Dimitri had remained hard after fucking Ken Curtain on the lounge bed by the pool in the Anacapri villa on the Via Tuoro, and now Ken was riding his cock as he lay on the side of the pool, with his legs dangling in the water. From their vantage point at the top of the mountain on the Isle of Capri they overlooked the Bay of Naples on the north and the Tyrrhenian Sea to the south. The American novelist was grateful that, at thirty-nine, there were still men who wanted to fuck him, even though he had kept in shape and kept his looks and men thought he was several years younger than he really was. Still, it was a compliment that a man would prefer fucking a thirty-nine-year-old man when Altan kept houseboys much younger, like the current ones, Dario Rossi and Marcello Bianchi, at the villa for the guests to fuck. Ken liked to think it was because of the technique in the taking that he had perfected over the years of being cocked by very experienced tops. Nearly every man who cocked Ken complimented him on what he could do with the muscles of his channel walls while the man was inside him.
The way the master had explained it to him, Ken had attained the status of a courtesan. He was exciting to men at any age.
Dimitri Kuznetsov, the Russian, was in his mid-fifties, so Ken guessed he looked young to the man. Kuznetsov could have had Dario or Marcello when he appeared for the New Year’s party on the Isle of Capri, Italy, early, but he had chosen Ken. He always had. He’d been fucking Ken off and on, when he’d come to meet with Altan Hulugu on business, for the last eight years. Before he came to meet Hulugu, he always asked if Curtain would be there. To him, Ken never seemed to age—he just got more arousing by new positions and tricks he was forever learning.
Dimitri was hung and could be rough. He’d put on weight in those eight years, but he was still a muscular, hirsute, and ruggedly handsome man. And he had eight thick inches and an arousing mysterious and dangerous air about him, enhanced by the slicing scar zagging down his cheek and his badly set nose. Ken thought perhaps Kuznetsov was into illegal arms sales and transportation, but of course he never asked. He didn’t want to know. The man had been a character in Ken’s fourth book, Racing with the Devil, but the Russian probably wouldn’t see himself in the book, just as Hulugu wouldn’t see himself in the novel Ken currently was writing, The Greek Pimp. The Turk, Hulugu, would never see himself as a Greek named Apyko. Probably neither of the men would ever read the books anyway.
Kuznetsov could keep his eight inches up for hours—as long as Ken could continue gripping his cock and milking it with rippling passage muscles—when he came to Anacapri, just as Hulugu, now in his sixties, could keep his bigger cock up perpetually. Ken appreciated that about both men. He’d once thought that was because Hulugu was a genuine satyr, a trait that had won Ken to him and caused the American to let himself be brought to Anacapri and held a virtual sex slave for the last decade. Ken knew now that it was thanks to magic drugs Hulugu manufactured, peddled, and used illegally, just another facet of the illegal businesses the fabulously wealthy shipping mogul was involved in. Of course, the man had most of the other attributes of a satyr in addition to the perpetual hard on and capability of firing off prodigious blasts of cum every twenty minutes for as long as the man lying under him could handle it. Ken had handled it better than most for the past ten years. That’s why Hulugu kept him prisoner on Anacapri and nailed him every time he visited.
Hulugu kept the villa on Anacapri, essentially a refurbished ancient Roman villa older than time, as a meeting place for business with his shadier partners who couldn’t enter Italy legally. Hulugu regularly lived and worked across the bay in Naples. He met his secret business contacts here, on Capri, though, where his guests could come in to the small island off ships on the sea and leave afterward without a hint they’d been in Italy. There was no customs office on Capri, and, even if there had been, Hulugu would have owned the men working there—not just with money but also with granting them visits to his brothel on the mountain.
