I finally got home 'bout 11 o'clock and I knew damn well that my boy, Pepe, would be pissed. I hadn't called and I'd switched my fuckin' mobile off, both of which would have had him half-mad, half-scared.
I wheeled the AC Cobra into my big drive. I've gotta nice place, like I said before, the dungeon business is a big money business, when you do it right. The lights were still on and I made no pretence 'bout creepin' in, Pepe would be waitin'.
I entered the kitchen, dragged an ice cold Bud from the chiller and walked into the lounge. Pepe was waitin' for me, naked but for a little thong, watchin' one of his wrestlin' movies. You know the stuff, cute oiled bodies, hard cocks, winner gets sucked by the loser, type crap.
"You been out whorin'," said Pepe, accusinly. He's so fuckin' pretty when he's mad! He's a 22-year-old Puerto Rican, dark hair, cut quite long, lovely black eyelashes, deep brown eyes, smooth, shaved body, well muscled, of course, super buns, with an eight inch circumcised cock. A very pretty cock.
I came across him at a movie star's place up in the hills. She had hired him with the idea of layin' all over his body and 'bout two or three days in found he was more partial to a bit of man meat, rather than some trashy little blonde bimbo.
I'd been called in to quote her for a torture chamber β seems she was runnin' a three-slave stable and needed a bigger room to wield her fuckin' whips. After pourin' me a cold Becks β all she had was fuckin' foreign beer! β we went out poolside for the initial chat.
First thing I saw was Pepe, workin' with some fuckin' great broom in the pool. He was bronzed and beautiful and I could see from the bulge in his tiny little Speedos that he was built for fuckery.
The movie star saw my look β she was a fuckin' bimbo, but she wasn't fuckin' stupid β and said: "That's Pepe, he's a big disappointment to me. He doesn't go for muff stuff, if you get my meaning, Leather Man, so I'm trying to move him on. Interested?"
I allowed as how I was, and after we'd done our dungeon business β she settled for a de luxe job β I had a chat with Pepe. Result was he moved in with me three days later.
Seems Pepe's daddy has lived here for years, used to play for the Giants β wrong league, for me, I'm an Angels fan for my fuckin' sins β and now he's a first base coach for the Padres. Fuckin' first base coach! I could coach first base!
Anyway, Pepe stares me down and accuses me of whorin'.
"Hey, Pepe, no sweat. Just a passin' fling. Ships that pass in the fuckin' night," I told him, peelin' off my clothes till I was nude and he could see my hard-on.
"Suck on this, while I explain," I told him. Pepe shrugged, slipped out of his thong to reveal a semi-stiff circumcised cock, and knelt by my chair. As he took my cock in his mouth, I stroked his head and explained.
"I been out to see a kid who's a slut for some big fuckin' poker player," I told him. "Kid's into whippin' and electro shock stuff. He's keen to meet you, Pepe."
Which was a fuckin' lie β not the whippin' and electro stuff, the "keen to meet you" shit - but Pepe occasionally likes to switch, makes a change from bein' my bottom all the fuckin' time. His mouth stopped suckin' on my stiffy and he looked up at me, with those fuckin' great puppy dog brown eyes.
"He'd let me play with him, Master Lash?" he asked, and immediately I knew he was no longer pissed with me.
"Sure, only I wanna watch," I told him. "I'll probably wanna give you a hand as well. Whaddya say?"
"Pepe says yes please," he said, and resumed his oral adoration. See, promise him some fresh meat and he's anyone's!
The next day, a sunny Saturday mornin', I told Pepe to get the pool cleaned and arrange recliners, that sorta stuff, so I could use the phone to Slut Boy out of his hearin'.
Slut Boy answered almost immediately. "Hiya, Slut Boy," I said, cheerfully. "When I got home last night I told my pool boy Pepe, all 'bout ya. He's keen to meet, like to play a few games, make ya sweat a little. Keen?"
Slut Boy wanted to know a little about Pepe, so I told him. When I got to the eight inches, cut, he caved in. I gave him the address and told him to call me from his mobile case he got lost.
He arrived within the hour in some stupid fuckin' little Limey car, a Lotus, or somethin', which he'd borrowed from a dealer who knows his fuckin' poker player benefactor back in London. A Lotus, I ask you - a fuckin' woman's car.
The lovely blonde boy climbs out of the piece of Limey shit, his muscles bulgin' in a white T-shirt, tight little beach shorts, boat shoes.
I was at the door in a little red thong, cock pushin' it out in front of me like a tent. Slut Boy stepped into the hall, and into my arms, and I had his T-shirt off and his shorts down in a flash. He kissed me eagerly on the mouth, his erection pressin' into my groin. "Where is he, Master Lash?" he whispered, all eager.
"Follow me, Slut Boy," I laughed and walked him through the house and downstairs to poolside. Pepe was vacuumin' the pool, in the nude and I thought Slut Boy's drool would never stop.
"Pepe, get here," I ordered, and the bronzed Latino looked up, saw the stark naked blonde and nearly ran to us, his cock joggling and jostling against his bronzed, shaved thighs.
"Hi Slut Boy, how's it hangin?" Pepe smiled, with one of his "Fuck me" smiles.