Psychic Detective 25 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 25 Adventure at Blue Mounds
Jack's and Calvin's journey to Lakota was not without incident. In Rock County- the southwestern corner of Minnesota- they exited Highway 90 to visit Blue Mounds State Park. "It's one of the best places in the country to see buffalo," Jack said. In the distance they saw a massive blue rock formation. A sign on the road said 'SIOUX CLIFF' with a directional arrow, and below in smaller letters, "Precambrian Quartzite Formation." They could see Sioux Cliff from a distance, a massive formation of blue rock. The road circled north, away from the cliff. They had to walk south on a trail to reach it. As they got closer, the cliff's coloration alternated between blue and pink. When they reached their destination, the quartzite was unmistakably pink.
"What's simultaneously blue and pink?" Calvin asked.
"I give up, what?"
"A Sioux!- blue in public and privately pink," Calvin said, playfully, and added, "Lucky for me."
"Maybe we're both lucky," Jack said.
They held hands atop Sioux Cliff, gazing down on a herd of buffalo a hundred feet below, feeding in a grassy plain powdered with the bright yellow flowers of prickly-pear cacti. "Cactuses, cacti, I think the correct form is cacti," Jack said.
Grass and cacti grew at the top of the cliff, too. Calvin picked a yellow flower and tucked it behind Jack's right ear. It wasn't a flamboyant display of affection, but anyone watching them would have assumed they were boyfriends.
"Someone's watching us," Jack said.
"Where?"
"To the east," Jack pointed. "You can see a glint of light off his field glasses."
Jack asked Calvin to drive. They left Blue Mounds and went north on a country road, the opposite direction from Highway 90, until they came to a tiny village called Auburn. A Shell station, a Baptist church and cemetery, five or six houses, a one-room schoolhouse, a general store, and a restaurant that doubled as a saloon- that's all there was to the village. While they filled up the gas tank at Shell, Jack said quietly, "We're being followed."
"How do you know? I didn't see anyone," Calvin said.
"It's a hunch. Maybe I'm wrong," Jack said.
Calvin parked parallel by the restaurant, where they ordered cheeseburgers and shakes. Jack was accustomed to being treated well when he visited restaurants in uniform. In this one, the middle-aged woman, who doubled as waitress and cook, was distinctly unfriendly. She kept looking out the window at the road. Maybe she's distracted because she's waiting for someone, Jack thought to himself.
"I think we should get back to the Interstate," Calvin said.
They stepped outside the restaurant. A police cruiser was parked next to their car. A cop in his thirties got out and approached them. "South Dakota, eh?" he said, inspecting Jack's ID. "Who's this, then?- Calvin Cohn, Duluth. Well, Mr. Cohn, I'm sorry to say you're under arrest."
"What do you mean, under arrest? What's the charge?" Jack asked, astonished.
"Vandalizing state property, and impersonating a law enforcement officer," the cop said.
"You must have us mistaken for someone else," Jack protested.
"No mistake. I've been following you since Blue Mounds," the cop replied.
"This is ridiculous!" Jack exclaimed.
"Ridiculous? Mr. Cohn vandalized a prickly-pear cactus in the state park," the cop said, "and he drove an official Sheriff's car, thereby giving the false impression that he was a law enforcement officer from Lakota County. I'm sure I'll have more charges after I've finished searching your car."
"My car is off limits," Jack said. "You don't have probable cause. I'm on official business in a Lakota County car. I've got confidential files and evidence that pertain to a felony murder. If you enter that car, you'll be compromising the custody of evidence, and I'll be filing a complaint to the Minnesota Attorney General."
The cop backed off, but despite Jack's protestations, he insisted that Calvin would have to appear before the Justice of Peace. "Fortunately, he's in the General Store, so we can take care of business right away," he said. Jack and Calvin followed the cop to the General Store.
A radio played country music. The proprietor and JP, Hugo Black, was taking inventory and singing "Mean Eyed Cat" along with Johnnie Cash- "I get my woman and my money from the general store...." He was a stout stud in his fifties, with unruly brown hair and wicked green eyes. He feigned disinterest in his visitors. "Courtroom's in the back of the store," he said, pointing without looking. "I'll be there in a few minutes." The cop conferred with Hugo Black while Jack and Calvin waited in the makeshift courtroom.
