This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

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Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors that I missed.

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by Jeff Allen


The sheriff deputy's car, a classic police model Crown Victoria, was waiting at the cattle crossing with its lights flashing as Blaze and I galloped up. The deputy climbed out of the car as I dismounted.

"Are you Paul Nichols?"

"Yes." As the deputy drew nearer I realized that this was a very tall and very big man. I figured his height at about 6' 4". He was well muscled without being overly muscle bound, but his biceps were definitely stretching the fabric of his light brown short-sleeved uniform shirt. It struck me that he looked like Ken Ryker, one of my all time favorite porn stars. I was more than a little annoyed with myself for thinking of sex at a time like this, but I couldn't help it. This guy was hot, and I don't mean from the heat of the day.

"I'm Deputy Campbell."

I extended my hand in greeting, and his hand literally engulfed mine in a firm handshake that was just this side of painful.

"How do we get to the scene? Can I get the cruiser there?"

"It's down this cattle road. It'll be bumpy, but you'll make it. I'll ride ahead."

He headed back to the patrol car. "Okay, let's get going."

As we headed back to the grisly scene in the draw my mind went back to Deputy Campbell. I had seen almost ice blue eyes set in that rugged face. His arms below the short sleeves of the uniform shirt were thickly covered with reddish blond hair and a dense mat of the same color curled out of the open neck of his uniform shirt. I assumed that the hair on his head was the same color, but the sides were so short it was impossible to determine the color and the top of his head had been covered with the Stetson-type hat worn by the local deputies. His complexion was that light creamy hue common in strawberry blonds that turned to freckles instead of tanning.

I stopped Blaze at the bend in the cattle trail where the bodies were just visible. Deputy Campbell pulled the cruiser up beside me and stopped. He got out of the car.

"We need to stay here and away from the scene. I've called for the detectives...and the coroner."

Within an hour the entire hillside and draw were covered with official vehicles, sheriff's deputies, crime lab technicians, detectives, and the coroner. Agents from both INS and Border Patrol arrived a little later. Since the dead men all looked Hispanic, they had been called in also on the possibility that the dead men were illegal aliens.

I stayed near Campbell's cruiser. Blaze munched on some short grass near the back of the cruiser. I must have repeated the same story to every sheriff's deputy and detective on the scene that day. How did I know to come out there? (I was just riding and saw the buzzards) What had I heard the previous night? (Noises that I'd thought were firecrackers or thunder) What time did I hear the noises? (I wasn't sure because I hadn't looked at the clock) Who had access to the land? (Any one. There wasn't any a lock on the gate at the road).

About noon some of the deputies were beginning to spread out from the actual scene of the massacre looking for evidence in the surrounding area.

Suddenly one of them yelled. "Over here! Someone puked!"

I looked up. Deputy Campbell was the nearest person to me. I confessed, "That was me. I threw up after I made the 911 call."

He came over to me and put his large hand on my shoulder. "That's okay. This makes me want to throw up too."

There was a look of hurt, sadness, and sympathy in his eyes. He gave my shoulder a slight squeeze before going over to explain to the detectives about the vomit on the ground.

Campbell talked with the detectives for a while. They looked over in my direction a couple of times, and then Campbell came back over to where I was standing.

"Look, Mr. Nichols, there's no sense in having you stay here while all of this is going on. The detectives said that you could go on home. They may have some more questions for you later. Are you going to be at your house for the next couple of days?"

"Yes. At least until Tuesday. I was planning to make this a long weekend."

"I think it's already been a long weekend."

"I agree. Thanks. I saw you talking to the detectives. I appreciate it."

He shrugged. "It's no problem. They tend to get a little focused when they're investigating a scene. You might still have been waiting around at dinner time before they realized you didn't need to be here. You go on home."

I picked up Blaze's reins and prepared to mount up. "Thanks again, Deputy Campbell."

He smiled. "It's okay. Maybe we'll run into each other again in better circumstances."

All the way back to Rancho del Abuelo I wondered what that last statement meant.

