Date: Thu, 7 Jun 2007 08:31:24 -0400
From: kicky1000@yahoo.com
Subject: Illegal Transport

			     Illegal Transport

				    By

				Little Dan

I am seated in 34A, the window seat, in the tourist section of a 747, calmly
reading a People Magazine.  True.  I am in slight discomfort, but I can bear
it for another few hours until I arrive in New York and deliver my forbidden
cargo to my girlfriend Florinda's brother, Jose.  I am sitting here calmly
reading People Magazine with over a pound of powdered cocaine, tightly
wrapped in latex condums stuffed up my ass.   I am a drug mule.

This is my third trip and I have grown to like the easy money that my
transport service provides.  I get thousands for each trip.  Thousands.
Just for stuffing something up my ass and getting on a plane.  Easy money.
So easy.   Of course, it wasn't always easy.  It wasn't easy the first time.
I didn't think I'd be able to do it, but I persevered and overcame my
colonic protestations, and now I am a professional.

I had embarked on this enterprise because of Florinda.  I was totally
enamored with Florinda.  Her long dark hair, her flashing dark eyes, her
spectacular legs, her fiery Latin temperament, and her fiery Latin pussy.

I had met her one evening in an East Side bar.  There were many men around
her.  There were always men around Florinda.  She was hot, and she was
exciting, and I was to find out later that she was also expensive.  I took
one look at her and knew I had to have her.

I edged away three guys and moved up against her at the bar.  I looked down
at the swell of her tits, and then gazed into her flashing eyes.  I was
hooked.  She knew it.

"Hola, bebe," she said.

"Hi," I said.   "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Everyone wants to buy Florinda a drink.  Everyone.  But yes.  Okay.  I will
let you buy me a drink."

"You will?" I asked.  "Great!"

I ordered her another of what she was drinking, and also one for myself, and
we started to chat.

I told her my name was Bruce, and that I had a degree in architecture from
Yale.  I didn't tell her that I didn't as yet have any commissions, and was
working as the assistant in the office of a more established architect who
was paying me beans.

It turned out that Florinda and her brother, Jose, had recently emigrated
from Colombia, because a powerful drug lord was obsessed with Florinda, and
she did not return his feelings.  She had pleaded with the embassy for
asylum and they had granted it to both her and her brother, because she
would not leave the country without him.  They were so close.

"Do you live around here?" I asked her.

She told me that she shared a small studio apartment with her brother only
two blocks away,  but that her brother was out for the evening, and did I
want to come up for a drink?  I definitely did.

Before we left, I thought I should visit the men's room to take a leak, and
excused myself.   When I got in there, there was a guy at the other urinal,
and he seemed to be playing with himself.  I really hate that.  Still, I
needed to go, so I unzipped and took it out of my pants.  But I was so
conscious of the fact that he was scrutinizing my dick that I couldn't go.
I just kept standing there, waiting for the flow to start.  I guess he
thought my standing there for so long was some kind of invitation or
something, which it wasn't, because I can't stand those guys.  They really
creep me out.  Always after your cock.  They want you to put it in their
mouth or even up their ass.  Sick.

"Nice night," he observed.

"Fuck off," I told him.  And I was so pissed off that I socked him.
"Sorry," I said.  "I can't stand gay stuff.  It creeps me out."

He dabbed a little blood from his mouth with a tissue and tried to appease
me by saying he had only said `nice night.'  I gave a sardonic laugh and
zipped up.  I left the men's room with my mission unaccomplished and
returned to the bar, where Florinda was waiting for me.

We walked the two blocks to her small apartment.  It was really small.
There was only room for one double bed, which it turned out she shared with
her brother, Jose, who fortunately was out spending the night with his
girlfriend, Isabella.  We sat on the side of the bed and started kissing.  I
tasted the sweetness of her saliva.  I started playing with her breasts.  I
eased her top off, and began to lick each delectable swell, flicking my
tongue over each excited pointy nipple.  Yes.  She was ready to fuck.   I
worked my hand under her skirt and into her panties.  She was hot and she
was wet.  She was ready to fuck.

I took off the rest of her clothes and then I took off my clothes.  We were
both on the bed now, and I moved down so that I could taste the sweetness of
her butterfly.  As my tongue worked its magic, her fists hammered on the
sheet, while she moaned and screamed.  "Si!  Si!  Dios mio.  Si."

