Report of a Kidnapping

Going to ballets with friends is always good, besides fun you get to know people outside of that everyday environment. That's how I thought until a few months ago as a member and leader of the graduation committee for my class in college one of my roles was promoting parties which would help fund all ceremonial costs and dancing celebrations we were mid-June just before vacation nothing more timely than a June party entitled country duo from hit ballads at the time Everything organized was just waiting for invitations distributed by the class, posters spread all over campus and more word of mouth from jail to take effect generating a good income on our account.

It was a freezing cold night on that third Saturday of the month. Clear, starry skies and full moon crowned the party in an enchanting place which anyone would swear to be in some corner of the countryside but only few kilometers from the capital city. I arrived early to check if everything went as planned and with the help of some colleagues we solved last-minute issues by adjusting what still needed to make this event a success. Meanwhile people were arriving exceeding our expectations and making the gallery smile ear to ear with prospects for profit.

A couple who were successful with college country music, whose manager I ran after for four months, was the icing on the cake and two beginner bands, whose members saw in the party an opportunity to publicize their work, were the attractions of the night. Total success, dawn lights beginning to delineate in the sky, a chilling air that made your bones freeze, and a nice tiredness that every end-of-party brings you back.

I left the highway access loop to enter the wide avenue, where lights were going out almost in the same sequence as we traveled along their route. I dropped off my two friends at one of them's house on a tree-lined alley a few blocks ahead. On returning to the avenue I followed until the first turn so that I could begin the route home. A closed traffic light prevented me from continuing while another car was parked on my right. Two thugs came down with guns in their hands and forced me out of the window, unlocked the door and pulled me off the steering wheel forcing me to follow them wearing a hood covering my head up to my neck and arms tied by plastic straps. I was shoved into what I thought was the trunk of an automobile because I heard another vehicle braking around us abruptly and more doors slamming. At 5'10" tall and 180 pounds it was difficult to manage myself in that tiny space not without violently hitting my head somewhere. Curled up in a fetal position, I realized that we were moving at high speed because I was being thrown against a rigid surface which hurt my back while the tires sang and made the car slide. We drove for quite some time with tingling sensations in my legs and painful headaches from where it had hit me, shortness of breath and increasing nausea. And then I started to feel angry at myself, remorseful for being reckless that early in the morning and not paying attention if someone was following me because of a series of missteps I innocently thought could have been avoided.

When the car came to a stop, I could no longer feel my legs.

"You're such an asshole! I told you to take him straight there. It's not safe to be running around with him in the trunk. Come on, and call me only when he is at his appointment". said a hoarse voice full of rage.

'I had to give it a rest because the scheme was not clean there!' exclaimed another fellow, no less annoyed but more servile.

The car swayed as if more than one person were boarding, and the doors slammed before it turned again. My nausea didn't go away, and I couldn't get over the sickening smell of the pit that was covering my head. We drove for a while longer until we finally stopped and the trunk lid opened. A strong hand grabbed me by the arm and awkwardly pulled me out, causing me to scrape through cinnamon on its sharp edge.

<unk> Wait, my leg is asleep! I shouted before falling down on a hard surface.

Get up and go, my executioner commanded.

"I can't. Wait, I need to take a break".

"Your time is up, you piece of shit!" he added in a different tone.

I gathered all my strength to stand up. The hand that held my arm began guiding me, threatening not to deviate from the path because it could roll down a precipice and really didn't matter much if I fucked myself. I walked alongside two or three people who were grunting in low tones - words I couldn't distinguish. Almost tripped on a step and realized we were entering a building, hit my shoulder against a wall and was shoved onto a soft surface almost close to the ground. Someone removed the plastic tape from my wrists, footsteps circled around me, a door slammed and I heard the lock being locked. I could still hear people talking farther and further away until there was almost total silence. I took off my hood and continued in the dark; I could distinguish perfectly between my racing heartbeat and when my legs stopped throbbing, I got up and started groping through the walls till I found a switch next to the only door of a room no larger than eight or nine square meters. A pale yellow light partly illuminated the blue walls as soon as I turned it on. All that was in it were a double mattress, a pillow still wrapped up, a blanket and a tattered sheet upon which they had thrown me; the mattress lay at one corner of the room just below a lattice-worked window reinforced with bolts from which locked padlocks hung; there also fell an iron hook to which a chain had been fastened against the wall; I tried to open the lock and began knocking at the door begging for release, but all was silence. I started to worry about my parents, the car that had been abandoned on a public road and what would become of me from then on. My sense of time was gone; the light streaks permeating through the flashes of jealousy were no longer there, and as my stomach twitched despite the nausea I still felt, I thought it must have been quite some hours since I'd locked myself in there. I heard dogs barking far away before everything sank back into silence again. I began to fear for my life and sobs started shaking me all over, until exhausted by the night obviously lost consciousness. Woke up frightened in a jerk reminding myself of the sequence of events that had brought me there, then fell back into an agonizing lethargy. Cried out for help till I felt my throat burn and convinced myself that I was alone. Was growing old when finally persuaded myself that it only remained to wait until someone returned wrapped myself in blankets and laid her head on pillows and everything went off.

