0 comments/ 98516 views/ 29 favorites Beware Of Tijuana By: Coxswain Thanks to Partisan Cheryl and I liked living in San Diego. Not only did we have all the wonders of the best city in the country, the climate and weather in San Diego are the best in the world! Neither of us were native San Diegans. We moved there when I got a job with the San Diego Police Department. I paid my dues as a motor officer in chilly Minneapolis and landed a cycle-cop's slot in San Diego. After a day chasing the bad guys, Cheryl and I literally wallowed in the wonderful advantages of the place! Went to the beach so often, I constantly had sand between my toes. Rode the trolley so often we memorized the routes. Ate so much Mexican food, I was becoming bilingual. And Cheryl blossomed into Superwoman. Without telling me, she took a California Cuisine cooking class, and suddenly I came home every night to a dinner that made me wonder if she'd hired Wolfgang Puck as a caterer. And the tanner she got, the slimmer she got, and--how can I put this?--the "more interested" she became, to the point that both of us stopped wearing anything to bed. Didn't want to waste any time undressing. I started buying lube in the big tubes, and she put a rubber cover over the mattress to save it from constant seepings. She often rolled over to me and purred that she loved to lie in the wet spot. "I want to wallow in your jizz until I'm coated in it!" That, of course, led to another round, more leakage, more wet crotches, and a bigger wet spot. One day on one of our exploring trips, we drove to Chula Vista and on down the 5 to the Mexican border. "What the heck, let's visit Tijuana!" Strike one. Wow, what a place. Amazing, really. Tijuana, south of the border, is as big as San Diego is north of it, but Tijuana is like a third-world city. The tourist part is garish and Viva Zapata-looking, but it's surrounded by depressing slums. We drove away from the touristy area--Strike two--into what we supposed was a middle-income area, not a slum exactly, but hardly a rich neighborhood. For all that, we never did see anything in Tijuana that could be taken as a mansion or an expensive neighborhood. Anyway, we stopped on a hill overlooking the city and got out to take some pictures. Strike three. We were out. "Oye, what you doing?" Shit. Right off, my cop-instincts told me this was not a friendly Mexican offering us help. "Taking pictures of the city." "Señor Taquadama don't like gringos taking pictures of his house." Fuck. Not the slightest friendliness anywhere. This guy was dangerous. Sure enough, before I could call to Cheryl to get back in the car, we were jumped by what looked like eight guys who came from behind us. After a pitifully short struggle, during which one of them yanked my wallet out of my pocket, they piled us into our own car, bound and gagged, and drove down the hill, through a gate, into a walled-off area. It was a courtyard with a large house at the far end. They pushed open the big door, an ornate thing in hardwood deeply carved with tropical motifs: palms, orchid blossoms, birds, and beyond was a beautiful antechamber. Pink marble floors. Finely crafted leather chairs. A huge couch upholstered in appliquéd silk. I was agog. I looked over, and so was Cheryl. A man walked down staircase. I blinked. He looked like a movie star. Antonio Banderas, maybe. A big man, broad-shouldered, he didn't look like the popular image of a Mexican thug. Not even as dangerous as an American Mafioso. I couldn't help it--I had to give it to him--the guy was handsome! But when he opened his mouth, it was pure Mexican thug: "I am Arturo Taquadama. They tell me, Gringo, you are taking pictures of my house." He held up my wallet. "And you are a fucking policeman from San Diego? This is not a polite thing to do in my country, culo!" He walked over to Cheryl, reached out, and fondled her breasts. I lurched and struggled against the goons holding me. "Get away from her, you bastard!" "Oh, I'll get something more than 'away' from her." He pulled open her blouse. Cheryl screeched and struggled, but she, too, was held securely by Taquadama's thugs. He brought her beautiful breasts out into the open air, and I heard gasps of appreciation from the Neanderthal gallery. The bastard rubbed them, kneaded them, teasing her nipples. All the while Cheryl struggled and screamed, but he got her--her nipples stiffened up into aroused points, and I knew she was fighting a growing horniness. I knew my Cheryl. I could always turn her on by teasing her firm, luscious titties. He addressed his men. "Strip her!" "Hey, you bastard! I'll kill you!" "Oh, my big, tough, American cop, I think you're the one looking down the barrel of a gun." He turned back to Cheryl as they pulled off her slacks, then her panties. She was naked. Blushing all over. "Me, Gringo, I think I will look down her barrel." He turned to her. "Do you like to suck cock, baby?" With that, he pulled down his zipper and fetched out something I didn't think was possible. What a cock! The shaft was like a waterpipe, and hardening, the damned thing was so heavy, it sagged a good foot away from his body but in a huge arc up to the level of his belly-button! It was inhuman. Like a horse. The big cockhead was a fucking planet, a moon in