I had her begging for my cock and I moved up on top of her and gave it to
her.  Her pussy sucked my dick right in, after which she gave me the ride of
my life.  I had never felt another pussy like this, and I knew that I would
be wanting much more of this.

"Ay.  Mi amor.  Si! Si!  Coge me. Coge me.  Fuck me," she screamed, so I
did.

Florinda was made for sex.  I felt the tension building in my balls, and
knew I was going to shoot.

I squeezed her tits as I hammered into her, and I felt the hot fluid
shooting up my tube.  She knew I was coming, and went into crazy Latin
ecstasies as I shot off into her womb.   We lay there wrapped in each
other's arms, nibbling lips and kissing, and kissing.  We fucked another
three times during the night.

After that night I was totally in love and I courted her.  We became a
couple.  We started going everywhere together.  Unfortunately, Florinda
always wanted to go to expensive night clubs.  And she liked presents.
Especially jewelry.  But I wasn't making a lot of money.   I began to feel
the pinch.

"I can't afford it," I finally told her one night, when she admired a pricey
gold bracelet that was in the window of Tiffany's which we were just then
passing.

"You could make more money," she told me.  "I know how you could make lots
of money."

"How?" I asked her, but she didn't answer.  That night we went to my
apartment, because Jose was not spending the night with Isabella and would
be in the bed where we usually fucked.  I couldn't understand how she could
sleep with her brother in one bed.  Crazy.

But my lack of money started to become a problem between us, so I asked her.
"You told me I could make lots of money.  How?"

"If you fly down to South America.  If you bring something back into this
country, someone would pay you."

"This isn't any kind of terrorist plot, is it?" I asked her nervously.

"Nothing like that," she explained.  "Drogas.  La Cocaina."

"You want me to smuggle cocaine?"  I asked her, aghast.  What was I getting
myself into?  She was from Colombia.  I should have guessed.  She had been
involved with a drug lord.  I should have guessed.  But it was too late.  I
was head over heels.

"They pay mucho money," she pursued.

"How much?"

"Maybe Ten Thousand each trip.  Maybe more."

"Really?" I asked.

"Si," she said.  "My brother, Jose.  He know people.  He could set
everything up."

In all this time, I had never actually met Jose.  He was always out when I
spent the night in their cramped studio apartment.  Now I was curious.

"You want I introduce you to my brother?" she asked me.

"Sure," I said.  "Maybe."  Did I really want to meet Jose?  Jose, who could
set everything up with the drug lords.

But I was starting to think about the money.  It seemed like an easy way to
make ten grand.  To smuggle in a little Cocaina.

"Sure," I said.  "Introduce me to your brother.  I'm not committing to
anything," I explained, "But I'll talk to him."

Three nights later I went to their apartment and Jose was there.  He was
lying on the bed in his underwear, smoking a cigarette.  He was a
well-muscled, lanky dark guy, with black curly hair and a five o'clock
shadow.  His dark skin accentuated the whiteness of his tee shirt and the
shorts, which he seemed to be virtually stuffed into.

"My sister, she tells me you maybe would fly down to Colombia and make a
little trip for us," he said.

"I'm thinking about it," I told him.  "What would I have to do?"

"You fly down to Cartagena, and I have you picked up by my friends, The
Santiago brothers,  Paco, Pedro and Pablo.  They give you a supply of La
Cocaina to bring to me here.  You get back on the plane and come home.  Is
very easy."

"It can't be so easy," I said.  "Suppose they searched my luggage.  I could
get thrown in jail for the rest of my life."

"Drogas will not be in your luggage," he assured me.  "Someplace no one can
find."

"Where?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot, so I didn't ask any more questions.  I
was very nervous about the whole thing, but I agreed to do it.

Jose got in contact with Pedro Santiago, and they set it all up.  I called
the airline and arranged a flight to Cartagena on the 19th of the month.
It was decided that I would be wearing a blue `I Love Madonna' tee shirt,
and that was how Pedro would recognize me when he came to pick me up at the
airport.  I knew that it would look suspicious to the authorities if I flew
back the very next day, so I booked my return flight for a week later.  Jose
told me that I was invited to stay with the Santiago brothers while I was
`vacationing' in their country.

"I'm so nervous," I told Florinda.

"No es nada.  It is nothing.  You will be fine," she assured me, and then we
had a glorious continuous eight hour fuck in her bed.  Jose was spending the
night at Isabella's.