I woke up with a man kicking me. He held a cardboard plate on which was a bread roll and a plastic cup of coffee, whose smell invaded my nostrils and awakened me for good. It was the same fat guy with an unfinished beard who had pulled me out of the car and put his hood over my head. I rubbed my eyes trying to dispel this image that I attribute to a bad dream, but it did not go away.

"Did you sleep well, Cinderella? No jokes!" she said without taking her eyes off my movements.

<unk> Why am I here? I want to leave, let me out.

<unk> No jokes, I've already warned you! You will stay here until your daddy sends what we are asking for. Until then it is good that you behave yourself. If not, this can be very ruinous for you.

<unk> My father is traveling. He doesn't have a date to come back. I retorted. <unk> Let me go out. It's money you want, in the briefcase that's on my car there's cash, keep it and let me go.

"That shit ain't nothing! We want money, not that". He fought back menacingly.

Resignedly I stretched out my arms and took hold of the plate. Swallowed bread and coffee like a starving man. When he threatened to leave the room, I asked him to go to the bathroom. He pulled handcuffs from his pocket and tried to tie me up with them but on hearing my pleas for help and promising not to try to escape, led me down a narrow corridor to the second door on the same side as the bedroom. With his foot preventing me from closing it, he leaned against the stool while I urinated under his watchful gaze.

<unk> If I need to go to the bathroom again, how do I do it?<unk> I asked naively.

"Ring the bell, for your butler is coming to see you!" he said wryly.

I was locked up again and waited for the hours to pass. Counting, counting all one hundred twenty-eight Venezuelan palettes, taking a breath on the seventy sixth where a defect between distances allowed entry of the widest trace of light coming from outside. It projected a torch onto the opposite wall almost near the ceiling. The fixture that hung from the ceilings was crooked and only one lamp had been inserted into three possible nozzles. I tried to decipher the stain on the wall where the mattress was leaning, there were moments when I thought it looked like a galloping horse after being two trees whose cups intertwined. I did not know if it was day or night and cried again. Despair made my imagination soar. Would they kill me with a shot just like that, quick, perhaps without much pain? Or would they hang me but somewhere in the room no way? Or will they torture me until death comes over slowly and painfully? The broadest beam of light had disappeared; then night ended. I had to go to the bathroom and was hungry, so I knocked on the door screaming my lungs out. It took at least a quarter of an hour before the key moved in the lock.

"I need to go to the bathroom", I said, when I saw that same guy who brought me coffee.

The recommendation is the same, no jokes.

Close the door, please. I don't just need to pee this time.

Don't even think about it! Do what you have to do and try not to be late. I don't have all day to page you". He fought back, with the face of few friends.

When we returned to the room, I noticed that someone had left another cardboard plate with an aluminum wrapper, two plastic cutlery and a glass of water on the mattress.

"Dinner is served, my lord!" he quipped before turning his back and closing the door.

I'm thirsty, can you give me another glass of water?

"Take that one, then I'll think about your case". He said as he locked the door.

So one day had passed, the fading beam of light indicated that it was night time. Moreover he said dinner was served so besides kidnapping day this is first day I thought about it while trying to swallow bean with rice a steak and some lettuce leaves drenched in aluminum wrapper everything was cold but still i ate almost all then long after our subject came back with a pitcher of water and disposable glass

"Thank you!" I said, looking at him without any hurt or negative feeling. Just with a grateful look that he had not been attacked and was giving me the minimum conditions to stay alive.

"It was worth it!" she replied, without any irony in her eyes.

My name is Eduardo. May I know your name?

"I know what your name is. What's it to you? Call me by whatever name you want". he replied rudely.

<unk> Just so you know, and to say your name when I go thank you for bringing me food.

"My name is Mark", he said, convinced that I was not trying to deceive him.

"So thank you, Mark!" I replied with a shy smile.

"Very well!" he said, closing the door.

The days went on as predictably as the hands of a clock. Now the window remained open for several hours, which made it possible to know whether it was day or night; I could also sit in the sunshine that entered through it. I could see part of a well-kept garden, high walls, some trees grouped beside them, and the rooftops of some houses far away. I imagined this to be an apartment building. Also I realized that the house had gained new tenants because every now and then I heard the voice of a woman and one or two children with whom she would quarrel. A couple of times, she brought the food. She was a brunette with thick legs and broad hips and shoulders; her hair dyed blond with dark roots appearing over an exaggerated yellow. Her looks were vulgar, poorly made-up makeup, very tight clothing, and extravagant gestures made her even more decadent. I missed counting days between twenty-fifth and or maybe it was twenty eight? I knew that my father had been in South Korea on a business trip. They should have warned him and he hurried back trying to rescue me. How much do you think they asked for? My father is a successful businessman, but maybe the negotiations weren't going as they should have. The police knew everything? What was happening outside those four walls? It hurt my head when I started thinking about it. How would this story end? A lump formed in my throat and I could only swallow it with tears rolling down my face.