While they were doing business at the Anacapri villa, Hulugu made them very comfortable. He had both young women and young men, two of each, available for the guests to fuck. Hulugu had brought Ken Curtain to the island ten years previously and he too was available to men who wanted a more mature, experienced, and expert submissive. The villa was, in fact, two villas connected by a pool terrace, with colonnades running down each side, one presided over by Ken to the east of the rectangular terrace with covered open corridors on both the north and south and one on the west where Hulugu’s sister, Talia, reigned. Ken, closely watched by a younger, muscle-bound bodyguard and jailer, Musa Nadir, supervised the two local male prostitutes, revolving over the years, never more than twenty-one-years old, and Talia supervised the young women prostitutes. Musa followed Ken closely and fucked him regularly. The American had grown accustomed to the guarding and appreciated the fucking. The whoring was incidental to Ken, though. What kept him here were the sessions with the satyr, Hulugu, on top of him and inside him, hard and pumping cum for hours. He also was held here by being permitted to write in peace with every comfort of life he could want.
In addition to being the true manager at the Anacapri villa, Talia handled the secret accounts for the illicit side of Hulugu’s businesses. She was a tough woman, ruled the villa with an iron fist, and would not intervene early if a guest’s pleasure was to beat the villa prostitute he was fucking into bloody submission. She would, however, intervene before the goods were damaged beyond repair. Ken was accorded more protection than the frequently changing young men were. Talia knew he meant more to her brother than most men did.
New Year’s Eve 2009 was being marked at the villa by a party by invitation of some of Hulugu’s more important illicit business associates. The New Year’s Eve party was to be an extravagant dinner followed by an orgy. Ken had helped plan and supervise the festivities. Other than holding Ken as a virtual and not particularly objecting sexual slave, Hulugu had come to depend on the American as his host of guests on Anacapri. He was expected to service only the most important guests of those who wanted to avail themselves of the courtesan expertise he had acquired. Other than managing his side of the villa, always opening his legs to Hulugu, and servicing whoever else Hulugu wanted him too, Ken was free to write his novels.
Since Ken had left the best-selling novelist Clifford Langston a decade earlier, he had managed to continue writing novels and they were selling modestly well. Having all of his needs attended to, with occasional demands on his body, and being left otherwise to write as he wished were probably the major reasons he allowed himself to be sequestered on the Italian isle.
The difference between what he was writing now and what he’d written when he’d been with Langston was that Ken now had gained enough experience and confidence to be writing his own plotlines. Langston had given him the boost he needed, and Ken would never forget he had, by gifting Ken with plotlines to fill out, but now Ken could do it, if not as brilliantly as he’d been given credit for before, on his own. And he’d managed to keep his literary agent, Ted Sullivan, and his editor, Nathan Horowitz, in London at HarperCollins.
What he wasn’t permitted to do was to converse with either of these men directly. Talia handled all of the correspondence among the men. This, along with the ever-present bodyguard, Musa Nadir, was the most evident proof that Ken was essentially Hulugu’s prisoner. Horowitz had tracked Ken down just a few months previously as far as Naples, fortuitously arriving there and looking for Ken when Ken, accompanied by Nadir, was on a shopping spree to the city. The two had only had a few minutes together while Nadir was off taking a leak, to converse, and for Horowitz to confirm that Ken was essentially imprisoned and by whom before Nadir returned, beat Horowitz down, took Ken back to Anacapri. and slapped him around too before brutally sexually assaulting him for an hour. Ken would not acknowledge it, but it was the best fuck he’d ever gotten out of Nadir.
Hulugu was bringing in more entertainers for the New Year’s Eve party. There would be more whores than guests. Dimitri Kuznetsov had arrived early, coming off a Hulugu-owned freighter standing off Capri out to sea. He hadn’t fucked Ken for several months and was making up for lost time now. Ken held small boxes of presents Hulugu was giving to his guests. Ken had peeked in the boxes. They contained Hulugu’s very exclusive, very expensive, and very illegal potency pills. A half hour after Kuznetsov had popped his, he was on top of Ken on a lounge bed beside the villa pool. He was over eight hard inches up Ken’s passage and pumping, and Ken was lying under him, pressing his knees into the big, hirsute Russian’s hips, clutching at the bear’s biceps with his fingernails, lolling his head to the side, looking through the columned passage to the north toward the Bay of Naples, his eyes flashing and mouth yawning in the pleasure of being conquested by the brutal, pill-enhanced Russian.
