Psychic Detective 36 By: Jake Preston
This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes recreational, sometimes spiritual, and almost always described explicitly. My attention is equally divided between narrative, character development, and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there are many other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think about donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response!
Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com
Chapter 36 Waterhole Follies
On Maundy Thursday, Salvador, Göran, and Jack went over Jack's flash-drive case notes on Albino. They compared crime scene details with police records about serial killings in Yucatán. As the day went by, they developed a camaraderie which, Salvador said, he hoped would not be abused if he asked them for a very special favor. "I've got a casita, a cottage on the Gulf, a twenty-mile drive north. I'd like you to spend the night with me there. Your friends can join us on the beach in the morning."
Jack and Göran agreed.
"There's something else you want to ask, Salvador," Göran said. "Don't be shy."
It wasn't like Salvador to be reticent, but this time he was. "It's a little embarrassing," he stammered.
"Then we're agreed in advance," Jack said, "and now you must tell us what we've agreed to."
"It would be my honor if you two would allow me to spank you erotically... nalgadas eróticas, it's a fantasy I have that ...." Salvador's request was directed mainly to Jack.
"You've got it, Salvador," Jack interjected, leaving it up to his imagination, and Göran's, whether Salvador was a cangreja novato or a cangreja experimentado.
"But on one condition," Göran said. "We've got to take Xiu with us. With Albino on the loose, I don't want him left alone. He can be a cangreja or an azotado, or just an observador- a spanker, a spankee, or a spectator- whatever he wants, but he must come with us."
Salvador agreed.
The proposal caught Xiu by surprise, coming from Göran, in his eyes an unattainable Apollo. Of course he agreed, and why not? In any group of guys, he was accustomed to being the smallest. Traveling beachward in Salvador's car, Jack rode shot-gun while Göran and Xiu took the back seat. The foursome spoke of Yucatán, the scenery, the acrobats from Papantla, anything to keep their minds off Albino. Their plan for the evening's entertainment wasn't discussed, either, until anticipation and flooding testosterone brought the subject of sexual spanking into their discourse. Xiu fixed his gaze on Göran's tight thigh, imagining its muscular hardness under the fabric of denim. His musing was interrupted by a sexy conversation in the front seat of the car.
"Are you nervous about this, amigo?" Salvador asked Jack.
It wasn't really a question, but Jack answered it anyway: "How could I not be nervous?"
-Tengo un par de paletas de ping pong en mi equipage, Salvador said with spattering emphasis on the four Ps, 'a pair of ping pong paddles', with a fifth P in the luggage, 'equipage'.
Jack returned Salvador's glance with a silenic smile punctuated from above by two prominent dimples. He guided Salvador's hand to his thigh. "It's yours if you want it," he said.
"I don't know how to respond," Salvador replied. His reticence was not entirely insincere. What was he but a mortal, like Admetus when he was admitted to Apollo's shining playground?
"Just say yes," Jack laughed.
"Yes, please," Salvador replied, mindful of manners.
Jack guided Salvador's hand between his legs and over his basket, then back to his thigh again. "Do you want to spank this?" he asked.
"Yes, please."
Jack smiled. "Do you want to spank and spunk?"
"Yes, please," Salvador said, and then asked, "What is 'spunk'?"
"Spunk is when you shoot sperm up my culo," Jack said.
"Yes, please."
"What are you guys planning up there?" Göran asked.
Jack glanced back. "Just giving Salvador a lesson in English," he said.
"Well, tell him to keep his eyes on the road," Göran said. He winked at Xiu, who moved closer. Göran offered him his hand. The connection was tentative, but promising. Xiu decided that he liked American men. He had fucked Jack. His silent flirtation with Göran was promising. He had never been lucky with macho Mexicans, who looked askance at a short-statured Maya lacking an ounce of Spanish blood.