"But you're a loose cannon, huh?" said Mark when he brought me the food.

<unk> I keep wondering how my family is, what's going on for me to stay here? <unk>I replied by wiping my face with the back of my hand.

<unk> It's all about morality! Your daddy will release the money, it is a matter of time. If he plays hard, we have some way to convince him easily, easy. " He retorted threateningly.

It was the fourth time I'd showered in all these days. Embarrassingly, I would undress myself and go into a bathroom to bathe and dry off my clothes, then put on another change of clothing - all under surveillance and indiscretion from watchful eyes and malicious remarks about my sculptural nakedness. The first time Marcos took me to the toilet besides some soap and towel he gave me shorts and T-shirts for which he had asked me the number the day before. My shorts were tight, with side slits opening up when wearing them, exposing the fold between my buttocks and thighs. The other times it was the same towel and soap, shorts and T-shirt. They were low quality clothes, and I had a feeling that they were intentionally bought in smaller numbers than what I'd mentioned.

"You're a fucking hottie, aren't you daddy boy?" he remarked with ill-intention.

"Let me bathe alone. There's no way out of this bathroom except through that door, why don't you lock it and I will let you know when you are ready?"

"And to lose this landscape, a pair of protruding titties and those fleshy buttocks, no way!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

The other times he just watched me and manipulated his cock under my pants, but this time he showed up all in bermuda, very keen to take me for a bath. I hadn't heard the voice of anyone else around the house for two days and assumed that we were alone or at most with two security guards who could be seen from my bedroom window circling the garden. Taking me back to the room, he took out a pair of handcuffs from my bermuda pocket and made me lie face down on the mattress, closing them around my wrists and collapsed ring in the wall under my useless protests and pleadings.

"Quiet, if you don't want things to get worse for yourself!" he exclaimed harshly.

He pulled my shorts up to the ankles, exposing my vulnerable butt to his taras; he stripped off the bermuda that I wore and threw his fat hairy body on my slightly moist skin smelling of fresh bathing. He delighted in his bowed and subjugated prey, panting and moaning with the pleasure that soft skin of my buttocks gave him on furry groin. No matter how hard he struggled with pelvic movements, he couldn't get close to my ass protected by a closed gullet and protruding glutes with its six-centimeter pinus at risk. I would reach up onto the mattress as forcefully as he pushed it, but the pussy wouldn't reach my pink doughnut. With uncontrolled hornyness and his efforts incapable of fulfilling his desires, he scoffed before I could feel his roll being wrapped around my warm ass licking my reins with a seldom watery fuck. I felt my back wet from the sweat that poured out of his exhausted body as he gasped for effort expended. A wave of relief at not having been violated ran down my spine, and I waited resignedly for him to rise up and get off me. I went back into the shower to wash off my gum that had stuck on his butt, and he ducked in with me underneath the showers, passing his hand over my body and rinsing out a spit which almost disappeared beneath its protruding flaccid abdomen. After this, I became afraid of baths where I sensed an opportunity for him to fuck me. However, none of his attempts succeeded.

For almost a week it was the blonde woman who brought me my food, and two other meek individuals that accompanied me to the bathroom with the truculence and stupidity of outsiders. This happened after another heated argument between this bald man's voice I had identified when I was taken into captivity and Marcos' voice. I imagined they were having some disagreement for some reason, which could explain Marcus' absence. During this period, for two nights, I heard sounds coming from the adjacent room. It was the scandalous moans and laughter of a blonde, mixed with obscenities uttered by her hoarse voice.

"Ride your man's cock, you hot dog!" she whimpered.

Oh, my little buzzard you rude knight! The blonde spoke in the hysterics of fucking. Suck on my boobs, they taste good. He corrected it with a laugh

I then realized that they were making Mark a horn. She probably wasn't satisfied with her husband's tiny cock, or whatever it was she had and took advantage of his absence to have fun with this guy who might be the father of those children. I had been there for so many days that I began to understand precariously the conjuncture of the situation: details, loose sentences, scenes unfolding under the bedroom window, sounds permeating rooms in the house all formed one continuum which gradually became more comprehensible. A more intense movement of both people in the house and cars coming and going, me being left unattended for longer hours or having my mouth sealed with duct tape for a few periods meant that something was happening outside those four walls oppressing me. My fear at these moments grew greater, the uncertainty about my future became catastrophic, and I felt a palpitation eating away my strength and sanity.