"Magistrate's court is in session," Hugo Black said pompously when he entered the room. He read the cop's police report about Calvin picking a yellow flower and driving the Sheriff's car under pretense of being a law enforcement officer. "How do you plead, Mr. Cohn?"
"These aren't violations," Jack protested.
"They are, in our little town," the JP said. "I'm entering a plea of 'Guilty' on Mr. Cohn's behalf. The fine is $500 for vandalism, and $2500 for impersonating an officer. You can pay the $3000 now, or I can hold Mr. Cohn in our little jail cell until the fine is paid."
"This is a shake-down. Even if we were willing to pay this fine based on trumped-up charges, we don't have $3000," Jack said. "We don't even have $300 between us."
"That's too bad," Hugo Black said. He looked Jack over, appraising his athletic figure and the promising bulge in his trousers. "Look, boys, I've got a proposition. You can work off the fine tonight and be on your way in the morning. I know you guys are lovers, but we'll keep that confidential. . It's not something you want your county commissioners to find out about from a magistrate. All you have to do is share the goods."
"You're harassing and exploiting a prisoner," Jack said.
"Not at all," Black said. "I'm not asking Mr. Cohn to do anything. I'm merely offering you the opportunity to work off the fine on his behalf. The minute you agree, Mr. Cohn will be free to go and the judgment against him will be quashed." He gave Jack an evil smile. "It's a good deal. You might even like it, and your secret will be safe with me."
This time it was Calvin who protested, but Jack said, "Enough, CC, I'll take the deal."
Hugo Black led Calvin outside the General Store, and locked the front door. He hung up a CLOSED sign, and led Jack up the stairs to his second-floor apartment. "We'll start with a shower, so get yourself naked. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said. From the top of the stairs, Jack overheard him on the phone. It sounded like he was inviting another man over.
When Calvin got out the front door, the cop was waiting for him. "So the JP let you off," he said. "Look, you've got a long wait, and you need a place to spend the night. You can hang out with me, if you're willing."
"What I gotta do?" Calvin asked.
"Nothing you haven't done before," the cop said. "My house is the ranch-style two miles up the road. You passed by it on the way here. You can come with me, or you can stay put for the night. As far as I'm concerned, you're a free man. You can do what you want."
Calvin noticed that the cop, a tall beefy guy in his thirties, wasn't bad looking. He had carrot-red hair, soft blue eyes, and a pair of pronounced dimples on his cheeks. His trousers were too tight around the ass, but most of his weight appeared to be muscle. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thought. He got into the cruiser. When they got to his home, the cop turned friendly. He introduced himself as Randolph O'Brian, "but you can call me Randy the Riveter," he laughed.
"My friends call me CC," Calvin said. "I guess we're gonna be friends."
"That's the spirit, CC! Can I buy you a beer?"
"Beer would be great," Calvin replied, "unless you've got something stronger."
"We're in the middle of a vast prairie. Of course I've got something stronger," Randy said. He led CC to a small corner bar in the dining room, where he had a dozen different forms of alcohol. "Maybe Jack Daniels, I think. Just the thing when you've had a rough day. Let's skip the glasses. We can just pass the bottle back and forth."
"Sure, we might as well," Calvin agreed. "Since we're gonna be exchanging liquids, we might as well start with the bourbon."
"I like the way your mind works, CC, you Vandal of Cactuses and Impersonator of Sheriffs," Randy laughed. "Is a game of strip poker possible?" He held up a deck of cards.
"Uh, oh, I'm afraid I never learned how to play poker," Calvin said. "I was raised in a strict religious home. The rabbi permitted cards, but my father didn't."
"In that case, I'll further your education," Randy said. "We'll play a few hands until you get the hang of it. Then we'll play for real."
Randy taught Calvin how to play Heads-Up Poker. "Usually a beginner would learn 'Five-Card Draw, but Heads-Up is better when there are only two players," he said. After an hour of instruction and practice, Calvin won a few hands and said he was ready to play for real.
"Good man!" Randy said. "You're a good sport, CC."