Back at the barn, I led Blaze into his stall, removed his saddle and bridle, and began using the curry comb. Blaze always liked this. He made nickering noises and moved to bring his body into contact with the comb. The grooming done, I opened the tap to fill his water trough.

Alton had obviously cleaned the stalls recently, but I decided to put a little more straw down on the floor for both horses. I walked over to the other side of the barn to get the straw. I grabbed the pitchfork to lift some straw off the pile.

The pile exploded in my face! A figure emerged from the flying straw and started toward me. Startled, I stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. The figure, which now resembled a straw covered boy, moved past me toward the door of the barn. I grabbed an ankle and held on. The boy fell to the floor. I quickly pulled on the ankle and grabbed at the boy's clothing. In a moment, I was sitting on the intruder's chest and pinning his arms out to the side.

"What's going on!"

"Please, Señor, do not hurt me!"

I looked down at my captive. He was Latino. I guessed his age at about sixteen (I later learned he was 20). He was small, only about 5' 6" or so and couldn't have weighed more that 140 lbs which explained why I'd overpowered him so easily. He had coal black hair and eyes, and, even with the dirt smudges and tear stains on his cheeks and chin, those eyes were set in one of the most beautiful faces I'd ever seen. He was dressed in torn and dirty jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. His shirt was stained with dirt and dried blood.

"Oh my God, you were there!"

His eyes teared up. "Sí, Señor! Todos estan muertos! They are all dead. Please, do not kill me."

I eased my grip on his hands. "No one is going to hurt you. You're safe here."

He began to sob. "I saw them. Los gringos killed everyone! So much blood!"

He continued to cry, and I pulled him up to my chest and began to rock him like you would a child. Gradually his racking sobs subsided. "Tell me your name. Como te llamas?"

"My name is Luis Ignacio Torres y Martinez."

"Luis, my name is Paul Nichols. I'm going to get up now. I want you to come into the house. We need to call the Sheriff."

"No! No sheriff! No police! Please Señor Nichols, do not tell the police!" He grabbed at the front of my shirt. I could read the terror in his eyes.

"Luis, I must call the police."

"No, no, Señor. Please. The INS, they will send me back to Mexico or kill me."

"Luis, the police won't kill you."

He looked straight into my eyes. "Señor, a police man was there last night before the shooting!"

I sat back. "Do you mean that the police were involved with the murders!"

"Sí, one police man he was there last night. He left before the coyotes began shooting."

My head was reeling with this information. I sat back on my heels. Quickly I made my decision. Heaven help me if it was the wrong one.

"Luis, I won't call the police or sheriff or the INS. Come into the house. You must be very tired and hungry." I stood up and extended my hand.

Luis looked at my hand for a moment before taking it and pulling himself up to a standing position. He hugged me. "Gracias, Señor! Muchas gracias!"

I helped him into the house and sat him down at the kitchen table. I poured a large glass of water for him and one for me. Luis downed the water almost without swallowing. I refilled his glass, and he drank slower this time. I looked around the kitchen for something to eat, and I realized I was hungry also. It was mid afternoon, and my breakfast had been lost onto the grass many hours earlier. I found some lunch meats and made sandwiches for the two of us.

He ate like there was no tomorrow. He was done with his sandwich before I had even gone through half of mine. He still looked hungry so I made him another. This one lasted a little longer.

After the sandwiches we talked. Luis told me his story. He'd been born near San Felipe about 150 miles south in Baja California. His father died soon after Luis was born, and his mother died when he was ten. After his mother died, he lived in a mission school in San Felipe. It was at the mission school that he learned to read and write. I remarked that his English was quite good, and he told me he had learned it from an American priest at the school. He worked in the school as a combination cook and handyman in return for a room and lessons. Last year, when he was 19, the old priest died, and the replacement priest told him that he was too old to be staying in the school. He worked around at various jobs in the local area for a year, but then decided to come to the United States. He worked his way up to Mexicali and made connections with a "coyote", someone who helps illegals cross the border for money. There had been eleven men in the truck load. They were cramped into a small compartment in the bed of the truck under a load of melons.

