“Today you will teach me how to keep the cattle together from on horseback, and how to cut one cow out of the herd, the way the vaqueiros do,” he told Estevao at breakfast.
“Willingly, senhor. But you should ask Cristiano to help us. He is very good at such things. You might as well learn from the best.”
Cristiano turned out to be a tough, no-nonsense teacher, but an efficient one—at the end of their session, he told the weary, sweating Sebastien that he had done very well—for a norte-americano, on his first try.
“You will be saddle sore tomorrow, senhor,” Estevao, who had participated in the training session, predicted.
“Nonsense,” Sebastien blustered, trying to ignore the ache he could already feel in his thigh muscles. “I’m perfectly at home on a horse.”
“Well, if you aren’t already, you will be, when I’m done with you,” was Cristiano’s diplomatic response.
In the evening, Sebastien and Cristiano had dinner together.
“I enjoyed being with all the others, yesterday,” Sebastien remarked. “But this—just the two of us—is nice, too.”
“Yes, we can speak freely together,” Cristiano said. And they did, about a number of topics, some business-related, some personal—and some more intimate than others. Sebastien took advantage of this opportunity to tell Cristiano about his discussion with Reymundo.
“A ménage,” Cristiano said, thoughtfully. “An arranjo da casa. Or, to put it another way, your own private stable of studs.”
“That’s a rather crass way of putting it,” Sebastien protested.
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, primo. I find the idea strangely exciting. Under your tutelage, I have begun to rethink many things I once took for granted, or never gave much thought to. And an arranjo da casa might be the only way to keep that roving eye of yours under some sort of control.”
“Yours has been known to rove just as freely and just as widely, from the tales I’ve been told,” Sebastien said.
“But now I am no longer a foolish young man. I’m ready to take on the responsibilities of a mature man,” Cristiano boasted. “And that, as I see it, includes loving fewer men…but more intensely.”
“Men? No women?”
“I’m too much in love with you to think of women any longer. For the time being,” Cristiano added.
Sebastien laughed. “Very flattering.”
“Now tell me, in all seriousness…who might become the other members of this trio or this quatro that you propose?”
“You, of course, as the ‘first among equals,’ as the phrase goes. Estevao, of course. We both love him—there’s no point in either of us pretending otherwise, as annoying as the rascal can be sometimes. As for a fourth member…well, in all honesty, I had thought of Uver. He and Estevao like each other. And I like Uver, too.”
Cristiano smiled at him. “Uver. Interesting. I have never been intimate with him.”
“Would you like to be?”
“Yes. He is very masculine. I like him—as a man and as a friend. I imagine I would like him even more as a lover. But we are assuming he feels the same way about me, and we may be wrong about that.”
“False modesty doesn’t become you. I’m sure Uver finds you extremely attractive.”
“We have ourselves a plan, then.”
“Apparently so.”
“There remains only the question of how best to carry it out.”
“Leave that to me,” Sebastien said. “After all, it falls within my provenance. I am the mestre—“
“—Of the fazenda, yes.”
“Yes. I am responsible for the well being of my men.” Sebastien adopted a tone of mock haughtiness.
Cristiano emitted a somewhat less-than-respectful snort. “It promises to be a full-time job,” he retorted. “No wonder you need me to assist you.”
“You’re my right-hand man.” But this time, Sebastien spoke quite seriously, and to illustrate his point, he reached out and rested his hand on top of Cristiano’s, on the tablecloth. Cristiano twisted his wrist so that he could clasp Sebastien’s hand, palm against palm, and squeeze it tightly. They smiled at each other.
“Let’s go outside,” Sebastien suggested when they had finished their meal. “Let’s go for a little walk. I need to stretch my legs.”
Cristiano arched his eyebrows. “You are already feeling a little stiff, perhaps? So you are saddle sore, after all?”
“Shut up, primo. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s an ‘I-told-you-so.’”
Cristiano laughed. “Come on, vaqueiro. We will walk.”
There was once again a full moon, high in the sky, casting a subtle light over the lawn.