Hugo returned to his apartment. In the living room, Jack stood up to greet him, wrapped in a bath towel. "I thought I told you to get nekked," Hugo growled.
"Take it off yourself," Jack retorted. "I won't stop you."
Hugo groped the frontal lump in the towel. "Hmmm, very promising basket," he said. He moved behind Jack and ran his hand over the material that covered his butt. "I could get next to this," he muttered. He slipped his right hand under the towel and felt up the naked flesh of buns. Jack stood defiantly motionless. He didn't flinch when Hugo poked his butthole with a finger.
Hugo was a top's top, but as a short stocky stud in a tiny town on the prairie, he didn't get many opportunities. Jack saw the signs. He knew that Hugo took him for a top, and he was, in a way, for it was only after meeting Calvin that he willed himself into becoming a bottom. 'Seeing as how I'm gonna get fucked anyway, why not let Hugo enjoy his fantasy?' Jack reasoned. He knew how to be a reluctantly submissive hunk.
Hugo stood facing Jack and slipped a hand between his legs. His finger poked Jack's butthole again. Jack winced and frowned, but didn't resist. "You're gonna give me everything, boy," Hugo said evenly. He poked Jack's butthole again and got a wince and a groan. Hugo smiled approvingly at Jack's reaction. "Everything," he repeated, and poked Jack again. Jack stood stoic, like a saintly Sebastian.
Hugo pulled the towel off of Jack and whipped it in the air to a loud snap. He whipped it against Jack's butt a couple times. Jack didn't flinch. He examined Jack's body, head to toe, and fingered each cranny and protrusion. He frotted Jack's cleft. Jack's cock grew erect and throbbed. "Oh-ho!" Hugo exclaimed, gleefully. "The tough guy's got a soft spot after all, and it's in his butt." Jack stood passive and stoic. "Me cowboy, you bronco," Hugo said. Jack cracked a smile. He fondled Jack's balls and stroked his turgid cock. Jack kept his countenance stoic, but swayed his hips. Hugo sat on the sofa to watch the show. Knowing that Hugo wanted a stud, Jack's go-go gyrations showcased his groin, but his erotic musicless dance was not without ass- action. Jack ended his routine by mooning his butt. Hugo gave it a couple loud swats. "You've been a naughty boy, Jack. You're gonna get spanked and spunked, but first let's hit the shower."
In the narrow confines of the bathroom, Jack helped Hugo out of his clothes. From his shorts there emerged an accordion-surprise. Hugo's dick was just above average, seven inches erect, but it was the most voluminous, thickest cock he had ever seen or imagined. "My friends call me Blatz," Hugo said when Jack fondled it.
"Beer-can Blatz!" Jack exclaimed. "I think I'm gonna like this." He offered Hugo a kiss on the lips.
"I was hoping you'd get into this, Jack," Hugo said between kisses.
"I'm getting there, Blatz," Jack said.
"Time for viagra, then," Hugo said. They popped little blue pills and stepped into the shower. Soaping each other was anatomical exploration and foreplay. Jack must have had the squeakiest-clean ass in history. "You've got a really nice dick, Jack, intact and all, but I'm into butts, and yours is the sexiest," Hugo said. He gave Jack's butt a couple loud open-handed swats. Jack fondled Hugo's exceptionally generous foreskin. They took turns docking each other.
In the bedroom, foreplay took the form of spanking and oral endearments. Hugo swatted Jack's bottom, harder and different each time, and Jack reciprocated by kissing and tonguing Hugo's crannies and protrusions. The foreplay ended with Jack rimming Hugo. Huge flipped Jack on his front, flattened his back, swatted his butt, and drove his beer-can breeding-tube into Jack's bunghole.
"Bugger!" Jack exclaimed between groans, "bugger!"-in protest and command simultaneously, telling Blatz to do what he was already doing.