Luis said that they had ridden in the truck for several hours before the truck stopped. The coyotes got everyone out from the compartment and had them stand together some distance away from the truck. Luis said that the coyote and his partner waited by themselves for a while. Then a police car come up the road. A man in uniform got out and began to talk with the two coyotes. The three men appeared to be arguing, but they were far enough away that Luis couldn't hear what was being said. Suddenly the police man turned away from the coyotes, got back in his car, and left. The coyotes moved back over to the truck. Luis thought that they might be going to put everyone back in the truck and drive on to their destination so he decided to relieve himself just in case. He slipped away from the other men. He was behind a bush peeing when the shooting started. He ducked down in the grass until the shooting stopped and he heard the truck drive away. When he got back up, everyone else was dead. After he had checked each man to be certain no one else was alive he had wandered off into the night. He found my house and barn early in the morning. He had watched me come out of the house that morning and ride off on Blaze. He went into the barn to find some shelter and had fallen asleep. When he heard me returning in the afternoon, he'd hidden in the pile of straw until he thought I was going to stick the pitchfork into the pile.

By the time Luis was finished with the story he was crying again. I moved from my side of the table and sat next to him putting my arm around his shoulders and pulling him into me. He cried against my chest, and I shed some tears along with him.

I told Luis that we needed to get him cleaned up. He followed me into the bedroom wing of the house. I took him into the guest bathroom and supplied him with towels, soap, and shampoo. I showed him how to work the shower temperature control.

"Give me your dirty clothes, and I'll find something for you to wear after you shower."

"Gracias, Señor."

"Luis, my name is Paul."

", Señor Paul."

I laughed. "Okay. I give up. Take your shower."

After a moments hesitation, he began to disrobe. He pulled his shirt over his head revealing his torso which was totally hairless except for a patch of black hair under each arm. His body was slim but with some muscular definition around his pectorals and abdominals. His nipples were dark brown-red and about the size of quarters.

I stood transfixed as more of his body was revealed when he kicked off his shoes and quickly unzipped his jeans and slid them down his legs. His legs had a fine dusting of hair. His upper body was so smooth, I really hadn't expected to see much hair on the rest of him. As he slid the jeans down his legs, his boxer shorts were pulled down enough to show the beginnings of a surprisingly thick patch of pubic hair. He looked up, and I think he saw me watching him because he blushed, and I felt my self blush in return. He cast his eyes downward and quickly slipped off his boxers and stepped into the shower. I caught a brief glimpse of his cock and balls nestled in that patch of black hair. He was uncut and although his cock wasn't overly large it definitely was interesting with the foreskin extending down over the head and forming a slight pucker.

I swallowed hard and walked out of the bathroom.

I rummaged around in my closet trying to find something that wouldn't be too big for Luis. I figured that he only weighed in at around 140-145 lbs. I was 175. It was a cinch that none of my regular pants were going to fit him either in the waist or in the legs. I finally settled for a tee shirt that was a little too small for me, a pair of running shorts, and some socks. I carried the clean clothes back to the bathroom and opened the door. Luis was still in the shower shampooing his hair. I could barely make out his slim form behind the translucent shower curtain. I put the clean clothes on the counter, gathered up his discarded clothes from the floor of the bathroom, went into my bedroom, and tossed Luis' soiled clothing into the washing machine.

I wasn't much cleaner or better smelling than Luis had been so I stripped off my own clothes, tossed them into the washer, started the machine, and then stepped into my shower.

The shower felt great! After shampooing my hair and soaping up my body, I stood in the spray letting the water run down my back. What had I just gotten myself into? I had an illegal immigrant in my house who was the only living witness to a multiple murder, and the cops were involved somehow. How would I get out of this one? And why did my mind keep wandering back to the sight of Luis' naked body stepping into the shower?

My cock stiffened as I soaped my groin. I began stroking my pole thinking of Luis. Just before I came another image entered my fantasy...Deputy Campbell with his strong features. I groaned and pumped my load onto the wall of the shower.

(To be continued)