Forty minutes after the liftoff from that invasion, Kuznetsov had swum twenty vigorous laps in the pool, come out of the water at the shallow end in massive erection, and Ken had pressed the Russian down on his back on the side of the pool, his legs dangling in the water. Ken saddled and sheathed himself on the shaft and was riding Kuznetsov in a slow rocking motion.
He felt the familiar hands on his waist from behind, and Ken realized Hulugu had arrived on Anacapri from Naples for the evening’s festivities. The satyr, standing behind Ken in the shallow water of the pool and in perpetual, upcurved, ten-inch erection, pressed Ken forward onto the Russian’s chest, worked his cock up into Ken’s passage on top of that of Kuznetsov, and while Ken panted hard and groaned, Russia and Turkey conquered America together.
After the fireworks from that, Hulugu, on his pills, still monstrously erect and quickly reloaded, did not leave Ken to rest. He held out his hand, and with ten years of knowing the fucking would go on and on, Ken took the hand and was led into the villa, to Hulugu’s bedroom there. As they moved, Hulugu snapped his fingers to the two young Italian men, Dario Rossi and Marcello Bianchi, and both followed them into the bedroom and to the bed.
Hulugu fucked all three of them.
He wanted to use the bureau in his room that afternoon. Pulling Ken off the bed and over to the low-slung bureau with a mirror behind it—there, in fact were mirrors all over the room so that both Hulugu and the man he was covering could watch the action from all angles—he put Ken in what was called the “afternoon delight” position, Hulugu standing on a low ottoman in front of the bureau, Ken suspended in front of the bureau, supporting himself with his palms pressed into the top of the bureau, and his knees drawn up to and outside his chest, which spread his thighs. His ankles rested on Hulugu’s shoulders and Hulugu bunched his fists behind Ken’s neck, and he thrust up inside Ken’s channel and fucked him and fucked him and fucked him. The dark and sultry Dario and Marcello watched from the bed.
Then Hulugu put Dario in the splits along the top surface of the bureau, supporting his torso with his arms stiff behind him, palming the bureau top, and Hulugu fucking him from in front. Ken and Marcello watched from the bed.
Marcello, who was tall and very slim, was made to grab the top of the mirror frame behind the bureau with his body streaming back past Hulugu’s hips. Hulugu held the young man’s thighs, inserted his body between them, and fucked Marcello from the rear. Ken and Dario watched from the bed.
Hulugu dismissed the two young men, saying that the guests were starting to arrive and they were to mingle and service them as the guests required. He kept Ken back, though, fucking him one more time. He utilized the bureau again, using the “booster seat” position, making Ken crouch on the top of the bureau, facing the mirror, and rocking back on Hulugu’s cock, with Hulugu embracing Ken’s chest with one arm and stroking him off with the other hand. Ken’s left arm was raised, his hand cupping the back of Hulugu’s head. Hulugu stroked Ken to an ejaculation that splashed against the mirror, but he continued fucking Ken until the young man collapsed in exhaustion. Hulugu let Ken’s body sink to the floor. Ken watched the satyr, still in erection, hobble out of the bedroom on bowed, pelted legs.
The man was in his sixties. Those were some powerful pills he was illegally making and selling. Then again he was as close to being a real satyr on earth as was possible. And it was because he could—and did—fuck like this that Ken hadn’t tried to escape from here over the last decade. Ken was thirty-nine and still being gloriously fucked. He didn’t want to give this up.
* * * *
Ken missed most of the cocktail party that proceeded the buffet dinner on the pool terrace after most of the invitees had arrived, because there was a Nigerian on his tail—quite literally, and a brutal one at that. He pulled Ken into the guest room that had been assigned to him. Luckily, the bodyguard, Musa Nadir, had seen this happen and lurked outside.