I drank three cocktails on the flight to Cartagena.  I needed the drinks to
calm myself and also to wash down the bags of salted peanuts I was nervously
devouring.

When the plane landed and I disembarked, I headed to baggage pickup.  It was
there that Pedro Santiago was supposed to contact me.  It was an hour before
the first suitcase appeared, but Pedro Santiago had not yet appeared.  I was
starting to get nervous.   It took another fifteen minutes before my own
blue suitcase appeared.  I pulled it off the revolving conveyer belt and
stood there waiting.

"You love Madonna?" a voice asked me.  I turned around.  It was a tall
powerful looking man in his mid thirties, with black hair and a black
moustache.

"Yes.  I love Madonna," I told him.

"I also love Madonna," he said.  "You are Senor Bruce Wagner?"

"Yes," I said.

"I am Pedro Santiago.  Welcome to our beautiful country."

"Thank you," I said.

He took my bag from me and we headed out to the parking lot where his
Mercedes was parked.  Apparently the `drogas' business was treating him
well.

We drove twenty minutes into the countryside where the Santiago family
estate was, and where he lived with his two brothers, Paco and Pablo.

As we entered the front door, the two other brothers came to greet me right
away.  They all looked so similar, I was having difficulty remembering which
one was Pedro and which one was Paco and which one was Pablo.

I found out later that Pedro was two years older, but that indeed Paco and
Pablo were identical twins.  They were not quite as tall as Pedro and not
quite as powerful looking.  They were slimmer, and clean shaven.  They were
also quite good looking.  And a little dangerous looking.  I would not want
to get on their bad side in a drug deal.

The four of us had a very lovely dinner, provided by the servants, and then
Pedro showed me up to the guest bedroom.  It was quite lovely and overlooked
the pool.  But I was tired from my trip and fell asleep quickly.

The next day we spent out by the pool.  I had not brought a bathing suit,
but Paco lent me one of his, and it was just slightly too big.  I kept
worrying that it would drop down and expose my white ass while we were
playing water polo.  It drooped a lot and occasionally did drop down and
whenever that happened, I noticed Paco and Pablo glance at each other.
Well, I suppose it was funny.  `The gringo's bathing suit is so droopy that
we keep seeing his ass.'

On the third day, I approached the subject of my mission.  I asked Pedro how
I was supposed to transport the drugs.

"Inside your body," he told me, "Where they cannot look."

"Inside my body?   Am I going into surgery?"   I was horrified.

"No," he laughed.  "Not surgery."

"Well how do they get inside my body?"  I asked.  I was so naïve.

"The drugs are in a latex condom," he explained.  "You stuff some condoms
filled with Cocaina up into your culo.  He used the Spanish word for ass, so
as not to embarrass me.

"Into my culo?"

"Si, into your culo." he said.

"I don't think I can do that," I said.  "I don't even like to have my
temperature taken back there."

"That is your decision, Senor," he told me.  "But if you cannot do this,
there will be no payment, of course."

"I see," I said.  "Well.  Maybe I ought to test it out and see if I can do
it," I proposed.

"Bien," he said.   He explained the situation to Paco and Pablo, and it was
decided that I would only have clear broth for dinner, and that I would try
to upload the condoms that evening, to see if I could manage it.

They suggested that it would be better if I were totally cleaned out, and
they filled an enema bag for me.  "Can you do it yourself?"  asked Paco.

"I don't know," I told him.  "I never tried."  But I was damned if I was
going to let them see my bare ass and let them give me an enema.  That was
just not dignified.

They left the room.  I got on the bed and held the enema bag over my head
with my right arm.   With my left hand, I inserted the plastic tip of the
hose.  Damn.  Even that was uncomfortable.  I released the metal clip to let
the water flow.  But it seemed like nothing was happening.  Maybe I was
lying in the wrong position.  I tried to shift.  Nothing was happening.
Damn.  Nothing was ever as easy as you thought it was going to be.  I pulled
out the plastic tip and walked to the door.

I saw Pablo down the hall.  He was just about to go into his room.

"Pablo," I said.

"Si, senor?"

"I'm having a little trouble.  I don't think I can do this by myself?"

"You want that I might help you?" he asked.

"Si," I said.  "Por favor."

We went back into my room and I got back on the bed.  He positioned me on my
left side, with my right leg drawn up and inserted the plastic tube once
again into my tight protesting little aperture.  I heard the metal clip
release, and then I felt the hot liquid flooding into me.

