Brazilian Cattle Baron (Siren Publishing Ménage and More ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  “We can make our own rules.”

  “Let’s finish the sandwiches.”

  “Yes, they are very good.”

  “Would you like another beer? Or would you prefer something stronger, from the bar over there?”

  “Something stronger, perhaps.”

  “Are we starting to get drunk?”

  “I hope so, senhor.”

  “I hope so, too. It might improve my game.”

  “I’ll make the drinks, senhor.”

  “No, you stay sitting,” Sebastien insisted, getting up before Uver had a chance to rise from his own chair. “You are my guest.”

  Uver wanted a whiskey and soda. Sebastien decided he’d have the same. He made them stiff ones, on ice, noting that his uncle didn’t scrimp when it came to some of the pleasures of life—the whiskey was an expensive imported Scotch brand.

  “This is very good whiskey, senhor,” Uver declared after he’d tasted it.

  “Enjoy it. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  They resumed the game where they had left off, but now they conversed freely while they played.

  “Tell me, Uver, if it’s not too personal a question?”

  “What, senhor?”

  “Do you have any particular favorites, among the other men?”

  “Two or three,” Uver admitted. “I like to play the field.”

  “No one you consider your special friend, let alone your lover, then.”

  “Not in the sense that we are ready to exchange wedding rings,” Uver joked.

  “I understand you have slept with Estevao?”

  “He told you that?”

  “Not in so many words. Estevao is too discreet for that. I came to the conclusion, myself. If I’m mistaken—”

  “Oh no. Your conclusion is correct, senhor.”

  “Would it also be safe for me to assume you enjoyed it?”

  “Yes. Estevao is the best fuck on Marajó,” Uver declared. “He is very sexual. He is safado, like me.”

  “Safado, Uver? I don’t know that word.”

  “It means to be without shame, sexually. It is a compliment. Some of the men always tell Estevao he should go to Rio de Janiero and act in the porno films.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Although maybe I should give it some thought, Sebastien thought idly. I wonder how much money I could make in the long run if I invested some serious money in a porno film studio—either here, or back home? With Estevao as one of the studs in the studio’s stable, so I could also take my cut as his manager? He couldn’t wait to discuss the matter with his financial advisor and hear the man’s reaction!

  “But Estevao always says he likes sex too much to do it as a job,” Uver said.

  We’ll have to see about that! Aloud, Sebastien said, “So you enjoy watching porno films, Uver?”

  “Oh yes. We can buy not only the ones made here in Brazil, you know. The ones made in the United States, and in Europe, are imported here, as well. Those that are not dubbed into Portuguese are good for learning English.”

  “I imagine they are. Especially the kind of English that would help a Brazilian to befriend an English-speaking foreigner. What kind of films do you especially like to watch, Uver?”

  “I like to see very masculine men, with muscular bodies and large cocks, naked, fucking each other. Fucking each other so hard that it is sometimes painful for the man who is being fucked, and yet he does not want the other man to stop. He begs for more and exults in his friend’s use of him. Do you know what I mean, senhor?”

  “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. But we’d better change the subject, Uver, because I can feel myself becoming distracted again. I’m beginning to develop such an erection that I may accidentally knock over the table, and the board.”

  They fell silent again and concentrated on the game, which didn’t prevent Sebastien from losing. He was not actually checkmated, but he realized he was out of viable moves.

  “I concede,” he said graciously, making the traditional gesture of turning his king onto its side on the board. “You are a good player.”

  “Thank you. You are a worthy opponent. The next game will be the decisive one?”

  “Yes. Let me get us a refill. Let’s play drunk. I’ve never played drunk before. It ought to be interesting.”

  “The forfeit, senhor, ought to be interesting, too,” Uver predicted, with a grin on his face that was dangerously close to a leer.

  “Yes, I must think of something particularly humiliating to command you to do,” Sebastien said as he mixed the drinks.

  “Ha! We will soon see who is the commander, and who is the one commanded and must obey the command, senhor.” Uver’s speech was now ever so slightly slurred.