fixed orbit! I watched stunned--an itchy little thought in the back of my mind was, in a strange, eerie way, glad I got a chance to see it. Biggest fucking cock in the world, probably. And Cheryl is going to suck that. Fuck! I snapped out of it! They're going to make Cheryl suck that! As he lowered his pants, the thing swelled even bigger, if that were possible, and like it vacuumed the air out of the room, I couldn't breathe. Poor Cheryl! Look at that thing! I watched as it jerked and jumped while Taquadama's goons pushed Cheryl down to her knees and her face closer to it. He stepped out of his pants and lurched his hips toward her--and the huge cockhead touched her lips. She made a face, no doubt smelling the maleness of the guy, and I fought against the guys holding me. "You let her go, you motherfuckers! I'll come back here with the whole goddamned US Army!" "Oh, I don't think so, Yanqui." I heard one of the men holding Cheryl hiss to her, "Open up, baby--that's it." Then to the other, "Sí, he's got her now." The poor woman breathed what I figured was the rotten-crotch smell of the man, and Cheryl appeared to weaken (sickened, probably) or at least realizing the hopelessness of her situation. Her tongue darted out to explore him. She tried it again, and a crystal-clear drop of precum appeared at his piss-slit. Unable to see it with her mouth so close, she scooped up the drop with the next touch of her tongue, and I saw her gasp and back off, astonished. Then, incredibly, she opened her mouth and tasted him, completely spreading her jaws. So wide it had to be painful. I felt a lurch in my own crotch as Cheryl took Taquadama's huge cock into her mouth. She let out a moan! Was that a moan of distress--or of pleasure? I bit my lip. For some reason my cock was hard in my pants, and to my discomfort and fury, that magic pleasure-spot just under my cockhead rubbed up against a fold in my underwear, stimulating me dizzy. Cheryl's first taste of Taquadama was unbelievable. She looked like she was going crazy over it. Sucking and slurping, moving all over it. It was too big, impossible for her to get into her mouth, but she licked and slurped over every inch, teasing his foreskin forward and back with her teeth, licking inside it, teasing his piss-slit. My own cock slimed the inside of my underwear. Cheryl was hot. Taquadama lunged his cock harder in her mouth as I struggled against the thugs holding me--but at the same time, as the precum-wet fold in my underwear continued to rub the crown of my cockhead--the uncontrollable rubbing driving me crazy--one side of my mind was desperate to save my wife from the degradation, the other side was aroused, fascinated at how fucking lucky she was to lick up the man's cappuccino from a rod so huge. I was desperate. How could she not want a huge package like that? I could only stare. Taquadama was hung better than any man I'd ever seen. Legs like a bull. Buttocks like light brown footballs. Hard. With that sexy little dimple at the top of each one. "Try harder, baby," he crooned to Cheryl, and I suddenly realized he was trying to deep-throat her! And a thrill shot through me when I realized she was trying, too! With a new effort, fighting her gag reflex, Cheryl managed it! I was in a world of madness! Like a snake's jaws unhinging, Cheryl's mouth spread out to an insane size, and she swallowed it!! I was astounded! It was impossible! She was swallowing a cock as big as my forearm! And for as distended as her mouth looked, Cheryl didn't seem to be in pain. She was enjoying it! Taquadama sank the huge cock all the way down her throat! Jesus, that must stick all the way down to her stomach! "Yes, baby, that's it! Now with affection," he purred, and he pulled the giant organ back out. Like pulling out an elephant's trunk. The smell of sex was so strong I breathed it in from where I struggled in the grip of the goons. Spicy tang, the odor of balls, of sperm--and of pussy! My heart sank. She does like it. "Again, baby." Once more the giant cock sank down Cheryl's throat. She had learned how to do it. "Good, honey, that's good." I was aghast. "Ohhh, enough of this, baby." Taquadama breathed harder as he pulled out the big, brown cock. "I want to get to know you better." My testicles hurt so bad, I shifted from one foot to another. I'd never seen anything so erotic in my life. But I still yelled, "Wait! Please! Don't!" "Don't you worry, cop. Bring her over to the couch, Miguel. I'm getting more of this gringa bitch!" Fuck, he's going to rape her. Really fuck her. And she's not on the pill--we'd been trying to have a baby--and he'll surely get her pregnant. Exactly how I knew that, I didn't know, but I was desperate. I had to do something! I sighed. Since the goons held my arms, my hands were free, so I reached up to pull open the buttons of my shirt then down to unbuckle my belt. I forced myself to speak. "Taquadama, let me--offer you a chance to--experience something--different." I can't believe I'm saying this. "What, you a horny cop? You want this big chorizo, too?" "Just--just leave her alone!" "Hey, cop, maybe this will work for me." He grinned. "Come on, cop, show me how horny you can make me!" In the rather dim--suddenly erotic and sexy--light from the lamps around the room, I let my pants drop. "That's it, Gringo, widen my horizons!" My face hot with shame, I stepped out of my pants and peeled off my shirt. Then, biting my lip, I sank to my knees. "No, no, no, pichi puto, you don't get the prize from the first!" Taquadama gloated down at me. "First you do the fuck-me dance. Dance for me, puto-cop!" Oh god, I'll never live this down! Suddenly some steamy song with a slow beat throbbed through the room--some son of a bitch put on a CD!