"Enough," I said.

"No.  Still half bag," he told me.  I tried to reach around to pull the tube
out, but his hand gripped my wrist and twisted it.  Then he pressed on my
neck and forced me to submit to the rest of the irrigation.

My face was in a hot sweat.  I couldn't wait for it to be over.  I couldn't
wait to empty out the water.  This was so awful.  And then finally I heard
him resnapping the metal clip and then I felt the hard plastic tip withdraw
from my body.  I raced down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door.
What a relief.

A half hour later, when I was clean and empty, I went back to my room and
put on my underpants.  I knew that Pedro would be bringing in `las drogas'
for me to test, and after about fifteen minutes there was a knock on my
door.

"Come in," I said.  Pedro entered, and so did Paco and Pablo.  All three of
them were going to witness my indignity.

"We will put the drogas inside you," said Pedro.

"Can't I do it myself?" I complained.

"I think you need for us to help you," he explained.  "You have no
experience."

"Well.  Okay," I conceded.

They made me get onto my knees on the bed with my head and shoulders down,
but with my ass raised up high.  I can't tell you how embarrassing this all
was.

Pedro had this large thick condom, like a giant white frankfurter, filled
with the forbidden powder.  He lubricated it with a gel, and then he began
feeding the gel into my ass with his finger, which felt very unpleasant, I
can tell you.  If I couldn't even take his finger, how was I going to take
that thick stuffed condom?   He started pushing it in.  Paco and Pablo were
gazing raptly at the point of entrance.

"Owww.  Owww," I said.  "It's no good.  I can't take it.  It hurts."

He eased it out and I felt enormous relief.  Thank god.

"Of course there will be no payment," said Pedro.  "Tomorrow you can change
your flight and fly back home."

"I wish I could do it for you.  I really do," I said.  I felt as if I had
proven myself to be totally inadequate.  They wanted nothing more to do with
me, and I had really been enjoying my stay.  What a shame.  "Isn't there
some other way I could carry them?" I asked.

"No.  This is the only way," said Pedro.   "Maybe you could get used to it?"

"How could I do that?" I asked.

"With practice.  Keep putting them in the next few days and you will get
used to them."

"I can't get it in at all," I told him.  "You saw."

"You are tight, yes.  But with a little stretching, it could be done."

""How does one do a little stretching?"  I asked bitterly.  That was
ridiculous.

"We will open up your culo for you, senor, if you agree."

"If you can open it up, great, but how?"

"We will show you.  We have a very fine way to do that," said Paco.

"Well, okay," I guess.  "I'll try anything."

Then they looked at each other and smiled and began taking off their
clothes.  When they were standing naked around the bed, I stared in
amazement and embarrassment at their throbbing stiff `pingas.'  So that's
what they had in mind.  They were going to put their pingas up my ass.  That
was how they were planning to stretch my culo.  By fucking my ass.  No way.

"Hey.  No," I said.  "I can't do that.  That's homo stuff.  That's not my
style."

"We are only trying to help you, senor," said Pablo.  "We will stretch your
culo for you and you will be able to insert the drogas and make lots of
money.  "Let us try, si?"

Well.  It wasn't like it was a sex thing or a gay thing or anything.  It was
just to stretch my culo for the drugs.  I guess I could put up with that.  I
sure did want the money.

"Well, okay," I said.  "What do I have to do?"

"We help you out.  We will give you a little Cocaina to sniff.  It takes
away the pain."  I had never sniffed, but if it took away the pain I was all
for it.  They brought in a supply of powder from Paco's room and cut it into
lines.  We all sniffed.  They didn't want to feel any pain either.  Finally
when my head was buzzing a little, and I was feeling kind of happy, they
positioned me on the bed with my ass stuck up into the air.  Pedro moved in
behind me.  I wish it had been one of the twins, because their dicks were a
little less thick and not as veined.  I thought that they might hurt a
little less.

"Okay, senor.  Now a special treat.  I am going to work some Cocaina into
your culo.  It will deaden it a little.  You will feel only a pleasant
pressure and not pain when our pingas go inside you."

"Okay," I said.  `No pain' sounded good to me.

