Date: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 08:00:25 -0400
From: Jake Preston <jemtling@gmail.com>
Subject: Psychic Detective 18

Psychic Detective 18
By Jake Preston


This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a
murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in
other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes
recreational, sometimes spiritual, and almost always described explicitly.
My attention is equally divided between narrative, character development,
and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there are many
other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that while
nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think about
donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on
nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters
and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions
for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response!

Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com


      * * * * * *


Chapter 18 Ricky Eagle Cap and Patrolman Durham in Joseph


      Ricky drove straight from the Res to the Sheriff's Office in Joseph.
There, Patrolman Durham sorted the personal effects of murder victims-
combs, hairbrushes, caps, headbands, toothbrushes, and strands of pubic
hair. He put them in evidence-bags and labeled them. The desk sergeant
countersigned the labels while Durham entered his report on an office
computer.  "These are missing-person cases for now," Durham advised the
Sergeant, "but we'll need to compare it with DNA evidence collected at four
crime scenes." He updated the Sergeant on the case. Durham manned the front
desk while the Sergeant carried the plastic bags to shelves in the evidence
room that were dedicated to the Eagle Cap Wilderness murders. "This case is
taking up shelf space," the Sergeant said. "Your material is sorted into
four boxes."

      "Stay with me tonight, Ricky. I can't be alone," Durham said. He
hadn't realized that the Sergeant had finished his task in the evidence
room and was within earshot of the front desk. He didn't seem to mind that
the Sergeant overheard.

      "Whatever you need, buddy," Ricky replied. The Sergeant looked
puzzled, but he was sensitive to the enormity of the situation- processing
the personal effects of four murder victims.

      Ricky parked his car in the driveway of Durham's small rented house
on a residential street in Joseph. In the fading light of dusk, it could
still be seen from the street. "This is going to be awkward for you,
Peter," Ricky said. "My car's at your place. Your car's at my place. How
are you going to explain it?"

      "Does it matter?" Durham asked. "The Sergeant knows. By lunchtime
tomorrow, everyone in the department will know."

      Sex started with Ricky's face in Pete's armpits. He responded with
partial reciprocation, but Ricky told him to relax and enjoy. He played
with Peter's nipples- fondling, licking, kissing. Ricky's attentive
flattery was punctuated by jolting pinches and bites, accompanied by
digital frottage along Peter's cleft and around his butthole. "Concentrate
on your ass," Ricky whispered. "Let your nips telegraph messages to your
butthole."

      Ricky played 'milk the udder' with Peter's nips. "You can't get milk
from a bull," Peter quipped. "Wanna bet?" Ricky replied, and continued his
simultaneous play on Peter's nips and his butt. Peter interrupted the
action by squeezing Ricky's nips. "Ouch!"- Ricky's nipples were
super-sensitive. He couldn't endure pinching or biting. Nip-play on Ricky
was limited to gentle finger-frot. "You're tougher than me, Pete," he
said. Peter relaxed and gave Ricky control.

      "Something is happening to me," Peter said.

      "Concentrate your mind on your butt," Ricky whispered. He alternated
his oral ministrations between Peter's ears, his neck, his armpits and
nipples, all the while frotting his cleft and his hole. Occasionally he
broke the cycle by straddling Peter's chest and feeding him cock, allowing
Peter to nibble on foreskin- always returning to the original scene in a
circuit of foreplay.

      "You're turning me into your butt-boy," Peter said. "Ricky smiled and
ran two fingers along Peter's lips. Peter sucked on his fingers while Ricky
frotted Peter's butt. He swiveled into a 69 and tongued Peter's navel while
Peter sucked dick. He teased Peter's cock by licking the shaft.

      Ricky repositioned Peter with his ass at the edge of the bed, and
knelt between his legs.  He licked Peter's scrotum and sucked on his balls,
all the while frotting his hole. He licked Peter's perineum. He fondled
Peter's cock. "Close your eyes, Pete, and visualized your cock as a giant
male clittie sending messages to your butt," Ricky said. He rimmed Peter's
portal and frigged cock. Peter moaned. "Is it working?" Ricky asked.

      "Yeah," Peter grunted.

      "Why Peter, your sweet little butthole is winking at me," Ricky said.

      "Get down there and eat some male pussy," Peter said.

      Ricky rimmed until Peter could no longer wait to feel cock up his
ass. Ricky gave him the lube-tube and told him to lubricate himself. He
did. Peter caught the flash of lust in Ricky's eyes.  "If you're liking
this scene, hand me the poppers and I'll do some more," Peter said. He gave
Ricky a popper-inspired spectacle of finger-fucking. Ricky contributed a
finger. They fucked in the same position. Peter's ankles rested in Ricky's
shoulders.

	Later, in aprčs-sexe, Ricky asked Peter if he minded talk about
clittie and pussy. "Not if it's role-playing, and not all the time," Peter
said. "If you wanted a fem, you wouldn't have chosen me."
      "I thought it was you who chose me," Ricky said.

      "Maybe it was a conspiracy between Göran and Grandma," Peter
mused.

      "That makes us three times chosen," Ricky said. "Next time we make
love, you will fuck me."