The man was huge, not just in height and wingspread, but he was heavy. If he’d been shorter, he’d be considered fat. Much of it was muscle, but he had a beer gut on him. Ken had been avoiding him even though the black man—not chocolate brown of any hue; about as black as a man could get—had been giving Ken the eye. Marcello had actually warned Ken about the man.
“I heard him talking to Hulugu. They have some sort of sex slave scheme going, I think—African girls up into France, where they are popular. And I also heard him ask Hulugu who the most sturdy whore boy was here.”
“And Hulugu said it was me, right?” Ken asked.
“Yes, thank God,” Marcello had said. Then he had blanched and said, “Sorry. I heard him trying to buy you.”
“Did you hear Hulugu’s answer?” Ken asked.
“Sorry, no, I didn’t.”
Ken was to find that the man wanted “sturdy” because he wanted to beat his prey down before fucking him. He’d sent Ken spinning around the room with broad-handed slaps, his hands then closing into fists, before Musa intervened, coming into the room when the Nigerian, with both of them stripped down, had a choke hold on Ken, was dangling him nearly off the floor in front of him, and had reared a hand back and made a fist to move on to putting Ken’s lights out so he’d have no fight in him for the fuck.
“Damage not allowed, Sir. Sorry. He is Mr. Hulugu’s favorite, he has to last the night, and there are more guests needing serviced.” The admonishment was no more demanding than that. Perhaps it couldn’t have been. Musa was one musclebound tank, but maybe even he could not have taken the Nigerian down. But, as the Nigerian would be interested in doing business with Hulugu, perhaps noting Hulugu’s interest in Ken was enough to cry the monster off.
Ken did get fucked. The Nigerian dropped him to the floor, started to kick him in the ribs but noted that Musa was still standing in the doorway, watching. The kick turned into a nudge with the foot to direct Ken to go up on all fours, which Ken did. The giant covered him from above, mounted and penetrated him, and fucked him good. Musa continued to watch until he could see that it had settled down to a doggie ride, and then he drifted back into the shadows.
There would have been agreement from Ken that the Nigerian fucked him good. He was a hung bull, and from the moment he had thrust inside Ken, Ken took over, making love to the cock, which the Nigerian enjoyed and thus forgot about needing to beat him down, and satisfying Ken too because the cock was so huge and the man knew how to fuck. After several minutes of the man enjoying Ken working his cock with the rippling and clutching of his channel muscles, the Nigerian wanted to demonstrate his power. He wrapped an arm around Ken’s stomach and pulled him up off the carpet, suspending him off the floor. The man’s beefy arms rose up, putting Ken in a full Nelson hold. Recognizing the position, known as The Bully, Ken wrapped his legs around the man’s thighs, crossing his ankles under the man’s buttocks and moving his hips, fucking himself on the cock. The Nigerian was impressed and didn’t show any more violence, enjoying Ken’s expertise and ending standing on the floor hovering over Ken in the missionary position, with Ken digging his feet into the edge of the foot of the bed and doing the rocking of his pelvis, fucking himself on the gigantic shaft. The Nigerian found Ken too precious to ruin by the time he was firing off.
Ken still didn’t want to know the man’s name or anything about him. He was losing interest in Hulugu too. If he was involved in sex trafficking along with everything else . . .
* * * *
He was introduced to Ken as an Englishman, Hugh Douglas, toward the dessert course of the buffet. Ken was immediately intrigued, and not just because he was built and handsome and had a great smile but mostly because even though he was introduced as English and had a British name, he sure as hell looked Asian to Ken.
“I’m in negotiations with Mr. Douglas on a new business deal, Ken,” Hulugu had said when he put the two together. “He says he’s interested in you.” This was something Ken had already figured out, as the intriguing man, who was probably younger than Ken by a decade, had been eyeing him as people moved around the buffet tables.
“Give him whatever he wants,” Hulugu breathed into Ken’s ear before moving away. “He says he wants you all night. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? You’ll have a ball being balled by him.”