He worked his finger in and out and in and out for about five minutes,
always feeding more white powder into my tight asshole.  And I was beginning
to feel a seductive numb sensation back there.  I knew something was inside
me, but not exactly what.  And I knew he was twisting his fingers inside me,
and gradually widening my sphincter.  I knew this intellectually, but I
really wasn't feeling much of anything.  Certainly I wasn't feeling any
pain.  That was definitely a plus.   Maybe I could do this after all.

But then I felt the thick head of his pinga press against my ring, and then
I kind of felt it sliding into my culo.  But it wasn't so terrible.  I could
take it.  He moved in very slowly, and then he began to work it in and out
of me.  I was almost beginning to enjoy it.  Even though my channel was
fairly numb, I felt a seductive pressure inside of it.

"Ay, senor.  You have such a hot tight virgin culo.  It makes me want to
shoot my leche inside it.  Ay, si.  Mi leche wants to shoot out into your
hot tight culo.  And then he flattened me out on the bed and fell totally on
top of me and ground his hips against me and I could sort of feel his organ
working in and out of my culo, but it was not an unpleasant feeling.  And
then he started hip-slamming me and he groaned and his cock throbbed inside
me, and I could feel more hot liquid flooding into my asshole.  But this
time it wasn't water.  It was cum.

"Que bonito culo," he told me.  "What a pretty ass."  "Paco.," he called.
It was now to be Paco's turn.

Pedro climbed off the bed and Paco took his place.  Paco reannointed my
opening with a fresh supply of cocaine before entering me.  His cock was not
as thick as Pedro's, but maybe slightly longer, and I felt it sliding into
me and it was again not painful or unpleasant.  Just a warm numbness.  It
was like a very intimate internal massage.  A Greek internal massage.   But
it was okay.  Yes.  Maybe I could be a successful drug mule, after all.

"Ay, Pedro.  This culo is so tight.  I have never felt such tightness, even
after your thickness, it is so tight.  Muy estrecho.   Even though my pinga
feels like it is wrapped in a rubber band and pains a little, still it also
feels muy bueno.  Me gusta.  I like it.   I am enjoying stretching this
culo estrecho,"  babbled Paco as he slammed his rod up into the place that
would become a coke carrier and make me rich.   "Si, puta.  Open that culo
for Paco's pinga.  Suck out Paco's hot leche.  Ay si!  Que bueno.  Que
bueno."

"Que bueno," someone else said, and my god, it was me.  I was starting to
like this.  But it was okay.  It wasn't like it was a sex thing or a gay
thing or anything.  I was just getting my culo stretched to carry cocaine.
"Ay.  Que bueno.  Fuck me.  Fuck me," I begged.

Paco grasped my hips and pulled me up to him, so that he was totally rooted
within me.  Then he guided my hips into various angles so that the thrusts
would weaken the elastic of my rectal walls.   As Paco labored, Pedro lifted
another line of cocaine to each of my nostrils and I sniffed greedily.  And
my head just sailed away in the wind.  I was nothing but a disembodied body
floating with the trade winds, as the wonderful fullness prodded my
desensitized bottom.

"Ay si!  Fuck me.  Fuck me."  I began to whimper in senseless pleasure.

"Que puta!" observed Pablo from the sidelines.  "What a slut.  He loves big
dick up his culo Americano."

"Si.  This loco Americano loves big dick.  Fuck me.  Fuck me." I pleaded.
What was happening to me?  It was just the cocaine, probably.  It wasn't
like it was a sex thing or a gay thing or anything.  I was just getting my
culo stretched for business purposes.

"This bitch is sucking out my hot leche.  AAARRRGGG," screamed Paco, and I
felt the leche pulsing up into me and bringing a pleasant warmth to the
tingling numbness in my rear.

"Ay, si  Dame tu leche.  Give me your cum," I demanded and squeezed down on
his delicious explosions."

He pulled his pinga out of me, and I dropped my hips back onto the mattress
in a drugged delirium.

"Is my culo stretched enough?"  I asked weakly.  It hadn't been terrible,
but I had sort of had enough.

"Not yet," said Pedro, "We have to open it from other angles also."  And
then he gave me another nasal hit.  I hardly knew what was happening
anymore.  I think they were rubbing more drugs into my ass, and now they
were turning me over on my back, and I looked up and Pablo was kneeling on
the mattress between my thighs.  He lifted them, and hooked one leg over
each of his shoulders.  Then his pinga, the twin of Paco's pinga, entered me
from the front.