Salvador's cabin was hidden in a pine-wooded copse just beyond the sand-line on the beach. From the picture-window in his parlor, when pine-boughs shifted in sea-breezes, one could peer at the beach and a current-sogged sun-brightened sandbar that reminded Jack, who was educated at Emory, of the sandbar on Jackson's Island where Tom Sawyer, his bosom- buddy Joe Harper, and his outlaw-buddy Huck Finn played at 'pirates', 'circus clowns', and 'wild Indians' in a boyland between Slavery and Freedom in a prelapsarian moment before the illusory clouds of Free Will darkened the scene and the outlaw among them (he alone) chose the freedom of Illinois, if only by predestined accident while exploring the Island again for the first time, as if he had never been there before, only then encountering Nigger Jim, quite unexpectedly, and set out with him on a raft of adventures in waters more deeper and dangerous.
From this pine-wooded prospect a tall pallid malevolent stranger fixed his gaze on Waterhole Follies. The naked foursome jogged through loose sand and immersed themselves in the whiteness of surf. All four men looked youthful to Albino, although one of them was older... the detective from Mérida. He watched the young men floating on their backs, white bellies brilliant in the sun. They didn't' ask who seized them fast in the water. They didn't seem to notice which body puffed and declined, pendant and arching, beaded with water. They didn't seem to care who they soused with salty spray.
"Have you ever wondered how swimmers got from point A to point B before the Australians invented the crawl?" Jack asked no one in particular. His Emory education hadn't dampened his innate sense for irony.
"I thought the Lakota invented the crawl," Göran laughed, and ducked Jack under the water.
Vultures are like eagles, as the ancient Greeks knew when they couldn't decide of Prometheus's liver was ravaged by one or the other when he was chained to a rock below Scythian seacliffs. A vulture is like an eagle in another way, too: he doesn't like to share a tree. Atop his bark-boned fiefdom he sits like a solitary monarch of all he surveys. So it was unusual to see two vultures sharing a branch on a pine overlooking the beach north of Mérida; unusual, but necessary, because in epic tradition, always spirit-birds perch in pairs on a branch and chatter about human affairs. In the light of late afternoon, two pairs of vulture-eyes fixed on Albino, whose eyes were fixed on Salvador the Mexican detective, who should have been looking for shark-fins but was gazing on Xiu, who gazed on Göran and Jack sporting in the water, oblivious to the multiple gazes of man and bird.
Albino fancied himself a death-spirit, the 'Snatcher'. How happiless did he visage seem! When he breathed, the piney fragrance of shoreline turned pestilential, souring even the surface of the sea with his sinister souflation. Drawn to young men in groups, he was, from which he snatched only one, the better to inspire terror in the others. At Uxmal his attention was drawn to a group of Maya guides. He chose the most vivacious one as his object of homicidal obsession, but his purpose was foiled when Jack took a liking to him and swept him off to Mérida, as if on a magic carpet. Albino didn't like that, but it wasn't the first time his plans were foiled. He could be flexible. Now he found a new group, four men on the beach north of Mérida. Which one did he like best?
Albino's thoughts drifted back to Lake Ashawa. One time he saw a mother duck swimming along the shoreline, trailed by eight ducklings. Suddenly, in an almost inaudible splash, one of the ducklings disappeared, snatched by a snapping-turtle that lurked below in the muck. The other ducklings scattered randomly, chirping in tinny duck-peeps of terror while Mama Duck herded and hustled them into deeper water, across the bay to the rocky safety of an island. How Albino admired that turtle, not for devouring a duckling but for terrorizing the others! A murder in solitude was easy. Anyone could do that, but snatching a victim rom his friends was fair game for a hunt.