He was, indeed, gorgeous . . . and exotic and unique. He stood well over six feet, with a dusky complexion and a muscular, but perfectly proportioned, body. He had the facial features of an Asian, but his eyes were an arresting hazel and he was undressing Ken, who was barely dressed in a Speedo, covered by a diaphanous, long-sleeved white shirt, with those eyes. His smile was infectious. He was dressed expensively, if casually, white linen trousers, covered by an iridescent blue and green open front shirt that looked like he’d just shrugged into it. Behind that was a deeply tanned muscular chest and washboard abs. A gold chain with a medallion, embossed with the symbol of gay double penetration—three male symbols, with the arrows of two of them embedded in the third one—nestled between his pecs. He wore expensive-looking leather loafers on his feet. The effect his clothing gave was that he could have it all off in three seconds and that, unwrapped, he would be a man to gasp for.
He, of course, was clearly signaling that he wanted to fuck Ken. But he wanted more from Ken than that. Ken wondered if he would be a cruel lover. Was he hung? Did the symbol on his medallion mean he would want to have help fucking Ken? If so, there were plenty of men at this party who would work with him on that. So would Ken.
“My father was English, but my mother is Thai,” he said, an amused smile on his face. “My life is split between London, where I manage the assets my father left me and Thailand, where I am in business with my mother.”
“I didn’t ask,” Ken said.
“But you wondered, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you approve of the result?”
“Of your business dealings?”
“No, of my father’s coupling with my mother.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“So, you will let me fuck you? Altan says you like men with big cocks. I have one. I also have a desire to put it in you—deep in you. I want to hear the breath escape from you as I move ever deeper and I want to hear you beg me to breed you.”
“You don’t believe in much verbal foreplay, do you?” Ken asked, but his laugh indicated that he wasn’t insulted.
“If I’m going to fuck you in all of the positions I want to, we don’t have time for seduction,” Douglas said. “It’s as simple as that. Are you that interested in putting on a tease rather than learning what I can do with your body?”
“I will admit I am curious what you can do with my body,” Ken answered.
“You’ll let me share you with another man?” He was fingering the medallion, making sure Ken had seen it.
“Yes, if that’s what Altan wants.”
“I’m interested in what you want.”
“I want whatever you want,” Ken answered.
“I run a tour agency from Germany—men wanting other men. I take them to Bangkok and make the necessary arrangements.”
“I didn’t ask about that, either.”
“But you wondered. You wondered what sort of business I was discussing with Altan that he would offer you for the night as an inducement to close a deal with him.”
“I suppose I was. And you think he offered me to you for the night.”
“I can read lips. I saw him tell you to spend the night with me. So, again, we can spar verbally, or I could be humping your ass. And as far as my Thai business, prostitution is legal in some forms in Bangkok. My business now is quite legal.”
“Prostitution?”
“Surely you don’t mind that. You’re a prostitute, aren’t you—a male whore?”
“Why do you say that?”
“How many men have fucked you today so far? And why have you let them do so?”
Ken had to think about it. “Three,” he answered. “But it’s New Year’s Eve and Altan is having a party here.”
Douglas laughed. “Yes, it’s New Year’s Eve. But you are letting men fuck you because Altan obtains an advantage thereby and bids you take their cocks. Is that not true?”
“Yes, that’s true. But if I don’t want to be with a man, I won’t be. I don’t understand why someone relatively young, as you are, is interested in me from among the picks here. Dario and Marcello, for instance, are young and fresh. Do you have any idea how old I am?”
“You’re thirty-nine,” he shot back, which put Ken on his heels. “And you’ve been a male whore since you were nineteen. But I understand you are considered a courtesan now, which makes you more alluring to a man like me.” How did the man know Ken’s age and background? He was vain enough to know he didn’t look over thirty. “I appreciate seasoned prostitutes,” Douglas said. “I choose older men like you—ones who have aged as well as you have—precisely because they are seasoned—that they can take the ways in which I want to use them and can take it up a notch in turn.”