“What a beautiful, clear night,” Sebastien observed. “The second in a row. A good omen, perhaps.”
“The rainy season is almost over. Soon the winter will come. Our winters here, primo, are very different from what you must be used to, in the Northern Hemisphere. Here, the air will be warm and dry. The rains will be much more intermittent, and not as severe when they do come. The flood waters will recede. The earth will burst forth with greenery. There are some plants that bloom only at this time of the year. The island will be transformed.”
“You make me eager to see it for myself.”
“Will you? Will you stay here to see it?”
“Yes. I can delay my going back to New York for a few months. I can delay it for as long as I wish to, really. And when I must leave, I will return as soon as possible—as we agreed last night.”
“You will be here with me, then. We will be together.”
“There are a lot of things I need you to teach me. I’m counting on you to turn me into a real wrangler.”
“Sebastien,” Cristiano breathed. “There is something I have not told you. On Holy Saturday, while I was staying with my mother—I sought out Padre Valentin, and I spoke with him about us.”
“Really? About us? And what did you tell him?”
“That I love you. It is no more or less than the truth.”
“And what did he have to say to you, in return?”
“He set my conscience at ease on one point.”
“Namely?”
“That my desire for you is no more sinful than my desire for any other man. Our blood relationship need not deter us.”
“Ah…but the alleged sinfulness of sexual relationships between men…are you telling me that need not deter us, either?”
“According to the good padre, we are commanded to love one another. He who does that has fulfilled the law.”
“Padre Valentin has some extraordinary convictions.”
“I respect his opinions. Sebastien. You will trifle with me no more. I must have you again. I must be with you. You must be mine. Today, being with you, working with you—thinking about last night—my desire threatened to overwhelm me. But this time we will not use only our hands and our mouths on each other, like foolish young boys. We will make love like men, holding nothing back from one another.”
“Wow. You express yourself rather forcefully, Cristiano—”
“I am prepared to express myself not only with words, but with actions.”
“I bet you are. But before we get too carried away…you know perfectly well, primo, that I haven’t exactly been celibate since I came here to Saõ Martinho. I’ve been whoring around with Estevao, and with some of the other men.”
“You have amused yourself. Continue to amuse yourself, if you wish. What you and I will be to each other from now on—that will go far beyond mere amusement, I promise you.” Cristiano stood there, his arms at his sides, his hands clenched into fists, his chin raised stubbornly—looking, for all the world, as though he was proposing to fight, rather than to fuck.
“Now, look here, Cristiano—”
“I am looking at you. Enough talk. Speak plainly. Do you want to make love with me again, or not? Do you want to ‘go all the way,’ as you say in English, with me, or not?”
“You kno
w damn well I do. Only—”
“Shut up, then.” Cristiano spoke harshly, but he mollified the edge in his voice by flashing Sebastien a smile. He reached out, thrust his hand inside Sebastien’s open shirt, and fingered the gold chain Sebastien wore around his neck. Cristiano pulled the crucifix free of Sebastien’s shirt and hefted it in his palm.
“Swear again, as you did last night. Swear, this time, that you will be mine tonight,” Cristiano whispered, his eyes burning into Sebastien’s.
Sebastien put his own hand around Cristiano’s, raised it to his lips, and kissed first the crucifix, then his cousin’s hand.
“I solemnly swear that I will be yours tonight,” he said. “But what about tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that? Aren’t you concerned about that?”
“No. Tomorrow must take care of itself. I am content. Listen. I must go to the bunkhouse, to give some of the men their instructions, for first thing in the morning. Get rid of Estevao, make sure he will not interrupt us. Then I will come to you.”
“Come to me quickly, don’t keep me waiting.”
“Yes, soon. Soon.” Cristiano touched Sebastien’s cheek, and then he turned and hurried away.
Sebastien went indoors, in a daze.
“I won’t need you any more tonight, Estevao,” he told his valet. “I’m very tired. Go to bed and get some sleep.”
“Yes, senhor. I will turn down your bed for you, first, though.”