Which swimmer did he like best? The homeliest of them looked beautiful. The Maya magician had slipped through his fingers by a frivolous flirtation with Jack; perhaps he didn't deserve the honor of being sacrificed by the Death-Shaman. If he took Göran or Jack (he knew who they were), his triumph would be spoken of in three states, but the victory would be hollowed out by the fact that they had no law enforcement authority in México. If he took the detective, Mérida cops would swarm the beach. It was a logical equillopence: no choice seemed better than any other. In the absence choice, maybe he should settle for the opportunity of the moment. The detective's attention was riveted on Waterhole Follies. He (Albino) could act now and the guy wouldn't see it coming. Albino stepped out of the brush and stood at the edge of the sand-line. He walked a few steps toward the detective who stood duck-naked.
A vulture swooped down and stood in the sand, midway between the detective and the surf. A fish-corpse lay at his feet but the vulture ignored it and looked past the detective to some unknown figure near the copse. Just then, a second vulture swooped down and stood a few yards away. The villainous ghastly lanky white humanoid creature stepped back into the brush. The detective caught a glimpse of him, but then his gaze shifted seaward, beyond the follies of Göran, Jack, and Xiu. Caught between a white devil and the deep blue sea, Salvador called out, "Tiburón, tiburónnnn, tiburones!" Xiu translated his call for the others: "Shark, shark, sharks!" Two dark fins circled in the waves as the men swam toward the safety of the beach. They circled in closer. Göran was the last man out of the water. A few yards behind him, the fins and the top dark-gray part of a shark was visible, but it was only white surf that clutched at his naked thighs as he jumped out of reach. While this was going on, Albino escaped through the greenery copse and out of sight.
"Did they say anything?" Jack asked when Salvador told them about Albino and the vultures.
"Did who say anything?" Salvador asked. "Albino?"
"The vultures, did they say anything?" Jack repeated.
Salvador looked at him quizzically.
"Some species of birds can take on human voice," Göran explained. "Whenever that happens, the Lakota believe them to be human spirits, come to deliver a message from Manitou, unless they're on a private mission. That's what Jack told me, anyway."
"I heard no human voice. Only gulls mewing," Salvador said.
They trudged through the dry loose white sand on the part of the beach that was beyond the reach of the tide. Jack and Salvador took the lead, walking side by side. Jack was telling Salvador not to worry about missing his chance to catch Albino, because (he said) he'd have another chance at Chichen Itza. Salvador was skeptical: "How can you know that?"- and Jack was saying it was because of the vultures. In some mysterious way they communicate with Göran, he was saying to Salvador. Anxious to avoid this conversation, Göran kept behind them and walked a slow pace so Xiu could catch up with him.
Xiu looked at Göran's body and saw that he was partly tanned by the sun. He seemed a tabula rasa that was beginning to accumulate colors snatched from the beach. He hoped that Göran wouldn't lose the silvery glisten that seemed to radiate from his skin. Göran's posterior nudity in motion inspired admiration in Xiu, and a glimmer of desire. He dared not feel lust in the absence of a sign that it might be returned. Jack would have laughed and said "Go for it!" But there was no way he could be Jack. In their water-follies, Xiu had handled Göran's body, grasped his legs, probed his inner thighs, but then they were three boys frolicking. Their walk on the beach, away from the sharks, felt like a transition to grown-up same-sex desire. A voice in his head whispered: "Stop playing the foolish virgin. Light the oil in your lamp." It felt like a telegraphic message from Jack. He and Salvador burst out laughing. What were they talking about now? Were they sharing a conspiratorial joke about erotic spanking? How godlike of Jack to submit without losing an ounce of apollonian dignity!
Xiu caught up with the object of his admiration. He wondered if Hand Schmidt looked like this in posterior nudity. Hans was a blond, blue-eyed German tourist whom he had courted at Uxmal. They made a connection and an agreement to meet in the evening at the bar in Hans's hotel on the perimeter of the ancient Maya ruin. Xiu had arrived promptly and nursed a Negra Modelo for two hours before calling the front desk on his cellphone to send a message to Hans's hotel room. He spoke in English to mask his identity. "I'm sorry, Señor, but the only guest by that name is a Mrs. Gertrud Schmidt in a single room," came the courteous reply. That was two summers ago, and anyway, Göran was better looking, better mannered, and, more important, present on the scene. Gay man can sometimes be cruel to each other for no apparent reason. Göran wasn't like that.