“Fair enough. But what about the deal with Altan?”
“Altan wants to push it into less legal services.”
“I don’t understand why you are telling me this.”
“I want you to know while we’re making love that I’m not a bad guy—at least yet.”
“Making love?”
“Yes. Sometimes I fuck; sometimes I make love. I know some facts about you and have been attracted to you for some time. I want to make love with you.”
“You know something about me?”
“Yes, I’ve read and enjoyed all of your books. I’ve wanted to meet you because of your novels; I’ve wanted to have my cock inside you because I find your writing sensuous and I have masturbated to your jacket photos and to the fantasy of you riding my cock—and maybe you riding my cock and that of another man at the same time.”
Ken was surprised and flattered, and he wasn’t used to a man being this open with him—especially a gorgeous hunk like this Hugh Douglas.
“So, we are back to your interest in doubling me with another man.”
“When it comes to that. But first things first. I want to get you in bed and under me for beginners. I want to hear you yowl from what I put in you and for you to beg me to give you my seed.”
“So, you want to bareback me?”
“I’m not interested in taking a man any other way. I’m regularly checked and I understand you are as well. But if you want to talk about doubling as well, is there another man here you would like me to use to share you with? Altan told me he shared you with the Russian over there earlier today, so he’s not a fair choice.”
“Altan told you he doubled me earlier today?”
“Yes. He told me you melted to it. He gave me a stroke-by-stroke description. He says you can ride it out in ways that the younger prostitutes here cannot. So, there’s another reason for you why it’s you I wanted and not Dario or Marcello. They would suffer. You will enjoy it. And Altan told me what he did with you afterward. Altan wanted me to want you. He wants this business deal badly. He need not have promoted you as a sex partner, though. I was already sold on that.”
His matter-of-fact attitude was both intriguing and a bit irritating to Ken. He found himself scanning the terrace in spite of himself. He eyes landed on his bodyguard, Musa Nadir.
Douglas caught where Ken’s attention had landed. “That Turkish hunk there? The man whose muscles have muscles? You like muscular, thugish men? Is he hung? Has he fucked you before? Was he good?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Ken answered. “He’s my bodyguard, Musa Nadir.”
“Musa Nadir it is, then,” Douglas said, with an amused laugh.
“I didn’t mean—” Ken hadn’t meant the identification of his bodyguard as a partner with Douglas in doubling. But Douglas was moving on.
“Ah, the entertainment appears to be starting on the porch over there at the end of the pool. Shall we find a bed lounger before they are all taken?”
They found one off to the side, but with a good view of the stage area. Douglas lay on his back on the lounger and pulled Ken down on top of him, both of them facing the stage where young Italian guys, including Dario and Marcello, were initially dancing poles in very little and, eventually, nothing at all. Waiters came around with trays of drinks and pills. Douglas took one of Hulugu’s sustained erection and enhanced ejaculate pills and Ken took one that relaxed him, made him mellow, and made him tingle and shimmer wherever Douglas touched him, which was all over.
As the pole dancing segued into fuck acts on the stage, Ken was fully aware when his Speedo and shirt were pulled off him and cast aside and then when Douglas’s white slacks, bikini briefs, and iridescent blue-green shirt came off. He had been aware of the erection pressing into his lower back for some time.
No one around them was paying much attention to them. They were all watching the action on the stage and mimicking it with partners out in the audience. Douglas lifted Ken’s pelvis by palming the man’s buttocks in his hands and squeezing and separating them, spreading Ken’s hole, which was dilated from all the action he’d already had during the day, open, and settling it down on Douglas’s mushroom cap. Ken groaned as his passage slid down the throbbing pole, and Douglas held him in place in the position of the crab, while Ken used the leverage of his feet planted beside Douglas’s knees to rise and fall on the thick shaft, the muscles of his passage walls grabbing at and rippling over the hard-as-steel cock.