  Sebastien, who was once again white, played the third and final game with a brain increasingly befogged by alcohol. He played aggressively and recklessly, with predictably disastrous results. He lost his queen early on, followed by several other of his pieces, and soon found himself checkmated.

  “Damn it, you’ve won.” He giggled. “You’ve beaten me, fair and square.”

  “I’m glad to see that you are a good loser, senhor.”

  “I’m a very good loser, as you’re no doubt going to see for yourself, very shortly. I’m also good and drunk.” Sebastien stood up and downed the rest of his current drink. Uver rose, too. “Come on,” Sebastien invited. “Name your forfeit. Claim your prize.”

  Uver closed the short distance between them, taking Sebastien in his arms and kissing him. Sebastien opened his mouth and kissed back with whorish abandon, sticking his tongue deep inside the other man’s mouth. They could taste the whiskey on each other’s breath as the ground their crotches together.

  “You shall be my prize. I want to fuck you, senhor.” Uver breathed against Sebastien’s cheek, after breaking the kiss but keeping their faces pressed closely together. “I want your ass!”

  “It’s yours,” Sebastien moaned.

  “I want to fuck you the way they fuck in those porno films. One man pounding his cock into the other one’s hole until he writhes and moans, but still he begs his fucker to fuck him harder and not let up.”

  “I’ll moan. I’ll beg. I’ll beg for it, beg you not to stop…come on!”

  Sebastien seized Uver by the hand and led him from the game room. Fuck! he thought as they stumbled along the seemingly endless hallway together, barefoot. Why does the bedroom have to be all the way on the other side of the house!

  It seemed to take forever for them to get as far as the vestibule, where they paused beside the statue of Saint Martin of Tours for another kiss and grope, the floor tiles cool beneath the soles of their feet. The house was silent—no one was about. Sebastien wondered if Estevao had in fact gone to bed. He led Uver along the other hallway, until they were finally in the master bedroom.

  Estevao, bless him, had closed the windows, drawn the curtains, and left a single lamp burning, the small one on the nightstand beside the bed. The bed was not only turned down—a small stack of clean towels was on the bench beside it, within easy reach of anyone occupying the bed. Trick towels, Sebastien realized. That sly little bastard Estevao thought of everything!

  “Naked,” Sebastien demanded, pulling Uver’s T-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up to his armpits. “I want you naked!”

  “I’m the winner,” Uver reminded him. “I’m the one who should be giving the orders, not you.” But he was good-naturedly pulling the shirt up over his head, and off.

  “You can give me all the orders you want once we’re naked and in that bed.” Sebastien was feverishly divesting himself of his own shirt and pants. Uver, he was delighted to discover, wore no underwear. Uver pushed his jeans down to his ankles, stepped out of them, and joined Sebastien beside the bed—with his cock already grasped in his hand, the thumb stroking the thick head in a teasing motion that was resulting in a full erection.

  “Hurry,” Sebastien urged as he literally jumped up onto the
bed. He reached toward the nightstand lamp.

  “No, leave the light on,” Uver told him.

  “Whatever you say, senhor,” Sebastien retorted. “You’re the boss!”

  “You will see that I will be a lenient one…as long as you work hard to satisfy me, and give me what I want!”

  “I’m a better fuck than I am a chess player,” Sebastien promised.

  “You’d better be!”

  After this prolonged build-up, Sebastien had anticipated that Uver’s lovemaking would be on the basic, primitive side. Instead, the other man was aggressive enough, but in a playful way—he was almost cuddly. Being in bed with him was rather like wrestling with a bear cub. Not that Sebastien was disappointed. Wildly aroused, he gave Uver as good as he got, as they rolled back and forth over the broad mattress and used their hands and mouths to entice and provoke each another.

  Sebastien was sucking Uver’s cock when Uver reached down and tangled his fingers in his hair, caressing Sebastien’s scalp as he sucked. Sebastien placed his own hand on Uver’s wrist and increased the pressure of the palm on his head, silently urging Uver to get a little rougher with him, to fuck his face. After several more enthralling minutes of nonstop sucking, Uver gripped Sebastien’s hair harder and pulled his panting mouth off his cock.