Xiu wondered at Salvador's easy possessiveness toward Jack, who accepted the relation and encouraged it, but there were some things he didn't know. Salvador had admired Jack from an unattainable distance, too, but after working with him on the mystery of Albino, they developed a friendship in which Jack was approachable and attainable; inviting, in fact. Jack didn't just fall into Salvador's arms. For two days they courted. Salvador unlocked the doors to the Policía in Mérida and gave him the help that he needed. They had already planned an official visit so Salvador could study policing methods and public relations on the reservation in Lakota, followed by a week's vacation at Wayward Island Resort on Lake Ashawa. Salvador's anticipated conquest of Jack wasn't a sudden appropriation. I had to be earned.
Xiu's musing was interrupted by voices overheard. "Will we be exchanging partners?" Jack was asking, and Salvador responded, "We shouldn't. The main point about erotic spanking is to form an intense bond with your partner. Pain is given and received for the sake of bonding. That requires mutual concentration. An exchange of partners would be a distraction. Of course, if I'm outvoted, well,...." The rest of his sentence was lost in a gust of wind on the beach.
Xiu noticed that Goran's ass-cheeks had matching dimples that pooled and bobbed when he walked, accentuated by the effort of trudging loose sand. Jack looked back for a moment. "Xiu thinks you're out of his league," he said to Göran.
"Thanks," Göran said, surprised to be in a league. Modesty came to him as naturally as courtesy and kindness. He stopped in his tracks, butt-naked strut-brazen, and glanced round to give Xiu a provocative smile. Xiu was three or four steps behind. Seconds later his index fingers fondled the matching dimples in Göran's supple ass-cheeks. While Salvador and Jack walked ahead, Göran parted his legs theatrically to make a show of the valley between two moons reflecting afternoon sunshine fringed with remnants of dried sea-salt. So many sexy details go unnoticed in life, but not by Xiu on this occasion.
Xiu accepted Göran's quiet invitation. With two fingers he traveled a path from the base of his spine down the curvature of his cleft. Approaching the portal, he discovered a soft furriness in the tracery, from which tiny specks of sea-salt flaked from his fingers. His intercursal hairs were delicate and light, visible on close-up inspection, a task that Xiu performed gladly, determined (as he was) to omit none of the anatomical secrets of Göran.
Not the least of which was a rosebud-pink palpitating aperture, so virginal in appearance (for Xiu was accustomed to brown) that the Maya magician imagined Göran as a wild Röselein waiting for defloration. The sting of Hans Schmidt's elaborate snub, which for two years had taunted his injured psyche and made him feel unworthy of the Germanic giants he admired, vanished. In this brief episode, imagined as a contest between two sorcerers, Göran had bested him by banishing a dark shadow of self-doubt, for the tall blond American was in some sense a magician, a Xiu instinctively knew. Göran sighed without flinching when Xiu grazed the rose- bud ridges and inserted the distal phalanx of his fuck-finger, gaining just enough leverage for a turn of the screw. Jack and Salvador crossed the sand-line and vanished into the copse where they followed the trail to the cabin, but for the moment, Xiu was preoccupied with the anatomical trail that led to the penetralia of Göran, whose cock responded in almost full-flag erection.
Seeing no one else on the beach, Xiu withdrew his finger and gave Göran a swat on the rump.
"Oooo, that smarts!" exclaimed Göran, not without a glancing smile directed as Xiu, who administered a second swat, and a third, and a fourth, to Göran's bottom. Göran ooooed without flinching. His cock throbbed in Xiu's left hand. With his right, he delivered a battery of blows to Göran's ass-cheeks, until they looked like two white moons that blushed with palm-broad rivers of redness.