Douglas motioned for Musa Nadir to come over, whispered to him what he wanted, and then, after he stood beside the lounger and Ken sucked him into erection as he fucked himself on Douglas’s cock, Musa was straddling the lounger, facing Douglas and Ken, and working his erection inside Ken’s passage on top of Douglas’s buried shaft, and then Ken, trapped between the two dusky muscular figures, one half Thai and the other full Turk, lost his view of the stage and whatever was happening there. All of his attention was devoted to the two huge cocks moving inside him and to panting and groaning.
Douglas had been right. Ken did enjoy having the two big cocks churning together inside him.
* * * *
Ken had been given to Douglas for use for the whole night, and Douglas did use him for the night.
While Douglas and Nadir were fucking Ken together another man came over, sat on the neighboring bed lounger, and fondled the men with his hands. Ken recognized him as the Italian judge in Naples, Lorenzo Tufino, who Hulugu had in his pocket. The man was tall and slender, distinguished looking, in his late forties, but already with graying at his temples. He had fucked Ken several times over the previous decade. He had doubled Ken with Hulugu before as well.
“You would like to fuck him as well?” Douglas asked.
“Sí, molto—Yes, very much,” the judge answered.
“You have experience in doubling?”
“Sì, l'ho già fatto prima, con questa prostitute—Yes, I have done this before, with this prostitute.” Tufino touched Nadir on the shoulder, who, recognizing who he was, pulled out of Ken, rose from him and moved away. As Tufino was lifting his leg over the lounge bed to move into position, though, Douglas held him off.
“Perhaps it’s time to take this to his bedroom. The entertainment seems to have drawn to a conclusion and we’re becoming the entertainment.”
In Ken’s bedroom, on Ken’s bed, the two men fucked Ken again in a double, the Italian judge lying on his back, his legs dangling off the foot of the bed, and with Ken straddling his hips, facing him, and Tufino’s cock up Ken’s passage. Douglas came in behind Ken and between the judge’s thighs, pressed Ken down toward the judge’s hairy chest with one hand, rolling the novelist’s buttocks up, while putting his cock in position. He worked his cock in and then he and Tufino pumped Ken in unison for some twenty minutes before all, pill enhanced, were satisfied for now and Tufino had left for other pastures.
Musa Nadir looked in to check on the other two, to find them on the bed, stretched out in an entanglement of legs and arms, Douglas still in erection, and nuzzling each other. When Nadir looked in, Douglas was rearranging their bodies to put Ken into position for a side split. As Nadir withdrew Ken was arching his back, groaning, and taking the thick cock deep. It would be a long night. He’d only need to stay on watch duty for another hour or so until the two were too exhausted to move and then he could go to his own room and get some sleep.
Douglas was sitting at the foot of the bed, thighs spread, leaning back on his elbows, head arched back, moaning to the ceiling, as Ken knelt between his thighs and made love to his still-erect cock with his mouth and hands. At length, Douglas came up into a seated position, lifted Ken up onto his feet, and took the older man’s cock into his mouth, giving the submissive head in preparation to spiking him yet again.
And then it was Ken sitting in Douglas’s lap, facing him, while Douglas pulled Ken on and off his cock. Ken arched back, his head and arms on the carpeted floor, his arms stretched out in total surrender to the thick cock continuing to plow him. Ken had already come. After several minutes Douglas did too, pulling Ken’s chest up to his and holding him close, kissing Ken on the lips and throat and nipples.
“How many is that?” Ken asked.
“I lost count,” Douglas answered.
“So did I. You’re still hard.”
“And I feel I have more loads. Too bad Altan hasn’t taken those pills to the legal market. He’d make a fortune.”
“They’ll probably kill you tomorrow.”
“But there’s always tonight. How long has Hulugu been taking them? Have they killed him?”
“He’s not human. If you’ve seen drawings of satyrs . . .”
“I have. Is that why you stay with him?”
“In large part. That and he won’t let me go yet.”