The first author to narrate a sequence of moves in a card game was Alexander Pope, in The Rape of the Lock (1712), which was expanded in 1714 to include, among other details, the sequence of cards laid down by golden-haired Belinda against her opponents in a game of ombre at an elegant party in Hampton Court. In a post-heroic, post-chivalric age, ombre was the closest an English aristocrat could get to fighting in battle, the 'battle of the cards' being an Augustan reprise of multiple duels in Homer's Iliad. Not to exclude acts of derring-do from Hampton Court altogether, a lascivious Baron- an unsuccessful suitor- attenuated Belinda's glory by cutting a lock of her hair with a scissors, during the moment of her victory-celebration. Complaints and quarrels ensued. Belinda threatened the Baron with her bodkin- a wicked hairpin. The comic double sense of 'bodkin'- a short javelin and a hairpin- is lost on modern readers. Notwithstanding a search, Belinda's golden lock was never found. According to the Poet, that's because it flew to the sky where it twinkles as a star, but I think the search wasn't thorough enough. Had they separated the villain from his trousers and rifled his linens, they would have found it nestled behind his scrotum.
Belinda was the name of one of three moons of Uranus that were known in 1714. The others were Umbriel and Ariel, who also appear as characters in The Rape of the Lock. The Uranian allusion is telling: 'the game of cards' was an idea with a future, in gay fictional episodes of strip poker. A classic from the 60s was "Seven in a Barn"- made into a movie in 1969- in which a straight-acting football star named John loses the game and serves as a sex- slave while the winner won the right to poke his ass. John's cherry-like Belinda's golden lock- was gone forever, but John couldn't complain, for the game was fair and square. In gay fiction ever since Seven in a Barn, many a guy has sacrificed his cherry in a game of strip poker.
And why not? Calvin was no virgin, but he identified as a top and didn't like getting fucked. "So much the better," Randy said. "I like fucking tops. Even more than that, I like fucking tops who don't like taking it up the ass. But I'll give you a fighting chance, CC. In our game of Heads-Up Poker, the loser takes off an article of clothing at the end of each hand. When one of us gets naked, we keep playing until he loses again and has no more clothing to concede. Once a guy gets naked in strip poker, all he's got left to lose is his ass. How will that be?"
On to Heads-Up Poker, then: Calvin held his own in the game. Hand for hand, Randy and Calvin shed shirt for shirt, belt for belt, shoe for shoe, sock for sock, jeans for jeans. It would be scurvy of me to suggest that to keep the game even, Randy threw a hand or two. After Calvin lost the antepenultimate hand and got naked, Randy lost the penultimate hand and got naked too, not by throwing the game, but by his inattention to it- he couldn't keep his eyes off Calvin's erect circumcised cock. He hadn't seen many of those.
Down to the wire on the last hand, Calvin was dealt four face-cards while Randy had three. But Calvin was a novice at poker. Randy took advantage by claiming a hand that Calvin had won. In a word, Randy cheated. "You played a good game, CC, but you just lost your ass," Randy said, smiling wickedly, and swept up the cards in one hand. He led Calvin to the bedroom. Calvin breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a stack of condoms beside the lube-tube on the dresser.
All the while when they embraced and fondled and sucked cock, Randy fingered Calvin's cleft and his hole. He noticed that Calvin responded when he wriggled a fingertip at the rim of his hole. He concentrated on that. Still, Calvin was skittish. "You really are almost virginal, aren't you, CC?" Randy said. He offered Calvin a vibrator. Calvin groaned when Randy pushed it inside him, but he got used to it. "Tighten your sphincter around the vibrator, CC," Randy said. He did.
"I don't feel much," Calvin said.
"That's because I haven't turned the vibrator on yet," Randy said.
With the tenderness of an empathetic lover who had just screwed his boyfriend with too much cruelty, Hugo used a soft red hankie to wipe santorum around Jack's battered portal. Hugs and kisses made amends for the beer-can breach of his butt. Jack still panted with lust, but Hugo told him to wait, as they were expecting a visitor.
"The guy you telephoned earlier?"
As they were speaking, an almost bald wiry man in his fifties, with sharp facial features and piercing dark eyes, unlocked the door with his key and entered the apartment. Hugo donned his jockey-shorts and greeted him in the living room. Jack followed, in shorts. Hugo introduced the stranger as Tim Donner.