--and with no other choice, I began to swing and sway a little, like I was in a disco or a nightclub dancing by myself--in just my underwear. Taquadama spoke low. "Okay, puto, strip off the underwear." Damn! Shit! Hell! But helpless to stop the situation--and still keeping to the rhythm of the music--I jerked down my tighty-whities. I heard whoops of laughter and shouts from the assembled hoods. My face blazed hot with shame. But my cock stood up hard and throbbing. Oh, god, it can't get worse than this! It got worse. "Hey, man, with a little dick like that, no wonder, man, your woman wants to suck mine!" Taquadama chuckled. "Man, put that little chiquito away! Put your underwear back on!" More laughter. So humiliated I thought of throwing myself out the window, I looked around the floor for my shorts, but, "Hey, no, man, not your own! García, give him your underwear!" "My underwear? Hey, vamos, Arturo!" "No, is good! Let chiquito cop dance around in a real man's underwear"--he looked over at me--"or maybe we get back to business with his woman." I stood in total humility, betrayed even by my own body. As I burned with shame, my hardon jutted out even harder, thriving on my destruction. A few moments later, the big thug García shucked down his own briefs, threw them at me, then pulled his pants back up. Abashed, wishing I were dead, I stepped into the stranger's white briefs and pulled them up! Oh. My. God! The pouch was cold inside. Wet! My cock is covered with that guy's precum! Something snapped inside. The heat from all the shame and humiliation fused somehow into an arousal the likes of which I'd never felt. Suddenly I was hornier than ever in my life! García's shorts were a little small for their owner, so they clung to my hips enough, and I began to move again. But my moves were tighter, stronger, wrapped in sensuality. The sexy music grew louder, and I cavorted about, my arms gripping my own shoulders as I bent over, then I flung my arms wide as I leaped up. Taquadama leered. "That's it, man, show me a man who would do anything not to give his wife's young pussy to another guy. Dance closer over here, man!" Dizzy, losing focus, almost like I was in a gas chamber, I slithered over to undulate in front of the drug lord. I kissed the backs of my hands and rubbed them down the sides of my face, then down my ribs to my hips. I glanced down at Taquadama's huge cock. Fuck, it was big. Throbbing. The cockhead like a purple, blossoming leather flower. I got a sudden rush of pride: I did that! I made him hard again! And as I danced closer, swinging my crew-cut head up and down, Taquadama grabbed my head and pulled me off-balance, into his crotch! Suddenly my view of the giant dong was not a distant look from across the room; it was a close-up, a microscope shot--I could see the pebbly texture of his glowing glans, the pink skin inside his piss-slit. I was so close, I felt the heat from it. And the smell. It scared me. I'd breathed that before. A locker room. Sweaty men. The smell of balls. But Taquadama's was about 20 times stronger. God! Somehow I knew the testosterone stench was to overcome the resistance of his victims. Cheryl had smelled that and succumbed. I bit my lip. My little cock--Hey, goddamnit, it's not little!--throbbed hard in García's shorts "Enough! The dance is finish!" With Taquadama's hand at the back of my head, I knew my time had come. I couldn't hold back! Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! Heart pounding, a roaring in my ears, my mouth spread open around the giant cock! I breathed desperately through my nose. I was astounded. It fit into my mouth! My jaws were spread wide, painfully wide, but I got it in! How can this be? It hit me: Motherfucker, I must've been hypnotized! His cock isn't the titanic thing I thought it was!! Like the ceiling was falling in on me, I realized I had been...what could I call it--cockstruck! Hallucinating from the moment I first saw his penis. I was ashamed. I had fixated so much on the guy's cock--a big, hefty, fat one, but still only like oh, eight or nine inches--that I experienced a waking fantasy. It sank down my throat. Cheryl knew how to do it--she deep-throated me all the time--but I was gagging, choking, nearly vomiting, and Taquadama pulled out. "Enough of this bullshit! Stand up!" I got up, and his goons turned me to face away from him, ripping off García's underwear--even wetter with layers of my own pre-cum--and I realized what was next. "Hey! No! Not this!!" I was totally vulnerable as Taquadama moved behind me. Mounted me, his giant cock touching my puckered button...Ohmigod, Ohmigod, Ohmigod! The first touch was like a bee-sting, then stronger, more painful, a searing hurt like a bumblebee. Then AGH! GOD! like a baseball bat rammed up my ass! "Ah, yeah, you tight, Gringo!" I didn't