“Yet?”
“I’m getting older, although he doesn’t seem to be aging. He increasingly is going with younger men.”
“And you regret that?”
“He does have the biggest cock I’ve ever taken and can keep an erection going forever.”
“I’m crushed.”
“Don’t be. You do very well. And speaking of—”
“Yes, I feel it too.” Turning on the bed, he laid Ken on his back and rolled over on top of him. He grasped Ken’s ankles and split and raised his legs, pushed his knees under Ken’s buttocks to raise the man’s pelvis to a good entry angle. He thrust inside the hole, and they were fucking again. They climaxed almost together this time and apparently on the stroke of midnight ushering in a new decade, because the music and noisemakers picked up on the pool terrace beyond.
“Six,” Ken murmured.
“Six what?”
“The number of men who fucked me on New Year’s Eve 2009. You asked earlier. Does that make me a prostitute?”
“That makes you the most accomplished and appreciated of male whores, yes. You have a passage and techniques to die for. And was I the best?”
“I’m not sure I’ve gotten enough samples.”
“I could . . . again . . .”
“Yes, I feel that you could. But do you have another fuck in you?”
Indeed, Douglas had another fuck in him. The pills were holding up into the new decade.
An hour later they were lying, stretched out against each other and lightly panting, on the bed. They’d done it again, but this time when Douglas had ejaculated, he went nearly flaccid. Ken had dipped down and sucked the cock, but it wasn’t going to more than half hard for at least a bit.
Nuzzling into Douglas’s side, Ken asked, “Are you going to go into business with Altan? Are you going to push the services you provide into the illegal?”
“Is the bodyguard still lurking about?” Douglas asked. Ken dragged out of bed and went to check the corridor.
“No, Musa is gone.” He climbed back onto the bed and Douglas opened his arms to him and drew him in.
“No, I’m not going to go into business with Altan. That’s not what I came here for. I came here for you—to take you away. To release you from here before all hell breaks out.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know your editor at HarperCollins in London, Nathan Horowitz.”
“It’s a small world. I still don’t understand.”
“The Italian police are going to raid this place tomorrow. Nathan Horowitz found you were here and has arranged for me to get you out before tomorrow.”
“To rescue me, you mean?”
“Yes, if you are willing to be rescued.” Douglas had pulled Ken close and was whispering in his ear. “Nathan and your literary agent in New York think you’re being held captive here by Altan. They talked to the Italian authorities about it, who dug up all sorts of shit about Hulugu’s illegal activities. So, there’s a raid on, and I’ve come to pull you out tonight, if you’ll go. Some guys should be out on the balcony now. They can take us down to the street by a rope ladder and out to a yacht. We’ll sail to Barcelona and then on from there.”
Ken mulled that. “So, you’re not really a sex tour operator and you didn’t really come here to fuck me.”
Douglas gave a little laugh. “Yes, I am and I did do both of those, but I’m also here to get you out. I really run a sex trip operation from Germany to Bangkok and that’s how we got hooked up with Hulugu. I really have read your books and find them sexy. I wrote letters to your publisher wanting to know how to get in touch with you and eventually Horowitz and I connected on this scheme. I didn’t lie when I said I’d masturbated to your book flap photo or that I’ve had a fantasy of fucking you. And now I’ve done it. It was all I hoped it would be. That was part of what I get out of this. Now I’m here to rescue you if you want to go. Do you want to go? Now’s the time, if we’re going to do this.”
Ken mulled again, but not for long. “Yesterday I’d probably have said no, but, with what I’ve learned today about everything Altan is into and what else he wants to get into, I’m ready to go.”
“You can’t take much. We have to travel light.”
“Just my manuscripts. All of the clothes belong to Hulugu. But you . . . me . . .”
“Well, for starters, I’ll fuck you all the way to Barcelona,” Douglas said. “Look what I found.” He was holding up another one of Hulugu’s magic pills. “If you can take it, I can give it.”
And he did—all the way to Barcelona.
