Sugar-Coated Hot Pepper

* * * *

I roamed the party on my own for a while, returning smiles and touches and gently pushing away grasping hands. Lopez had told me that my duties weren't over, that Cruz was resting, and not to leave the party yet. I didn't know what else they had in mind, but I didn't particularly care. Cruz might have had the biggest cock I'd ever taken. I didn't mind having another crack at it. Even with all that preliminary digging and opening up with his fingers, it had been a challenge to sheath the cock. But he'd made me take him to the hilt. It was an accomplishment to crow about. And it deserved an encore.

I was walking aimlessly about, reversing when it looked like I was entering the orbit of a big bruiser who was giving me the eye or when I saw a sweet young honey pot I wouldn't mind spiking myself when I saw him. Manuel was coming out of house, hefting a tray of drinks. He was in a skimpy Speedo, but it hit me that he was there as a waiter. He had told me he worked part time with a party caterer. Still, I was trained not to believe in coincidences.

I caught his eye. He gave me a look of surprise and then a sensual little smile. We both paused, not knowing what to do next. He recovered before I did and nodded with his head toward the interior of the house. He put his tray of drinks down on a table just outside the glass doors into the house, turned, and was gone.

I followed him into the house. I saw him at the foot of stairs leading up to the second story. When he saw that I'd come into the house, he mounted the stairs to the second story and my eyes followed his cute, rolling buttocks. When I reached the top of the stairs, he was standing down a hallway, in front of a door. When he saw me reach the landing, he turned and went into the room.

The room he went into was a bedroom. He was lying on his back on the bed when I entered. He'd stripped his Speedo off and was lying with his legs spread and bent and his hand on his hard cock. I came down on top of him on the bed, slapped his legs even more open, thrust inside him, and fucked the shit out of him.

It was a while before we got to my favorite part—him playing the role of the undone virgin. He was flat on his stomach, angled on the bed, one arm drooping off the side of the bed, an expression on his face that managed both grimace and walking on the clouds. I was riding his ass, stretched on top of him in pushup position and doing pushups on his ass. His moans and groans egged me on to take him harder, deeper—to pop his man cherry. It was all very arousing.

We parted with his promise to come out to my car after he'd finished helping with party cleanup and to come back to my apartment with me. I didn't have long to think about what I'd do with—to—him that night in my own bed, because Lopez and Cruz found me and hustled me to yet another bedroom, one outfitted more in keeping with Lopez's kinky sexual interests.

I was bound to the bed, my arms stretched wide above me and restrained at the corners of the headboard, and my legs spread and raised, manacled by restraints at the ankles on straps suspended from the ceiling.

As if his cock wasn't big enough, Cruz fucked my ass with the biggest dildo I'd ever seen, while Lopez crouched over my chest and fed his cock into my mouth.

"Hold steady. You'll want to hold steady, Chaz," Lopez whispered to him as he crouched beside the bed, feeding a sounding rod into my cock. At the same time Cruz was feeding his monster cock into my ass channel. While, yes, holding as steady as I could, I let my mouth scream the pain-passion of their attention to my body.

The finale was a double, with Lopez under me, my spread-eagled and restrained body stretched on his, my chest pointed up and with Lopez's hands on my waist and his cock in my ass. Cruz knelt between my spread thighs, his knees on either side of Lopez's thighs, forced his cock inside me above Lopez's buried staff and pumped me to a three-way creaming.

"Attend us downstairs in the Library after you've cleaned up," Lopez said, as he unbound me. He'd already gone off and showered while Cruz was still fucking me. Cruz was gone as Lopez freed me, though. "The library is on the front of the house, down the stairs, to the right of the door into the front foyer," Lopez told me in a quite calm voice as he left. No "Good job" or "You were great." I'd done his work, and that was that.

When I entered the library, dressed in the clothes I'd come to the party in, sure now that the fucking was over and I'd earned the $500 Lopez had agreed to pay me, I'll have to say I wasn't surprised at what I found. The two men were sitting in chairs pulled up at two sides to a mahogany desk with miles of surface. A third chair was pulled up to a third side. All of the chairs were facing a laptop monitor. Lopez motioned me to sit in the third chair and focus on the laptop. I noticed that Cruz was now in some sort of khaki army uniform, his shoulders bursting with gold stars.

We watched the scenes being shown on the laptop for several minutes without anyone saying anything: Cruz fucking me in the pool; me fucking Manuel on a bed; Lopez and Cruz fucking me on another bed.