  “I don’t want to come too soon,” Uver apologized. “And we agreed to a fuck!”

  “Yes. And I keep my bargains. Fuck me whenever you’re ready, Uver.”

  “You are very passionate in bed. I like that. Do you like my dark skin?”

  “Yes. It’s very exciting.”

  “I am glad. I have the heat of the tropics stored up within me, you see,” Uver boasted. “Rub against me too much, and you may get scorched.”

  “I’ll take the risk.”

  “You, on the other hand, are very pale. Perhaps a good, hard fuck will put some color into you…unless you faint, because you cannot take it.”

  “Try me.” Now it was Sebastien’s turn to boast. “We will see who can take it, and who faints from exhaustion first!” Sebastien opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom.

  A few minutes later, Sebastien was on his back on the bed, with the pillows shoved under his back to raise his butt, and Uver on top of him, with Uver’s cock shoved up his ass. Uver’s strong hands were on Sebastien’s shoulders, holding him down, and he was leaning over Sebastien, kissing him violently, while his cock stroked ceaselessly back and forth inside his writhing body. Sebastien had locked his ankles together behind the small of Uver’s back, holding his fucker firmly against him while they humped.

  The dark-skinned stud seemed to be tireless, and insatiable. He fucked Sebastien for long minutes on end, without letup. He would pause to catch his breath, or to wipe the sweat from his forehead, keeping his cock firmly planted in Sebastien’s ass. Uver would look down at Sebastien and smile, lean over to kiss him—and then the fucking would begin all over again, each time, it seemed, more ferociously than before. Sebastien came, helplessly, at one point, spurting his semen between their bodies in a miniature geyser. Uver grunted with satisfaction at the sight, but kept pounding away inside Sebastien’s body—while he used one hand to wipe the cum from Sebastien’s torso and transfer it to his lips.

  “Ah, I love the taste of sweet, hot cum, mestre.” Uver moaned, licking his fingers clean. “And yours tastes especially good.”

  “I want yours, too,” Sebastien pleaded. “Don’t come inside me…when you’re ready, pull out, and shoot it off in my face…in my mouth.”

  “Like in the porno films?”

  “Yes. The come shot, or the money shot, as we say in English.”

  Uver tantalized him for several minutes more, until he, too, could not hold out any longer, but had to come. Gasping, the Brazilian withdrew from Sebastien’s ass and stripped the condom off his cock, flinging it aside. The two men coordinated their movements, Uver straddling Sebastien’s chest while Sebastien slid down between his legs. Uver’s cock pointed directly at Sebastien’s open, eager mouth and erupted, in one hot stream after another of slimy white fluid. The sperm splashed across Sebastien’s nose and cheeks before he pushed his face forward and engulfed the exploding cockhead inside his mouth, drinking the jism directly from its source.

  They lay together afterward, slowly calming down, kissing and caressing.

  Uver reached up to the headboard of the bed and toyed with the necklace dangling from the carved griffin’s neck. “A love charm, senhor?” he asked.

  “Yes. At least that’s what I was told it was. I may have been sold a bill of goods.”

  “You do not need it. You can lure men to your bed all on your own.”

  “As I lured you?” Sebastien teased.

  “I was not lured,” Uver protested. “I came here of my own free will. Well…lured to some extent, perhaps, by that little devil, Estevao.”

  “You and Estevao are good friends?”

  “The best of friends. If you can keep a secret, senhor, I will confess to you that I prefer Estevao to all of my other lovers. He’s a good fuck. Although I must admit it can be tedious when all you want to do is go to sleep, and he keeps saying ‘But I want you to do it again!’”

  “I’ll try not to make that mistake with you, Uver. As much as I’d like you to do it again, I’m willing to let you get some rest.”

  Uver, Sebastien was delighted to discover, had no qualms about accepting an invitation to spend the rest of the night in his bed—the two men snuggled down contentedly together. Sebastien turned out the bedside lamp, and drew the mosquito net curtains.