After a particularly agitated day, when after consulting the clock according to Mark it was already past midnight he appeared with his bathing utensils. I obeyed his orders for fear of contradicting his peculiarly harsh tone at that hour. Finishing the ritual bath I was again handcuffed and subjugated naked upon the mattress. As he rubbed himself on me making his scales sack over my motionless body the door was violently kicked open, and in an instant four enormous subjects came screaming into the room.

"Police! Police! Get up!" shouted one of them, shoving a rifle into Marcos's back as he struggled to get all that fat off me and straighten himself out. While another whose vision was clouded by the ceiling lamp so I couldn't see straight, stuck his barrel right in my face.

"Get up!" he shouted, before realizing that I was handcuffed to the wall.

Just when I thought about screaming, a hand pulled the barrel of my gun away from my face and began to uncuff me, freeing my bruised fists from those shackles. As soon as I was able to stand upright and distinguish between men wearing bulletproof vests like police officers, all fear and pain seized over me in an almost hysterical convulsive crying fit.

"Help! Help me, please! I've been kidnapped!" I said in a piercing and suffocating lament as I hung on the neck of this man who was tall and stiff like rock wearing jeans, black polo shirt that matched his chest musculature.

I almost suffocated him with the force of my hands around his colossal and muscular neck, while my chest tightened against the waistcoat that made it even wider and more solid. One of his arms wrapped itself round my thorax and I recalled being naked from the midsection downward with a fleshy buttocks sensuously exposed. He held me up and his almond-shaped serene eyes absorbed all my anguish although I could not stop sobbing.

"Calm down, it's over. You are free and all is well!" he said in a serious, slow tone. "Let us get you out of here". He exclaimed, addressing the man standing next to him.

As we walked through the living room, there was at least a battalion of officers and about a dozen people lying on their stomachs on the floor. Among them I could recognize Blondie, Marcos, two soft-spoken men with haughty looks and hoarse voices; another woman and several others who were guarding the garden. An officer approached me and my bodyguard with a towel that he himself had wrapped around my waist as my arms remained clinging to his jacket and those of the man who rescued me.

<unk> You will need to come with us for a medical examination, we have to gather evidence and ascertain if everything is alright with you, especially after seeing this guy raping you.

"I want to go home! Please take me home!" I pleaded, my eyes filling up with tears again.

<unk> I know what you've been through is hard, but we have to do this. Then I guarantee that I will take you home. Be strong just a little while longer. <unk> He proposed with such confidence that I was unable to resist, letting him drive my emaciated and exhausted body in the energy of his vigorous arms.

A doctor in a sweatshirt and friendly smile pointed to me on a stretcher in the corner of an office that was brightly lit by two sash windows and large skylights.

"Take off your shirt and towel, lie down on the bed", he said in a soft calm voice.

I looked at the man who had brought me with a pleading, fearful look. He shook his head positively and sketched out a timid smile. I obeyed before being palpated and having my buttocks sliced open by the doctor's shaggy hands. My pink ass was left to the predatory gaze of those males whose condition required decorum. I related how many times Mark took delight in my butt and that he did not penetrate it on any occasion due to its diminutive beak. The two stared into each other with restrained satisfaction. Out of embarrassment I had to follow up with a federal police superintendent's office where I needed to formally identify my executioners.

"All right, that's it! Now I will take you home. I will get your testimony in a few days when you are calmer". He explained with the same unwavering expression which had accompanied all his actions.

It was a relief when I saw the familiar faces waiting for me in comforting anxiety at my doorstep, and that's where it literally unfolded to me. The real dimension of what had happened came out, and I was grateful that life had spared me, given me a chance to start over again; I was thinner, having nightmares, jumping on even the smallest stimulus, recounting my drama hundreds of times -- either to friends who visited me, or to those who called indignantly asking about my well-being.

A week later, the maid interrupted my late breakfast by notifying me that Superintendent Roberto and an assistant were waiting for me on the garage ramp.

Ask him to come in, Marcia and take him into the office before he swallows his last two sips of juice.

"Good morning! I see you are much better, more flushed and without eyelashes". said the delegate as he greeted me effusively while holding my hand between his. This time he was wearing a lead-grey suit, shirt with very thin stripes in blue and white, and navy tie with tiny designs on low relief. The structured coat highlighted his broad shoulders and made him even more portentous, and the sleeves barely contained the huge biceps that formed a protrusion on each arm.

<unk> Good day delegate! Thanks to you, I'm alive and at home. <unk> I replied with gratitude. ‬ Moreover, I did not thank him as I should have done on that fateful day. I don't know how to do it because anything I can say is small compared to what he has done for me.

<unk> We'd been monitoring the gang for months. We had access to all of their movements as they were bringing in a large drug shipment. It was surprising to learn that there was one hostage during the robbery. The civilian police who accompanied his abduction, it was only on the day we learned that this same gang was trying to extort money from your father. <unk> He explained professionally.