He began to move his hips in a to-fro motion, and he began to say things
like "Que bueno.  And what a hot tight culo,"  but I was not begging for
pinga anymore.  I was semi-senseless.  Just lying there wide open to his
penetration.  Allowing the widening process to proceed while I was off on
some distant cloud, and after about ten minutes, I heard him groan and heard
the word `leche,' and felt the warm wetness within me again, and as his
pinga began to slip out of me, I slipped from consciousness.

They spent the next five days widening my culo, and before driving me to the
airport, they again administered a hot enema to totally clean me.  Then they
numbed my bottom, and I felt one after another of the thick white sausages
being stuffed high up into me.  But I could tolerate it.  I was happy.  I
couldn't wait to get home, so that Florinda could see that I had succeeded
in my task.  She would be so proud of me.  I couldn't wait to fuck that hot
Latin pussy again.

I got through customs with absolutely no problem.  After all, I was just a
clean-cut young architect, a Yale graduate, who had vacationed in South
America for a week.  Outside the airport I got a taxi and went straight to
Florinda's little apartment, to turn the shipment over to Jose for future
profits.

It was about ten in the evening when I rang from the outer lobby of their
building.

"Quien es?  Who is it?"  It was Jose.

"Soy yo.  It's me, Bruce," I said.  "I'm back."  I heard the buzzer ring and
pushed on the now unlatched door.  I took the elevator up to their
apartment.  Jose opened the door, wearing only his tight jockey shorts.  I
entered the small apartment.  Florinda was lying in the bed, under the
covers.

"Hola, mi amor.  Welcome back," she said.  I walked over to the bed and we
kissed.  Her saliva was like an aphrodisiac.  My cock poked straight out in
my pants and I wanted to jump her on the spot.

"La Cocaina," said Jose, reminding me why I was there.

"Si," I said.  He took me into the bathroom and explained how I was going to
evacuate my cargo, and then clean each balloon with liquid antiseptic soap.
He closed the bathroom door and I embarked on my task.

Finally everything was out of me.  Wow.  That felt much better.  Much, much
better.  I hadn't realized how uncomfortable I had been until this moment.
I guess the cocaine they had given me top and bottom before stuffing me had
really helped me make my delivery.   I laid out each balloon neatly on the
toilet tank, pulled up my pants, and opened the door to reenter the bedroom.
What I saw just sucked the breath out of me.

Jose was lying on top of Florinda, his naked asscheeks glowing like two full
moons between the lightning streaks of her twisted flaying legs.  They were
twisted around his waist.  Jose was fucking Florinda.  He was fucking his
own sister.

"Florinda," I cried.

"You done?" he asked me.

"Yes.  They're in the bathroom.  You're fucking your sister."

"Si.  Por supuesto.  Of course.  I fuck her all the time.  She says I have
best cock in the world.  She loves.  Right Florinda?"

"Ay.  Si.  Fuck me, mi hermano.  Fuck me, my brother.  I love your big dick
in my pussy.  I want to feel you shoot your hot leche inside my chocha."

"Si.  I will give you my hot leche," he groaned and twisted around on top of
her.   They were like a pair of animals going at it in the wild.  I had
never seen such naked lust.  I was at once repelled and terribly excited.

"GRAAAAAGGGHH!"  screamed Jose, as Florinda made pleading whimpering noises,
and his hips signaled his discharge into her beautiful pussy.   He pulled
out of her and stood up.  His pinga started to lose its starch, and began
dangling toward the floor as he headed toward the bathroom to check the
shipment.

"Muy bueno.  Very good," he told me.  "You can go now.  Come back tomorrow
night and Florinda will give you your money," he said.

I left and went to my own apartment.  My god!  My girlfriend was fucking her
own brother.  Did I really want to keep seeing her?  You bet I did.  I
wanted to add my leche to the leche that her brother had just left inside
her.  That was so fucking hot.  My god!  I wanted to jack off.  I needed to
jack off.  No.  I was going to save it.  I was going to save it and give it
to her tomorrow night when I went to pick up my money.

I could barely wait until the next evening.  I waited until nine o'clock.  I
couldn't wait a second longer.  I went over to their apartment and buzzed.
They buzzed me in.

When I got to their door, Florinda opened it.  She was alone.   She was
wearing just a little pair of white panties, not even a bra.  Her two
beautiful breasts were bouncing seductively on her chest.