After the show had gotten into the third scene, I said, "So?"

"So, Chaz," Lopez said, "Daniel here isn't really Daniel. He's a general in the Cuban intelligence service. What do you think about that?"

"I'm flattered," I said. "I didn't think I'd rate more than a colonel."

"You seem awfully cool, Chaz—if that's your name," Lopez said, with some irritation in his voice. "Do you understand what sort of bind you're in now? We know you are CIA. The CIA doesn't exactly approve of their employees engaging in activities like these videos show. Look at that poor young man, Manuel. Why it looks like you're raping the young man. He may not even be a young man to someone watching the tape and being told he isn't. He may be just a boy."

"So, all of this is about blackmail?" I asked.

"It would seem so," Lopez answered. The general gave a snort. "What we would like for you to do is to work for us—for Cuba. That doesn't seem to be asking for much to not share these tapes with your employers."

"Is that it?" I asked, standing. "Tell me, how much does Manuel know about his part in this?"

"What do you think?" the general responded and gave another snort.

So, Lopez, who I thought might be an Argentine, was Cuban, and Manuel, who I thought might be Brazilian, might be Cuban. And the Cuban general I never gave a thought to in origin definitely was Cuban. Wonderful.

I got to the door to the foyer, and they both started to rise to, I don't know, follow me? Restrain me? Shoot me? Fuck me again? I didn't wait to hear. I stopped them momentarily by saying, "I suppose I'm not going to get the $500 you promised me either."

They looked at each other and laughed. "No, Chaz, you aren't getting the $500 I promised you," Lopez said and then he turned his head to me, but I was already gone, making a dash for the door.

I had the front door open before they came out of the library. The general was unbuckling the gun holster under his arm.

"Before you think of doing that, general, you might take a look out front. It's just a guess, but I'll bet you didn't enter the country legally. That thing that looks like a derelict barge off the coast? Is that your yacht by any chance?"

Men in black were coming in as I was leaving. "I was a bit ahead of you, Hector," I said before I turned and left. "I called my guys on Thursday, and they hightailed it down here to join the party." I didn't bother to tell the Cubans that Langley wouldn't give a shit about any sex tapes they saw on me. That was my job at Langley—creating sex that looked good on tape. I'd let the two Cuban spies contemplate that one while they sat in a U.S. prison cell.

The next night, I heard the buzzer to my apartment go off down in the street and took a few minutes to prepare as I saw Manuel's mug in the street door camera shot.

I watched from the landing as he wound around on the stairs and landing up to the fourth floor. We'd done this before—in more happy circumstances. They certainly were more innocent circumstances on my part.

He was trembling when he entered the apartment and went directly on his knees in front of me. What could I do? I let him suck me hard and then I took him into my bedroom and fucked the stuffing out of him. It seemed to be what he wanted. It certainly felt good to me.

As we lay there afterward, he gave me an innocent little look with his eyes and said, "You'll have to help me. The Cubans will be after me. They'll say I informed you. They used me, and I didn't know what they were doing."

He'd just done the innocent, open and vulnerable virgin performance for me again that he was so good at. I enjoyed it immensely.

I called out that we were ready, and two agents dressed in black entered the bedroom. I'd ushered them in there when I'd seen that it was Manuel who had buzzed from the street.

"These men will give you protection," Manuel. "They'll take you somewhere. They'll ask you questions. You'll be safe with them one way or the other. What eventually happens with you is probably up to how good and convincing you are with your answers."

He was still bombarding me with innocent sheep eyes when the two agents were taking him downstairs. I sort of regretted seeing him go. You don't often come up against a sugar-coated hot pepper like him. I, in fact, liked him so much and wanted to believe him so much that I'd go check out the next day if he really was enrolled at the Key West College of Yoga in India. If so, I'd continue to check from there. If not, well . . .

That left Sam Winterberry who then entered the living room from the spare bedroom.

"I think you're safe enough here, Clint," he said—Clint being my name of the post-Cuban general caper operations. "But if you want, I could pull you back to Washington now."

"No, thank you," I said. "I rather like it here in Key West." I was already thinking about the café on DuVal Street and how I was going to snarf up a table for two the next time I was there when the café was otherwise jammed. "And you," I said. "You starting back to Washington now?"

"No, I think I'll stay here for at least the night. In your bed . . . with you." He gave me a pointed look.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," I answered. And I certainly did.