But you saved me! That's not how I thank God, even if he lives a hundred years.

<unk> Don't call me sir! My name is Roberto. And I would like to take your testimony, if you feel that you are in a position to give me the details. Maybe this will take some time, OK?

<unk> Yes, of course! I don't know if I can help it. For forty-three days I was locked in that room where you...I mean, you found me, Roberto.

"OK! Thank you very much". she replied, as they both followed in my footsteps.

He listened to me diligently. The assistant was recording my information on a computer, while he sometimes interrupted me by asking for more detail or making some observation. More than four hours later we concluded the testimony and before he made any mention of saying good-bye I invited him out for lunch with all naturalness as one who had known him long ago. And he accepted.

I saw Deputy Roberto a few more times, maybe to clear up some doubts or if there were any other details on an issue that he could go into in detail. It was simple things which can be solved with one phone call but he always insisted we meet face-to-face. So I went back to school and tried my best to recover from the old life as much as possible but still felt this frightening oppression that sometimes left me depressed and unwilling to leave home. On one of those occasions, on a rainy Saturday in September, I was finishing up my college assignment when I went to put back a book onto the office shelf and from the shelf fell a card where Roberto had written down his phone numbers for me just in case I needed anything. The image of his angular, penetrating face came to my mind and although I didn't quite know what to say to him, it made me want to call in order to listen to the deep, resonant voice that had so calmed me down during this whole episode.

It's Kadu, Carlos Eduardo from the kidnapping.

"Hello! How's it going? Are you okay? Can I help you?" said the quiet but perceptively happy voice on the other end.

You said to call me if you needed anything. Well, actually I don't need it, everything is fine. It's just that I am still a little sad, sorry for bothering you with my insecurity.

"I'm glad you called. If I may, I would like to invite you for a snack later", he replied enthusiastically.

"I don't know if I'm in the mood for friends at a bar".

"It's not a circle of friends. It will be just the two of us. We can talk freely and you tell me what is troubling you". He replied, fearing that his invitation would be refused.

I said, more confident.

"I'll come by your house at nine, all right?" she asked.

I was rebuilt from that oppressive feeling, and began to feel happy.

Roberto was thirty-two years old, after law school he had auditioned for the position of federal police commissioner and made a meteoric rise to superintendent; many colleagues already saw him as likely department head. But his private aspirations were different: He dreamed of a solid career in an own office focusing on international contracts and large mergers. Criminal law did not appeal to him but allowed him to live comfortably and begin shaping his future. Like the vast majority of a generation of new delegates, he had the muscular body and resourcefulness of a gallant American soap opera hero who with his muscle and intelligence fought iron and fire against the thugs that oppressed society.

He was on time. At nine o'clock, he parked his pickup truck in the driveway of our garage. I hugged him more intimately than we had a superficial relationship and until then purely professional would have recommended. But when I wanted to restrain my impulse, he already returned with an embrace so intense that it pulled me against his chest. He asked if I could suggest some place where he might want to go. It was a mixture of ballad bar, tavern, themed club and haunt spot, we arrived early and the venue was almost empty, which allowed us to get a table near the dance floor. Soon the house was bubbling and we could barely hear each other's voices on the small table between us. Though still smiling and kind, I noticed that he felt out of place and uncomfortable.

"I must apologize to you. It was not a good idea for us to come here because I know almost only places frequented by the university gallery, and if our purpose is conversation we could have chosen no worse place", he said frustrated at the suggestion.

"It doesn't matter. I am glad to be here with you, and particularly flattered that you remembered to call me". He remarked politely.

"I am at your disposal! It's the least I can do after this disaster".

"Hummmmm, that's good!" he muttered maliciously.

While we waited for the driver to bring his car in, he asked me if I was serious when I said that it was on him. His eyes were glowing and he gave me a naughty wink.

<unk> You gave me carte blanche to choose the location.

We arrived at a nearly unfurnished apartment. From the sliding glass doors that led to a terrace, you could see the silhouette of spikes all around and much of the surroundings as the building was on a hillside. The night was chilly, late winter weather had cleared away clouds and let an almost full moon illuminate the starless sky typical for metropolises. I went up to the railing to glimpse the scenery. The only sounds that reached me came from the few cars passing down the street below. I felt Roberto's eyes fixed on me, even though I had not turned towards him. Shortly afterwards he leaned over the parapet beside me and stood silently contemplating the same landscape. I wanted to bring up something just to break that silence which was making me a little uneasy, but it seemed as if whatever words I said would be inappropriate, so I decided to keep quiet. His shoulder slipped into mine from time to time; I could feel his body radiating warmth and this calmed me down.

<unk> I bought this apartment with the intention of moving here after marriage.

"It's very beautiful. I mean, the view from here is really nice. You won't be bored".

<unk> We broke off our engagement three months ago!