"Don't make me cum," Göran said gruffly. He took Xiu by the hand. They trudged side by side to the sand-line. Then Xiu followed Göran up the narrow trail to the cabin. Lust came to him, watching the moving parts of Göran's curvaceous butt, and Xiu realized that his star-struck admiration was not incompatible with same-sex desire. Admiration from afar was no bar to possession.
On the one-man-at-a-time trail, Göran turned around and faced Xiu. They stood between a white-blooming sac nicte and a red-blooming xukul nicte, Yucatecan terms for 'flor de Mayo' and 'tulipan chino'. "About the adventure before us, it's my first time," Göran said. "I'm glad we're doing it together. I couldn't ask for a sexier partner. I wanted to say that before we join the others. We got thrown together by chance because Salvador and Jack chose each other, but if I were free to choose, I'd choose you."
They clasped each other's butts. Göran stooped to engage his cock with a swordfight with Xiu. Göran wanted to say more and it was Xiu's responsibility to make that possible. He broke off a sprig of white blossoms from and planted it above Göran's right ear. "In Yucatecan mythology, the sac nicte signifies virginal sacrifice to a dominant partner," he said. "The xukul nicte signifies a dominant partner's passion and loyalty."
"You Tarzan, me Jane," Göran said, somewhat glumly.
"That's part of it," Xiu replied. "The white and red blossoms are gifts of trust in all shared secrets, including sex."
"I'm pledged for marriage to Jésus," Göran replied. "If I give you these red blossoms, it would mean you beat him to it in the passion of the moment."
"The bond can't be broken, and it's more than friendship, but nothing prevents you from having two husbands. If we exchange flowers, it means that we're united in mutual equality, no matter what sex roles we play. If you sub for me, the red flower means that I am bound to you in equality, even in my most secret thoughts."
Göran broke a spring of red blossoms from the xukul nicte and planted it in the fold above Xiu's right ear. He broke another for Xiu's left ear. "Now you are two times my dom," he said.
"Does that mean I get to breed you?" Xiu laughed.
"It does," Göran said evenly.
Xiu thrust his hand between Göran's legs and watched his eyes widen when a fuck-finger probed the rose-budded garden up to the middle phalanx, and wriggled like a vanguard platoon in preparation for the invasion of innumerable micro-soldiers who already were stirring and edgy for release from their encampment in Xiu's scrotum. "I will breed you," Xiu declared.
"In that case I'm game for a game of spank and spunk," Göran said.
No equivalent term could be found in Spanish or Yucatecan, so Salvador and Jack adopted 'spank and spunk' as the name of the game they would play, not without gleeful reflection on Salvador's part that he would bet to breed Jack, too. Breeding seems more erotic when it's decided beforehand, getting the recipient to agree to it in the pure light of reason. For a bottom, the intensity of coitus is enhanced by gender-bending transgression and keeping a promise reluctantly made. For a top, pleasure is enhanced by anticipation and the fulfillment of phallic potential. No longer dispatched into onanist exile, his multitudinous soldiers troop forward to colonize a new anatomical world, their DNA absorbed into another man's bloodstream.
Göran and Xiu got questions about the flowers in their hair. It was Salvador's business, and Jack's, because they had made it part of the game. "Red is for dom, white is for sub," Göran said matter-of-factly.
-Bueno saber qu'estamos en el mismo equipo, Salvador said: "Good to know we're on same team. Stick with me and we'll make these boys squirm in exquisite submission.
They engaged in foreplay (or was it fourplay) until Göran and Jack said they were ready. Salvador said they were naughty boys for swimming with the sharks- a spanking offense. "What about you?" Göran asked Xiu. "You were swimming with the sharks, too!"
"Your insubordination will get you punished in double measure," Xiu replied while he kissed Göran tenderly.
"In that case, what are you waiting for?" Göran asked defiantly. The truth is that Xiu was too kind-hearted to be a persuasive azotador.