“All right, do so.” Suddenly, Sebastien felt a surge of affection for Estevao. It was as though his lust for Cristiano rendered him hyperaware of the desirability of other men in general. “Estevao,” he said as he gave the younger man a light caress. “Have I told you, lately, how very fond I am of you?”
Estevao grinned at him. “No, mestre. But it is not necessary. I need no words.”
“Nevertheless, it’s true.”
Estevao suddenly looked serious. “If you asked me to, mestre, I would forsake all other men, and give myself only to you.”
“You might find that a difficult promise to live up to,” Sebastien warned. “I know I would—find it difficult to have only one man in my life, I mean. And luckily, perhaps, I don’t ask you to make such a sacrifice.”
“No?” Estevao sounded relieved.
“No,” Sebastien said, with a smile. “I don’t ask for the impossible—and I try not to hold others to a higher standard of behavior than I set for myself. Now, go to bed,” Sebastien repeated. He gave Estevao a quick kiss and went into the bathroom.
He took a warm shower, scrubbing himself thoroughly from head to foot. Making himself ready, he thought, for a lover. But not just for any lover. For his cousin, his beautiful, exciting, and very manly cousin. As he dried himself, he felt almost feverish with anticipation, his pulse pounding.
Naked, he went back into his bedroom. Estevao had indeed turned down the bed, and turned off the lights except for the small bedside lamp. He had gone into his own room and closed the connecting door. Good boy, Sebastien thought. Good boy. He was developing an erection. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and forced his stiffening cock inside them. His rebellious member tented the soft fabric out in front of his groin. Oh my God, Cristiano, Sebastien almost moaned out loud, barely able to sustain coherence thought. Hurry, oh hurry!
And then, mercifully, as though in answer to a prayer, one of the windows opened wider, and Cristiano entered through it. The two men stared at each other for a long moment.
“Don’t talk,” Cristiano said, in a barely audible tone of voice. “Don’t you dare say anything. Take off those pants and get on that bed.”
Yes, sir! Sebastien thought as he obeyed, quickly shedding the sweatpants and stretching out nude on the bed. Whatever you say!
Cristiano, in a series of methodical, unhurried movements, closed the window behind him, tossed aside his hat, and chose a chair, sitting down and pulling off his boots and socks. He stood up again, unbuttoned his shirt, and tugged his trousers down. His cock was as hard as a branding iron, itching and aching madly as he stepped out of his pants, slid down his boxer shorts, and started for the bed, nude except for his own crucifix, suspended between his pecs. His meaty, swaying hard-on slapped either inner thigh muscle at random while his balls swayed and jiggled together. Sebastien felt the cool, smooth sensation of the cotton top sheet slide over his knees and lower legs as he moved on the mattress, making room for Cristiano to slide into bed next to him.
Without a word, Cristiano reached over and placed his hands firmly on Sebastien’s thighs, pulling him down completely onto him. The young bearded man started licking his cousin’s hot belly, driving the tip of his tongue like a spike into the tiny hole while his hands clamped down on the fleshy buttocks. His beard scraped in ticklish friction across Sebastien’s smooth skin, making the young master almost laugh between his gasps.
Cristiano was giving his cousin and lover a tongue bath, slathering his saliva over his jutting nipples, sliding into the narrow valley between his tanned, hard and fully rounded pecs, then moving across the muscular shoulder to the biceps only to return and slide down the center of the other man’s chest to the navel once more. Sebastien shuddered and gasped, his fingers working into the wrinkled sheet as he raised his knees and moved them back and forth over Cristiano’s protruding cock. His toes fanning out, he used his legs as a second pair of hands, jacking off his cousin while he silently pleaded for Cristiano’s mouth to go lower.
Cristiano understood, slipping back while stretching out his arms and placing his hands on his cousin’s inner thighs. Gently he pushed them apart, lowering his head to the musky, black-haired crotch below. He regarded Sebastien rather solemnly just before he took the rounded cocktip between his lips.
“What are you looking at?” Sebastien asked, softly.
“You. You, of course. What else?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re so beautiful.”
