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.