"So many ways to sin around here," Jack pitched in. "You can punish me for talking to the vultures, for all I care."
The unrepentant sinners were taking out to the balcony and lined up at the railing. Ass- arched they stood while Salvador delivered a resounding swat to Jack's rump and Xiu did the same to Göran. Other swats and smacks resounded in the dusky air of the beach. The only other sound was the sea. Afterwards, Jack and Göran knelt and sucked the cocks of their azotadores. They were lined up again for another bruising.
"We must swat only their butts, always with an open hand. It makes lots of noise without doing injury," Salvador reminded Xiu. Göran's white ass reddened with palm-sized marks of Xiu. "Good job!" Salvador said, and wolf-whistled.
"Do you want to see what I'm getting? Göran's ass is amazing," Xiu said to Salvadore. "Open the gate to paradise," he said to Göran.
"Yes, master," Göran said. He was getting into this 'dom-sub' thing. He spread his legs and ass-arched. Salvador closed in for a look.
"It's a tight sweet pink little rosebud," Xiu said. "It looks even better in daylight when you can make out the colors, like a pink button on a white pillow-cover.
"I've got a flashlight," Salvador said. While he went inside to fetch it, Xiu stood between Jack and Göran and administered apertureal probes with his fuck-finger. They tightened their sphincters synchronically.
"Good to see that our boys are getting into a compliant mood," Salvador said when he returned with his flashlight and KY, and that's not an abbreviation for Kentucky. "You boys get closer together. Let's take a look at brown-eyes first."
Jack spread his legs and arched. Xiu held the flashlight while Salvador examined his hole. "Spread it spread it apart with your fingers and you'll see a reddish inner ring, surrounded by aureole-brown," Xiu said. Salvador inserted a KY'd finger into the limpid hole.
"Xiu's already been up there," Jack said, always looking for a new way bait Salvador. "Göran's fascination with Xiu will cost him a groaning."
Now they examined Göran and saw that his colors were entirely different from Jack's. "Pink as a rosebud, like you said," Salvador exclaimed. "A butterfly-hole, pink as pussy. This one's a mariposa-in-waiting."
"Don't let him get to you, buddy," Xiu whispered in Göran's ear, loud enough for the others to hear.
"Want to see what's going up there next?" Salvador showed Göran his lube-glistened finger. "It's all about ass. We mustn't let our boys forget that." Since Salvador had appropriated Göran, Xiu serviced Jack while they finger-fucked in a synchronic rhythm and Jack kept an arm around Göran's shoulder while they kissed. The sounds of Yucatán graced the scene: orchestral cicadas, the never-ending murmur of the tide, the rustle of trees in a breeze. The occasional bark of a dog in some distant house could be heard only between tidal murmurs when the wind died down.
"Let us commit to memory the shape of these tight little assholes," Salvador said, "the better to compare them to the anal gapes they'll be showing after we've fucked 'em."
Spanking resumed. For that they returned to their designated partners. Göran's rump reddened as before, but Jack's Lakota skin absorbed the blows without a trace. Tears ran down Göran's face, but he neither flinched nor cried out. Jack's innate stoicism made him a more difficult subject. He showed no emotion at all.
"It's not a test of manhood, Jack," Salvador said. "We're in a safe space where you can set manhood aside and experience alternative sex. Do it for Göran. He's on the edge and ready to cross over.
Swat, swat! "You'll have to hit me harder than that if you want hear me cry out," Jack said. He did. Jack yelped. Then Göran cried out, as if he had been given permission to make some noise. At first it was just a performance, part of the drama. Then they started yelping and howling spontaneously.
Time for a break. Salvador and Xiu comforted their partners and gave them permission to kiss their armpits. Axillingus was followed by another round of spanking on the balcony. Then Salvador and Xiu took their places at the railing and arched. "Get down there," Salvador said. Jack and Göran knelt for analingual performances, their tongues synchronized by tidal rhythms.