Sebastien flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “I’m a sweaty mess,” he protested.
It was no exaggeration. He was breathing so laboriously that he felt as though he was in danger of asphyxiation. His massive chest heaved up and down as he struggled for breath, while glistening rivulets of perspiration trickled from his broad neck down over his brown nipples to his belly.
“Yes, you are,” Cristiano said.
“You needn’t agree quite so readily.”
“You look like a man. You smell like a man. You even taste like a man. Men sweat. I like that. I especially like…the taste of a man.” Cristiano licked the very tip of Sebastien’s cock, teasing him, making him quiver in helpless response to the light, fluttering pressure. “I like your taste,” Cristiano specified, before he stopped talking and got down to serious work.
Sebastien heard Cristiano inhale sharply, and then Sebastien sucked in his own breath with a rasp as he felt Cristiano sliding his lips down over his hot, thick meat while he moved his left hand down to Sebastien’s groin and lifted first one ball, and then the other. Sebastien groaned, abandoning his groin to his cousin, letting him work on his genitals with his busy fingers and lips.
Cristiano sucked in more and more of that meat, his cheeks puffing out while he squeezed the coconut-shaped sacs as if they were sponges, then rolled them from side to side while his tongue flicked and swirled around that throbbing rod.
Sebastien cried and shouted, his body jerking while his hands lifted and shot forward. For a guy whom Sebastien had labeled as essentially straight up until only a few weeks previously, Cristiano certainly knew how to drive another man right up the wall. Sebastien pushed his cousin’s head up off his cock, gasping out that he was close to coming. He had felt the tingle of incipient orgasm pulsing away inside his dick even before Cristiano had walked in the door, thinking about the young man and his thick, powerful body sliding over his. The reality had done nothing to make his lust subside!
Cristiano obeyed, rocking back on his knees while he lightly caressed his cousin’s smooth
, long legs.
“I’m not a very good cocksucker,” Cristiano apologized, bluntly.
“Nonsense. You’re doing fine.”
Cristiano smiled at him. “And I will do better, with practice.”
“You said something about us making love tonight, like men,” Sebastien reminded him.
“Yes. We will fuck,” Cristiano declared. “I will fuck you, and then you will fuck me. If not tonight, then next time. We will possess each other, in that way.”
“We sure will, if I have anything to say about it,” Sebastien said, smiling almost in a smirking way as he looked up at Cristiano. “Let’s not just talk about it. Let’s do it. Fuck me! Please!”
“My pleasure,” the young cowhand answered, bending forward from the waist while sliding his big arms under Sebastien’s raised knees, moving them up until they brushed against his upper legs.
He slid forward, pushing Sebastien’s legs up at the same time and rolling his ass back until the tight, brown bunghole was pointing back at Cristiano’s stiffened prong.
The young Brazilian stud rested Sebastien’s ankles gently on his shoulders, dropping his hands to his cousin’s buttocks and moving them around the silky, damp flesh. He caressed the taut buns, kneading them between his thick fingers, then slid his hands over the stretched balls until he was fingering the tight asshole.
“We need a camisinha,” Cristiano whispered.
“We’re going to need more than that,” his cousin retorted. “We’re going to need plenty of lubrication, if you expect me to take that horse cock of yours up my ass! In the top drawer of the nightstand. Hurry.”
Cristiano, who was closer to the nightstand, moved a few inches to the left, reaching out and retrieving a condom and the tube of gel from the drawer.
“Hurry,” Sebastien urged, his lustful impatience making him revert to English for a moment. “Get suited up. Quick!”
“’Suited up?’ Is that one of your strange norte-americano expressions?”
“Yes.”
Sebastien waited in an erotic agony while Cristiano pulled on a rubber and slicked himself up. Cristiano dropped the tube back on the nightstand and moved forward toward Sebastien, obviously meaning business, His cousin stared at his cock. Through the thin sheath of taut-stretched latex, the thick-veined prong pulsed visibly under its glossy coating of lubricant.
Brazilian Cattle Baron (Siren Publishing Ménage and More ManLove) Page 47