"Ay.  Mi amor.  Welcome home.  I am so proud of you.  You are my hero."
Then she handed me an envelope containing my payment for delivering the
balloons.  I didn't open it.  I knew they would not cheat me.  Florinda
began to paw at me, and to unbutton my shirt.  We were racing to see which
one of us could undress me faster.  My balls were bursting with hot leche
for her.

Finally we were both naked on the bed, and I was orally exploring the wonder
of her beautiful butterfly.  I nibbled at her little nub and she went
totally crazy and began hammering her fists on the mattress.

"Que bueno!" she screamed.  "So good.  So good.  Fuck me, caro mio.  Fuck
me."  I climbed over her and positioned myself for the entrance into
paradise.  Just then the apartment door opened.  My god!  It was Jose.  He
had come back.  I froze in an arched position above her.

"Go on," he said.  "Don't mind me.  Fuck her."

I couldn't believe what was happening.  He was giving me his blessing to
plunge my stiff cock into his sister's hot chocha.  I did.  I began to fuck
away not caring where Jose was or what he was doing.  I was totally
concentrated on Florinda, and my cock in her cunt, and the noises she was
making, and her arms which were caressing my back and then my asscheeks, and
then I felt an extra weight on the mattress.  I lifted my lips off
Florinda's for a moment to see what was happening.  Jose had climbed onto
the bed, and he was naked.  And his big thick pinga was very stiff.  Was he
going to fuck her after me?  Sloppy seconds?

"Fuck her," he told me.  And then he held out a line of coke for me to sniff
into each nostril before proceeding.  My head sailed away.  I proceeded.  I
was high as a kite on coke and fucking my baby.  I planted my lips over hers
again as I scissored in and out, and then I felt a finger climbing up my
butt.   Jose's had stuck his finger into my butt.   And now my butt was
getting a little numb.  He had put some cocaine up my butt.   And just as
that realization hit me, I felt him move between my thighs, and I felt the
tip of his hot pinga pressing into me, and my god I wanted it.  I let it
happen.  I let it slide inside me.

"Fuck me.  Fuck me," I screamed.  And I was fucking Florinda's pussy, and
Jose was fucking my culo.  And in a few minutes the three of us climaxed
together in screaming ecstasy.

We have been fucking together ever since.  Sometimes Jose fucks Florinda,
and then I put my dick into her leche filled pussy.  I like sloppy seconds.
Especially when Jose went first.  He has the warmest, smoothest, loveliest
leche.  But sometime, I fuck Florinda and Jose fucks my ass.  I think I like
that even better.  I am in the middle.  Lucky Pierre.

I am starting to have some slight sinus problems.  I should probably be more
careful about sniffing up all this cocaine.  But it is so good.  And it
makes fucking so fantastic.  I love it.  I don't think I could stop even if
my septum began to deteriorate which I know could happen.

And now I am seated in seat 34A, the window seat, in the tourist section of
a 747.  I am on the return flight of my third trip.  My ass is stuffed with
heavy white sausages.  I can't wait to deliver them to Jose.  I can't wait
to fuck Florinda.  I can't wait until Jose's thick pinga replaces the cargo
that I am carrying.

I enter customs, and they call me aside.  They begin questioning me on my
frequent visits to Latin America.  I put on my most innocent face.  "It's
summer down there," I explain.  "I can't stand the cold weather."

They aren't buying it.  They are leading me into a small private bathroom.
They are telling me that I must defecate into their toilet.  What a nerve.
I tell them that I am constipated.  They tell me that I will not be allowed
out of that room until I have complied with their demands.  The hours pass.
I am getting more and more uncomfortable.  Finally, there is no getting
around the fact that I will have to expel the incriminating balloons.

They give me twenty-five years in the penitentiary.  Jose and Florinda come
often to visit me.  I know that Jose was very sad to have lost that precious
third shipment.  He had already been promised a great deal of money for it.
Florinda tells me that she misses me.  That she loves me and will wait for
me.  Jose tells me he misses me.  He tells me that I was a good mule who had
a good ass.

Fortunately my cell mate, Alberto, is a very sweet guy and he likes me.  He
also has drug connections.   In exchange for the use of my culo he shares
his cocaine with me.  I sniff it up my nose, and he rubs some into the
membranes of my rectum.  Then he fucks me.  We are both happy with this
arrangement.  I may not be free, but I will make the best of it.  I had
wanted to be an architect.  I guess now I will never design a great
skyscraper, but I am content to feel a fleshy approximation of one rising
high up inside me.