I don't even know what to say. Is there anything worth saying in a situation like this?

"It was my initiative. There's no way to go on". he said enigmatically.

So someone or something made you make that decision.

"You!" she exclaimed, without looking away from the horizon.

"What do you mean, I haven't even known you for three months?"

"One hundred and twenty-six days!" he repeated slowly.

"I don't understand how the fact that you know me could be a reason for breaking off your engagement", she said, without touching on the relationship between facts.

<unk> When you hung around my neck trembling with fear, your little bundle uncovered, heart shot in the chest and fingers clenched at the back of my head, something very strong happened to me. And I had a desire to protect you, to give you that security which you so badly needed".

I tried to organize my thoughts and assimilate his words, but they shook me like a strong wind that makes us grab our clothes and hold them tightly against the body as it blows at us. Meanwhile time passed by and silence tortured me again.

I don't even know what to say!

"Don't say it. Kiss me!" he asked, looking into my eyes and resting his hands on my shoulders.

Our faces were only a few inches apart. I placed my hands on that warm chest, which expanded with his slightly anxious breathing. I felt Roberto's breath upon my lips before kissing him and touched them at his half-open mouth. He pulled me against his body and squeezed his mouth into mine so intensely that I sucked the hot air out of it. My hands strode across his torso in sensual and affectionate frenzy as he clasped me in his arms making bicep movements rhythmically. I raised my arms to wrap them around his neck, slide my fingers underneath his dark hair, gently touch the skin of his nape. He used his own mouth to open mine carefully and affectionately. His virile taste and sensation flooded me; for a split second doubts were consumed by the blind irrational recognition of the need to keep him there, give myself up to him in order to appease his want and let it provide an outlet for the itching that was contorting his genitalia.

He pulled my shirt off his head in a bold, impetuous movement right there on the terrace underneath the moon that bathed my clear skin with its cold silver light. My nipples twitched with an unexpected shiver running down the back of my spine; he touched them simultaneously with his fingertips and watched excitedly as they blossomed between his thick toes, and began to squeeze them delighting himself in their spontaneous hygiene. In a flurry I pulled his face towards them, causing their lips to rub against each other; and when he bit one of them with the sharpness of his teeth, I let loose a short beak expressing all the excitement that dominated my body. Roberto chewed and sucked on my little breast until the skin around its nipple acquired a reddish-purple hue, and its outline projected into a sensual conical bulge. When his hands slipped up to my butt, and he squeezed my buttocks as if he were sipping a loaf of bread, I tied him again around the neck and hung myself on it by leaping and wrapping my legs round his waist. He walked me through the apartment with our lips sealed together into one of the rooms where an ample bed with its padded sheets and pillows that hid the scent of cinnamon and sandal from him received my naked body in the cautious languor with which he lay down upon her. My butt was already exposed, he'd pulled down my pants and underpants as he carried me into the room and abused her. He stared at me with his eyes fixed on mine expectant glance and facial expressions while his hand impatiently stroked the velvety skin of the enormous buttocks that rested upon it.

I pulled off the polo shirt he was wearing until she came out, her hair tangling. The broad torso was lined with dark hairs that formed two whirlpools at nipple-height and descended through his abdomen into a dense ridge which widened again when it reached his underpants' buttocks. It was an all-encompassing masculine mirage. He stripped down completely and on his knees walked across the mattress to where I stood. Like a peacock, he stagnated with wide open thighs and sunk chest near my face. From this vantage point you could get a full intimidating view of the man. Between the thick, hairy thighs hung a heavy straight and truncated scroll that ended in a glittering head protruding into the shape of an enormous mushroom. At its other end it seemed to rest on a pair of testicles whose oval outline was moulded within a swallowed sac covered with dense combs. The whole conveyed all the manliness and potency of a male. It was rough and forceful but at the same time sensitive and delicate - something which could only be handled with respect, care and especially very affection.

I searched his gaze with wide, apprehensive eyes. There was in its penetrating glance something of a plea, an order that caution required not to be verbalized into words. And I obeyed it. At first timidly, I took my long thin fingers up to its caliber cock and stirred them until I could touch the gland by gentle lip-touching. It reacted, beginning to take on a life of its own; I licked it at full length before wrapping it around her moist lukewarm mouth. She grew steady, began to become juicy, and I would lick it feeling the slow metamorphosis through which she passed. I sucked the head of it and felt its juice pouring out, flooding my mouth with a peculiar tasty taste.