Jack didn't want to way or think what was obvious, that Donner had come as an invited guest to a three-way fuck-fest in which he was the designated catcher. Jack's first impulse was to decline the honor, but Blatz had been a blast that left him unsatisfied, so he went along with the threesome- reserving the right to opt out if the sex got unpleasant. Tim Donner carried a small gym bag. Jack wondered what was in it.
Hugo took prurient delight in pimping Jack. He explained that Donner owned the building- not the General Store itself, but the building it was in-and the rent was $500 a month. "Donner will credit me for this month's rent in exchange for your ass, Jack," Hugo said, "so you see, you're working off more than the $3000 fine."
Running his hands over Jack's body, Donner marveled at his athleticism. "This one's a great specimen, Blatz," he said. "You've outdone yourself this time. Are you sure you've got him trained?"
"I just fucked the shit out of him and got no complaints," Hugo said.
Donner stood behind Jack and lowered his shorts. An inaudible sign got a smile from Jack. He parted his legs and arched. Donner explored the best ass he'd ever seen. "You're already pretty well lubed," he said, speaking directly to Jack for the first time. He dug into his gym bag for a leather collar and fastened it around Jack's neck. Then he dug out a leash and fastened it to the collar. He led Jack by the leash to the bathroom, where they soaped each other in the shower. Jack found himself warming up to Donner, and to the game they were playing. Maybe that was because he was still horny from his session with Blatz.
In the bedroom, Donner pinched Jack's nips. Jack and Donner knelt facing each other. Out of his gym bag came a pair of nip-clamps on a pull-chain. "Are you ready for this?" Donner asked, but it wasn't a question. He fondled Jack's cock.
"I'll be ready as I'll ever be," Jack said.
"From now on you must address me as Sir or Master," Donner said.
"Yes Sir, Master, Sir," Jack said, getting his mind into the game. Donner clamped his nips, and pulled the chain and the dog-leash simultaneously. Then he let go the leash. With one hand he finger-fucked Jack's butt, and pulled at the nip-chain with the other. Donner slipped his hand between Jack's legs and inserted a finger.
"Give it a squeeze," Donner said.
"Sir, yes Sir," Jack said, and squeezed. Jack got the message. Each time Donner pulled the nip-chain, Jack gave his finger a squeeze.
Tim had no trouble maintaining an erection, but when he was circumcised as an infant, a mistake in the surgical procedure made it impossible to climax in a normal way, not even with the aid of viagra or Cialis. "I need extra stimulation to get off," Donner said. "That's why the sex toys, but it works for me only if you're getting pleasure, too."
"I'll give it a try," Jack said, and corrected himself: "I'll give it a try, Master."
"You must do more than try, Jack. You must succeed," Donner said. Out of his gym bag came a string of anal beads. "I call these my Black Pearls." Jack doggie-styled and arched. For Donner, it was Jack's best profile. He was into male butts, and stuffed black pearls into Jack, one at a time. Jack felt a dull fullness. He flipped Jack on his back, ass-perched at the end of the bed, and stood over him, between his legs. He pulled the beads out, one by one, while Jack jacked himself. "Well-jacked, Jack," he said when swaths of jism splotched Jack's abdomen. Suddenly he plowed into Jack, and humped until he spooged. Hugo took Donner's place, and gave him another dose of Blatz with his fleshy beer-can.
"I've had enough," Jack said. "Can we get some sleep now?" Donner made his exit. Hugo went downstairs to resume his inventory in the store, and let Jack sleep.
The vibrator had its desired effect on Calvin. He lay on his back, and moaned when Randy turned it on. Calvin writhed around vibrations until Randy substituted cock and missioned him. Calvin didn't resist when Randy flipped him and flattened his back. He fucked Calvin from behind.
Next morning at the restaurant, Jack, Calvin, Hugo, and Randy met for breakfast. This time the waitress was friendly. The foursome laughed about adventures of the preceding day, and swapped stories about the nocturnal games that followed. "We wouldn't have tried it, if I hadn't already seen that you guys are lovers," Randy said. "It's not my place to criticize, but maybe you guys should be more careful."
"If we'd been more careful, you guys would never have met us," Calvin said.
Jack invited them to visit Lakota sometime. "Who knows?- Maybe I'll show you the inside of MY jail!" he quipped.