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.
The author retains all rights to this story. No reproductions or links
to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.
Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and
catching all those silly little errors that I missed.
If you like the story, I'd appreciate hearing from you. Send your comments
to Jeff Allen (firstname.lastname@example.org).
THUNDER IN THE NIGHT
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
"Give me your dirty clothes, and I'll find something for you to wear after
"Luis, my name is Paul."
"Sí, 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
(To be continued)