It was time to retire to the bedroom. Göran and Jack lay facing each other, half-kneeling with their butts on opposite sides of the bed. Xiu and Salvador administered nalgadas eróticas in synch while Göran watched Salvador spanking Jack and Jack watched Xiu spanking Göran. Tears rolled down Göran's cheeks while his ass-cheeks reddened again. Jack yelped and cried out, not for himself but for Göran. The spanking wasn't getting harder. Quite the opposite: Salvador thought that Xiu was hitting Göran too hard and cautioned him to tone it down. "The accumulation of blows, not severity, that will make them submissive," he said. Then Salvador had another surprise: two matching vibrators, with which Göran and Jack were rewarded.
Over-the-knee spanking came next, difficult to manage with athletic hunks like Göran and Jack, but they toned down to it. In that position the blows came down gentle, but more personal and more erotic. They alternated between prone-spanking and over-the-knee spanking, taking vibrator-breaks in between.
"We're waiting for you to tell us when it's time to use the paddles," Salvador said. "Then we can fuck."
"I didn't know it was up to us," Jack said.
"It was always up to you," Salvador said. "You could have stopped us at any time. In a proper domination game, the sub is always in control."
"Now he tells us," Göran said glumly.
"I think we're ready now," Jack said. "That vibrator has swelled my prostate and given me blueballs, not to mention an itch up the culo."
Salvador tossed Xiu one of the ping pong paddles. They sat at the side of the bed. Jack got into position over Salvador's knees. Göran did the same with Xiu. "Make sure the paddle comes down flat on the butt," Salvador said. "We don't want the edge of the paddle to hit them. Start out gentle and don't smack them hard. You've got more strength in your arm than you realize. Now's not the time to use it."
Even after these cautions, the paddling-session evoked yelps and howls from Göran and Jack, and American idioms that would have seemed extreme to Xiu and Salvador if their native language had been English- "Fuckin' sonuva bitch! Fuck you too, bastard! Goddamn muthahfuckah!" Vulgarisms in any language seem benign to foreigners.
One last time on the vibrator got them aching for cock. It was not yet to be, for as Salvador said, "we've still got to paddle you prone on the bed." They assumed their positions. More swear-words and howls followed. Göran's butt was as red as the surface of the ping pong paddle. Jack showed some marks, too. Suddenly, Salvador gave a signal. He and Xiu tossed their paddles aside and jumped their partners. Penetrated simultaneously, Jack and Göran let out a unison howl that would have reminded a North Country denizen of timberwolves across a field at night. The fucking started out rough but turned gentle, as Salvador and Xiu strove to prolong the joy of intercourse while Jack and Göran, still facing each other, semi-embraced and kissed.
Xiu flipped Göran and missioned. His army of miniature soldiers would not be delayed much longer. Sensing this, Göran let himself orgazz. His jizzy fragrance wafted from between their bellies and filled the room, adorning their makeshift cathedral of Manlove with the odor of same-sex sanctity. Xiu shot a ocean of cum into Göran, but he had so much energy pent up that he flipped his partner and fucked him again, intercursally. This time it was Salvador's turn to follow Xiu's lead. He and Jack missioned and spooged, but between them it was Jack who got a second wind. Göran prevented him from jacking off. He motioned for Jack to mount from behind. Jack and Göran rediscovered the joy of loving each other, an aspect of their friendship that they had too long neglected.
So it transpired after parallel play that each man had a different experience. Salvador fucked the man of his dreams. Xiu fucked the man of his dreams, twice. Göran got fucked three times, by two men. Jack got fucked, and fucked in return. No one had cause to complain about the boredom of 'spank and spunk', although neither Göran nor Jack could confirm that they would play this game again anytime soon.
"We'll talk about that when I visit you in Lakota," Salvador said. "One thing I know about gay men: they always come back for more."