack with beach towels and some lunch, and started off across the sand. The path led to a horseshoe-shaped cove with a beach of coarse white sand. It was fairly crowded with tourists, mostly Americans and Mexicans, although now and then exchanges in various European languages could be overheard. They found an empty spot on which to lay out their things. After the seclusion they had experienced in Baja so far, any beach that had to be shared with other people seemed crowded, although in fact this beach wasn’t really so bad. It was much less crowded than any Southern California public beach would have been in decent weather.

  Small, clear waves broke on the sand, and the water deepened to a brilliant turquoise blue farther out. A large catamaran sailboat bobbed in the cove as a group of tourists snorkeled around it. Shortly after Rick and Ken arrived, someone on the sailboat blew a whistle. This was the signal for all of the snorkelers to return to the catamaran, which then sailed out of the cove. While Ken and Rick were enjoying themselves on the beach, several other boats full of tourists entered, snorkeled for a while, and then left.

  “Someday I want to be rich enough to own a boat,” Rick mused. “When I do, will you sail with me and be my first mate?”

  “Sure, captain,” Ken replied. “In fact, I’ll be your cabin boy… and service you loyally. I’ll take care of your every need, above or below deck.”

  Rick laughed. “Don’t you ever take your mind off sex?”

  “Sometimes. Even I need a break every now and then to recharge my batteries. But I have to admit that it’s hard to keep my mind off sex at the moment, with all of these hot bodies around us.”

  “Most of these young Mexican studs aren’t really into baggy swimsuits or shorts, are they? Tiny, tight bikinis seem to be the preferred beachwear.”

  “Bikinis, hell. Some of these guys look like they’re squeezed barely into G-strings, and are auditioning to work in a strip club.”

  “Are you getting a hard-on?”

  “Fuck, yeah. Why do you think I’m lying on my stomach? Give me credit for some discretion.”

  The sun was intense, and even with sunscreen, Ken could feel himself burning. He felt as though there was a huge heat lamp aimed directly at him. They were definitely in the tropics now. Feeling the need to escape from the relentless sun, he suggested to Rick that they get in the water and swim.

  The snorkeling was excellent in the clear water, and in spite of all the people in the water, there seemed to be fish everywhere.

  Back on shore, they lay on their beach towels, enjoying the view of the water, the sun, and even the people around them. Finally, though, they decided to pack up and head back to the truck. On their way out of the parking lot, they gave a tip to the security guard, as seemed to be the custom, and got back onto the freeway.

  It t
ook about half an hour to reach the actual city of Cabo San Lucas. Along the way, they passed any number of upscale beachfront hotels and resorts. There were definitely more American tourists milling about than they’d seen previously. The tourists were easy to spot as they drove past in their immaculate compact rental cars.

  Cabo San Lucas was a large city and a hub of activity. Several huge cruise ships, all with gleaming white hulls and superstructures, rode into the harbor, dwarfing the swarms of small boats on the water all around them. The streets were filled with pedestrians making their leisurely way from one shop to another, and the traffic was heavy. With some time still left to kill before they were expected at their hotel, Rick and Ken drove along the waterfront toward a natural feature, El Arco, for which Cabo was well known. El Arco, “The Arch,” was the focal point of a rocky outcropping that formed a narrow peninsula at the tip of the harbor. At the very end of this point of land was a little rock called Land’s End, which was considered to be the southernmost tip of Baja. Beyond that there was nothing to be seen but the Pacific Ocean, a broad expanse of foamy blue-green water that sparkled in the bright sunlight.

  Rick consulted his watch. “Let’s go check in.”

  “Okay. But tell me. Exactly how ritzy is this hotel we’re going to be staying at?”

  “It’s supposed to be one of the best ones here in Cabo. If you’re worried about the cost, don’t be. It’s my treat, remember? And it’s already paid for, in the sense that they have my credit card information on file.”

  “Well, thanks for picking up the tab.”

  “My pleasure. You seem anxious, for some reason.”

  “It’s just that we’re awfully dusty and sweaty. We look pretty grungy to be walking into a swanky place. Maybe we could find somewhere to stop and freshen up a bit before we check in.”