  “Won’t the other men notice, if you are gone from the bunkhouse all night?” Sebastien asked.

  “Of course. When someone is absent like that, we tease him, and indulge in extravagant speculations about where he spent the night. But there is a certain line which is not crossed. Men understand such things.”

  “Very sensible,” Sebastien commented, with a yawn.

  Uver kissed him, and hugged him tighter. “Go to sleep, mestre. Boa noite.”

  “Boa noite, Uver. Thank you for the chess game.”

  “Thank you, for being such a good loser.”

  “And for being such a good fuck?”

  “For that, too.”

  Chapter Fifteen:

  A Wrestling Match

  “Will you ride with me tomorrow morning, when I go to inspect the herds?” Cristiano asked Sebastien the following afternoon.

  “Yes, I’d be happy to. I suppose we’ll get an early start, as usual? At dawn, right after breakfast?”

  “Yes.”

  “Join me for breakfast, then.”

  “It will be my pleasure.” Cristiano hesitated. “Perhaps…?”

  “Perhaps what?”

  “We could persuade Estevao not to accompany us, for once. I would enjoy having you all to myself, Sebastien, for a few hours.”

  “Yes, that would be nice. It would give us a chance to talk, and to become better acquainted. But I can’t imagine how I could possibly persuade Estevao to stay behind. He’s extremely possessive.”

  “Not unlike a jealous husband,” Cristiano suggested with a laugh.

  “Precisely. Well, let me give the matter some thought, Cristiano. I may be able to think up something.”

  And he did. Sebastien waited until that evening, when Estevao was puttering about the bedroom, putting away Sebastien’s clothes and tidying up after his master in general—a task he liked to reserve for himself, instead of delegating it to one of the maids. Sebastien had a sudden inspiration.

  “Estevao, in the morning, Cristiano is going to take a look at the herds, and I had thought I might go with him,” Sebastien said, taking care to speak as casually as possible. “I’m not sure whether I will, or not. I’ll decide in the morning. I had thought that, if I do go with him, I might entrust you…but no, Estevao, it’d probably be too much to ask of you, too great an imposition.”

  Estevao fairly leaped into the trap. “
Oh no, senhor, you know I am ready to do whatever you ask of me.”

  “Well, it’s something I could probably do for myself, some day when I can find the time.”

  “What, senhor? What is it you need to be done?”

  “It’s just my clothes, Estevao. When I packed for my trip down here, I didn’t anticipate staying here this long. I did buy a few things in Belém. What I’d like you to do is make an inventory of my wardrobe. Everything. What needs to be repaired, what should be replaced—and, most important of all, what additional items I need. Then, of course, we’ll have to see how I can go about getting them. I suppose we could order things from Belém, to be sent here.”

  “Of course, mestre. And several of the women here on the fazenda are expert seamstresses. They could make you almost anything that you require. Shirts and undergarments, certainly.”

  “What an excellent idea.”

  “And, if you will permit me, senhor Sebastien…?”

  “Yes?”

  “There is also the question of senhor Gilberto’s clothes. I was always most careful to keep them in excellent repair. Many of them could be altered to fit you.”

  “I suppose so, Estevao. I must say that, where I come from, we are not in the habit of wearing…well, used clothes.” Sebastien, for some reason, did not want to say, a dead man’s clothes, although that was what he meant.

  “Oh? Is everyone in North America so rich they can always afford new ones?”

  “Well, no,” Sebastien admitted. “You have a point. It does seem foolish to have closets and drawers full of perfectly good clothes going to waste. Do you think the employees would be offended if they were asked whether they could use some of my uncle’s things?”

  “On the contrary, senhor Sebastien. They would be most grateful.”

  “And there must be poor people in some of the villages, who could use good quality used clothes,” Sebastien mused. “I’ll have to discuss it with the priest, in Guarás. Very well, Estevao. While you are at it, you can start looking through my uncle’s clothes. Decide which things might be suitable for me. This is going to be quite a big responsibility,” he added, fighting back a smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind undertaking it?”