He made me turn on my stomach and shoved a pillow underneath my belly. Opening up my legs, he walked over to the side of my butt spreading his buttocks until I was smooth as dirt. A tiny radiating slightly pink crevice pointed him toward the doorway of my asshole. His tongue touched it with its tip while his beard closed and by doing so pinching my bum making me groan uncontrollably. This drove him crazy, disarmed him from shame, and he stepped forward onto his defenseless backside. Spasms shook my body convulsively as he turned me over, put his hands on the bends of my knees and opened up my legs like a compass. The jeba pinotating was rubbed into the bottom of my groin until it pointed at the whimpering ass. I felt pressure to get my sphincters open but inexperience and off-balance blocked them from every attempt by him. He began brutalizing movements until he could overcome my resistance and make the enlarged head of the coccyx invade my butt and suffer painful moaning. I was blowing with my hands spread across his chest while he waited diligently for my anal muscles to encapsulate his cock so that he could keep putting it into this warm, cozy receptacle. The movements of his pelvis were agile and vigorous, causing the roller to stockpile my bowels in a rhythm now slow and smooth, then fast and bombastic, which made me feel her pulsing wildly against wet walls and increasingly skinned from my butt. The world seemed reduced to our fused bodies, the mingling fluids of our mouths, the coordinated cadence of our hearts. I had never felt so full, so devastatingly capable of nurturing the desires of that male, so susceptible to this passionate surrender. His lust exploded in a prolonged merriment which drenched my bowels with his sticky and fertile semen, leaving the air permeated by the smell of sex; he let himself loose upon me, laying his head on my still arching chest from the rapid beats of his heart as it leaped off; I stroked his neck and hair, kissed his forehead and ear, and whispered an LOVE TEASURE that left a huge, apathetic and unusual smile sealing its face. When he left me at home the next morning my body was exhausted, my ass swollen and bleeding, its smell permeated my skin, and an unusual feeling stirred up my being, not only because I had delivered myself a few more times during that night but also for having satisfied his macho appetite.

We started to see each other more often, in fact every day. At least two or three times a day the phone rang showing Roberto's bearded face and tangled hair and his newly awakened expression rubbing his eyes to adjust to morning light as a result of one click on my cellphone camera after an erotic night of passion at his apartment. He became territorial, protective and discreetly possessive all with moderation but that I could sense torturing him in some situations. And whenever I avoided or prevented these situations from occurring, he would give a captious and grateful smile acknowledging my willingness to voluntarily submit myself under his dominion - an unspoken and complicit agreement. His frequent appearances at home also aroused the curiosity of my family.

"Is that deputy still hanging around with those outcasts who kidnapped you?" asked my father, when the maid came to inform us during dinner that Roberto was waiting for me.

He came to pick me up, we're going to a movie at the mall.

<unk> Are you two dating? What interest could a man like that have in some fresh-faced cocksucker?" asked my mother.

<unk> I think we're becoming friends. He is very nice and I am not a baby, I'm 23 years old!

"Friendship with a policeman? I don't know if that helps. These people have an odd temperament, if they do! Be careful". My father added. Always one foot behind when it came to police officers, military men, civil servants and politicians. He put them in the category of those who are more distant than others.

<unk> Roberto is not like that. He's a delegate for an issue which doesn't come up right now. His ambition is to start his own law firm and deal with international trade and company mergers. It would be nice if you gave some force in this direction, using your influence as an entrepreneur. I suggested after praising him.

"It takes much more than willpower to venture into this field", observed my still-critical father.

I'm sure you would change your mind if you met him.

"Well, then let him come in and have lunch or dinner with us sometime", suggested my mother.

"I'll think about it. I need to see if he catches on".

I vaguely commented to Roberto about this conversation that we had with my parents. He didn't say anything, but he got a little more serious and thoughtful that day, which made me regret bringing such matters into our still-creeping relationship.

My family preserves some rites and customs, among them the daily custom of having dinner together as a group, and Sunday lunches when friends and relatives often gather. It was sunny on Sunday mornings and hot for this time of year, which got me out of bed earlier than usual. After breakfast I sat by the pool with the magazines that I had just bought while walking my dog. Distracted from reading I did not see how long it would be before lunch arrived, even frightening myself when Mother approached to warn us that lunch would be served. I went back to my room for a shower, as I was sweating profusely after hours in the blazing sun. The topics during lunch -- an informal barbecue on the side terrace of our house -- were about my father's renovation of his beach home; my older brother's intention to travel to New York with his girlfriend at the end of the month when vacation would lessen the impact of his absence from work; and the intensification of my college assignments, but the most discussed topic was my recent friendship with the deputy who had acted as my rescuer.

"Kadu is making the biggest publicity of this delegate's character and personality". said my brother mockingly.

I just praised his performance. He managed to take down the entire gang, even triggered an operation that trapped the foreign branch in their own country. A guy like this can only be good at what he does".

<unk> There is no doubt, he was very competent but do not forget that his discovery in captivity was a detail which wasn't foreseen and it seems to me that he started giving some sort of special importance to this matter.

I never realized that.

"It moved him so much that he ended up breaking off an engagement!" added my father.

"Who told you that?" I asked in amazement.

"Himself", he replied, looking stealthily at my mother.