      * * * * * *


	In their cabin at Wallowa Lake Resort, Göran startled awake and
sat up in bed. His sudden movement woke Jack. "Bad dream?" he asked. "We
must go back!" Göran exclaimed.  "Back to Lakota?" "No, we must go back
to Ashawa."

      The next day they flew from Boise to Duluth by way of Minneapolis. It
was Jack's first time in northern Minnesota, so Göran showed him some of
the sights. They drove up the North Shore and back. They crossed the
lift-bridge to Park Point and walked along the beach. They skinny-dipped in
the cold waters of the 'Big Friendly'. "Why do they call it that?" Jack
asked.

      "Because it's a treacherous lake, with winds and currents," Göran
said. "See up ahead where the beach ends and the marshland begins? The
currents off the shore are treacherous there.  It's one of the places where
Albino hangs out.... Howard Coleman."

      "You know that?" Jack asked.

      "Not empirically. My intuition tells me he's been here," Göran
said. They walked to the end of the beach, where the sand mingled with
marshy reed-beds below a foggy miasma. "The shoreline looks different every
time I come here. A beach is a river of sand that flows in slow mition."

      "Are you getting a sense of Howard Coleman?" Jack asked.

      "Maybe," Göran murmured.

      "What we need from you are some psychic vibes," Jack said.

      "Psychic?- More like a dog that caught the scent of two roaming
wolves," Göran replied.

      Jack and Göran met Detective Harvey Winik for dinner at Harbor
Light Sports Bar. They went over their notes about the evidence they found
in South Dakota and Oregon. Harv reported the results of his efforts to
identify victims: "Two college boys- we followed up on a list of college
drop-outs that David Gabrioli emailed to me. We also identified an Ojibwe
kid reported missing by his family in Orr. The other news is that Tom Eidan
came to the Sheriff's Office on Friday, to tell Matthews that the FBI would
be joining our investigation, but he didn't plan to take over." Tom Eidan
was the senior FBI agent in Duluth.

      They visited two bars near the Duluth harbor. Neither Göran nor
Jack learned anything, but Harv found a guy who recognized Albino's
companion. "I saw him last week. He made a pass at me. That's all I
remember. I was here with my boyfriend," the guy said.

      "They're cruising the bars for victims, just like Göran said,"
Jack remarked.

      Göran and Jack followed Winik across the High Bridge and down to
the Superior harbor.  That's when Göran got animated. They visited three
bars, but came up empty. Then they visited Apollo's. It was crowded with
men of all ages: some preppies, some men in drag, and many wearing checked
flannel shirts and tight jeans with holes in the knees. A live band played
pop tunes while patrons took turns dancing solo on around a striptease pole
on the stage. Apollo's sponsored a striptease contest every Saturday night.

      "This is the place, I can feel it," Göran said. "Someone here has
seen Coleman."

      "Someone, but who?" Harv asked. "We'll never know, unless we can win
their trust."

      "I have an idea about that," Jack said. After the last
dance-competitor was done and the Master of Ceremonies was preparing to
collect ballots to determine a winner, Jack asked the MC if he could
perform. The MC looked him over. "Oooooo, of course you can dance,
sweetie," The MC said. "What's your name?"

      "I'm Jack," he said. "I'm a Lakota lawman visiting from South
Dakota... a sheriff, in fact." He showed his badge, and pinned it on his
dark blue shirt.

      The MC went to the microphone to announce him: "Girlfriends... and
boyfriends, we have a dark horse competitor who will blow your minds. He's
a red-blooded Sioux from South Dakota, and last but not least, he's a
county sheriff and has a badge to prove it. Give it up for Jack!"

      The crowd applauded. They oooed and cheered when Jack took the
stage. Jack asked the band to play "I Shot the Sheriff." He encouraged the
crowd to sing along. He unbuttoned his shirt to bare his chest, but kept
the shirt on to show off his badge. In sync with the music, he kicked off
his boots. He let one man in the crowd remove his right sock. A drag queen
captured his left sock. He unbuckled his belt, and let a third guy slide it
out of its loops while he swayed to the music. He unzipped his jeans and
groped the pole. He signaled to a preppy to join him on stage and lower his
jeans to his ankles. He stepped out of the jeans and kicked them aside. He
swayed energetically to display his basket. The song was over, so he
signaled to the band to play it again from the top. The crowd sang "I shot
the sheriff" while a guy in tight jeans lowered Jack's white
jockey-shorts. As his shirt-tails flapped around, the crowd caught glimpses
of his bare ass, which, as anyone could see, was sensational. He planted a
kiss on the lips of the band- leader, a lanky guitar-player with long
light-brown hair. Jack was no eyes-only faggot- he liked audience
participation. As the end of the song drew near, he signaled to a chubby
guy to join him on stage and help him out of his shirt, which he tossed to
Göran for safe-keeping because of the badge. When the chubby guy turned
to exit the stage, Jack took his hand and invited him to dance. They danced
holding hands as the song came to an end. Jack teased the crowd by hiding
behind his chubby partner, but then switched places while the crowd ogled
him swaying in his birthday suit. "You're a lucky guy, Göran," Harv
remarked. When it was over, Göran and Harv helped him back into his
clothes.