"What do you mean? When did the two of you talk?" I inquired, becoming increasingly curious as to where this conversation was going.

Three or four days ago, he looked me up at the company.

I asked, feeling my throat dry and my reasoning increasingly confused.

"To say that he likes you!" said my mother, who was following the conversation as she seasoned the salad.

He said to me, "What is this? Where did you get it?" I was troubled and worried about the outcome.

"Exactly. He made a point of emphasizing every word, straightforward. Subject to personality. Knows what he wants and is not intimidated by the challenge". said my father, visibly impressed with Roberto's attitude.

"And how do you feel about him?" asked my mother. So direct that it was like suddenly removing the ground from under me.

I like him, he's a funny guy, smart, very nice. <unk> I babbled trying to avoid any words that would expose my real feeling

"Do you love him?" my father asked.

Oh, father. I let it slip away in a near whisper as I felt my face catch fire.

<unk> We were caught by surprise! I always thought you had a relationship with that college girl, Sueli. She can't disguise her interest in you or the jealousy she feels for your friends.

<unk> She's very nice. But we are not dating. And she is not in love with me, what an idea! <unk> I corrected it, hoping to stop being the focus of conversation.

<unk> We want your happiness! That's what we care about. Every father dreams of his son getting married with grandchildren and all that stuff, but if you also feel attracted to Roberto as he has confirmed how he feels towards you, he will be welcome and we are waiting for you to be happy". said my dad, in a calm rationality which moved me.

"I love you. I have the best family in the world".

The little one is in love! My brother joked, pulling my hair.

We still formed a circle, embraced and moved that we did not even notice the approach of the maid leading Roberto to the balcony.

"Good morning! Sorry I'm late". said the voice that I recognized immediately, and which made me almost choke with juice still in my mouth.

"Good morning, Deputy!" my parents said in unison, with the synchronicity that wedding anniversaries impose on couples.

"Hi Roberto!" I stammered, after recovering from the fright and turning towards him.

"One of our defects, or qualities is punctuality!" my father asserted. "Sit down and make yourself at home; here everyone serves himself so don't be ceremonious". he corrected in a more gentle and friendly tone.

"Not that this justifies it, but unfortunately I had a setback and needed to go through the superintendent's office this morning". explained Roberto in his firm voice and not at all disturbed by my father's remark.

"The important thing is that you are here, and it makes us happy", added my mother in her loving way of easing tensions.

I stuttered in embarrassment after things had happened so abruptly, and without my having a more active part in setting the stage.

It was a wonderful afternoon. Although I had been rather shy about his presence in such an intimate environment, I was proud of his resolute posture. Watching him with his khaki bermuda and short-sleeved white sports shirt that let me see his biceps moving when he gestured, I thought it even more beautiful. My father always so parsimonious and economical with words seemed most eloquent while talking to Roberto.

Early in the evening we went up to his apartment. He was looking so proud, as if he'd fought a battle and been blessed with victory. When his amber eyes fell on me I could have sworn that he saw me as the trophy he deserved.

"What was it?" I asked, after one of those looks when he had stretched out on the couch watching his team during a soccer game.

"Nothing. I was just admiring you". he replied, with a look of contentment and an outline smile in the corner of his mouth.

"I'm finding these looks very mysterious!" I exclaimed, reaching over the back of his couch and sliding my hand through unbuttoned buttons on his shirt.

<unk> It wasn't that hard to bend the horn! <unk> he joked, holding my hand over his chest hair.

Is that what you came to claim? I whispered, kissing your ear.

"Of course, I'm entitled to a share of the loot", he said triumphantly.

<unk> So I'm like a spoil to you, your plundered profit of that gang?

That's it, now you are mine alone.

I leaned toward him and placed my head on the fold of his neck inhaling a mixture of his scent with that of night's coolness, which entered through the balcony sliding door in gusts that made almost transparent curtains float. I gently kissed him along the lower edge of the jaw feeling his beard thrust into my lips. He smiled. A devilish smile, the kind that makes people's blood run faster. I wanted it. Sitting on top of Roberto, knees spread apart, one from each side of his body, I bent forward balancing hands on his chest. I pressed my hip against his crotch and watched as his eyes opened wide. I could see myself reflected in them. I wanted him so much that I felt empty inside, only he knew how to fill the emptiness. His hands went through the waist of my bermuda shorts and held it down until he was able to grasp my smooth buttocks. I kissed him with passion and gluttony, rolling his hips till I felt his hard cock climbing like a wild horse and settling on my little butt. I let out a slurred groan, the kind that I always used to make when his dick would tear my crotch open both in penetration and withdrawal of this muscular thickened jeba imposing its painful dominating scourge on such tight orifice.

"Will you come live with me? I want to take care of you. I want you 24 hours at my disposal". he whispered so close that I could feel his warm breath brushing against my skin.

"I love you! I'll give all my affection to you, my macho one".