want to let them hear me scream, but I swear to god, I couldn't help it. As the boss forced that giant thing up me, he shoved the breath right out of me, and Ohhh, god, it must be 10 feet long! My knees gave out, and I sagged, but he caught me, looping his arms up under my armpits and connecting his hands behind my neck in a Full-Nelson. I was helpless. "Yeah, you good, baby," he murmured in my ear. "This the first time for you, no?" He kissed my ear. I was in agony, wishing I could die, and the bastard kissed my ear! Like a mosquito of kindness in a hell of pain! I was dying! Taquadama's giant cock was rearranging my guts! Only his arms around my shoulders and behind my neck--and the giant pivot of his unbelievable cock--kept me from falling to the floor. God, it hurt! I wished I could at least pass out, but no, I had to live through every fiery moment! I was a limp rag, a piece of meat pinned on his giant skewer, and when he realized I could manage no struggles, he dropped his hands down to hug my chest. Somehow, in a weird, welcome-to-hell way, it was a pleasant surprise, like I was no longer pinned, no longer a prisoner. His arms around my chest were like...friendly--in a fuck-you sort of way. I don't know what came over me, like I was so fucking out of my mind with pain that anything could appear to me as real, but suddenly I felt--safe. Like he wouldn't really kill me. Like I was--in his strong arms--protected--somebody he liked--he would help me through this. I knew, of course, that the man was raping me, fucking me!! But in the madness of pain, I went with the moment, remembering his smell. Male. Mighty balls. And he was driving inside me to get my eggs. But I don't have any eggs! The acid of his volcanic semen will broil me into a sterile, cauterized shell, my balls steamed into shriveled peanuts, nothing left but a bag of meat fit only as his fuck-hole. NO! No, that can't be true!! I knew I had to struggle, but I had no strength. Gradually, slowly I could stand the pain, but I had no energy left. As Taquadama started to hump me, I was a helpless inflatable doll, sagging loose in his arms, my own arms flailing back and forth with his lunges. All I knew what that I was grateful, if for nothing else, that either the pain was fading or I was growing numb to it. And something else: slowly, gradually, almost unnoticeably, I did realize something that made my blood run cold: it was beginning to feel good! No, this can't be true! But I couldn't deny it. Slowly, gently, like the faint odor of gas seeping into a room, the man's titanic cock generated pleasure in me. Soft. Gentle. My tortured asshole slowly phased from the agony of torture to--I gasped. God, it can't be true!--a pleasant sensation, swelling into a real thrill. I groaned loud and long. My rectum has to be the size of a grapefruit! But in the eeriest feeling in my life, the fiery pain of that impossible stretch somehow blended deep in me, spiraling, sparkling into ecstasy! The buttons of Taquadama's shirt rubbed against my back, and even the rough scratches were pleasure! "You coming around, baby? You like this, don't you?" I froze. The words no man can stand to hear. How did he know? But my head bowed. I would admit nothing out loud, but--Oh, god, it can't be true!--it was true. Taquadama's cock up my ass was rapidly becoming a wonderful feeling. "That's better, Gringo, now you move with me." Beware Of Tijuana What? Oh, NO! I suddenly realized that in the growing ecstasy of being fucked, I was actually thrusting my ass back against him! I was so fucking embarrassed, I sputtered, catching my breath. I looked up, across the room at Cheryl. She stared back like she was hypnotized. Pupils dilated. I could see the vein in her neck pulsing. The thug standing behind her fondled her tits, and she didn't struggle. Didn't even seem to notice it. She wasn't looking into my eyes, though. I followed her look and realized she was looking down. At my cock. I looked down, too. Oh, my god in heaven! I had the biggest hardon I had ever seen! Cheryl always purred that I belonged in a stable, and I was sorta proud of my cock--I had a good six inches hard. But what throbbed between my legs was a distended, bloated thing that had to be a result of the madness Taquadama had driven me to! Seven inches? Eight? And so thick it hurt! I knew that pain. Cousin to the pain in my asshole. I knew what it would lead to. It was pleasure! Oh, no! PLEASE GOD, NO! I couldn't cum in front of these men! But it was happening. Like the slowly growing roar of a bowling ball rolling down the lane, an orgasm grew in my testicles, and although I did succeed in kicking my legs and struggling in Taquadama's grasp, I couldn't get loose. To the loud crash of pins exploding in all directions, my whole body caught fire, and I rocketed up through the ceiling, my body fizzing into a rainbow of glorious, stupefying, lighting-bolts of ecstasy! And in case nobody had noticed, I raised hot, white flags of surrender in sputtering shots that arced into the air and splattered onto the floor in submission. I was broken. Made to cum from being fucked in the ass. My hands hadn't touched my cock I was ashamed, and in one corner of my brain, I wept--Taquadama had made a clown of me, tapped my own sexual urges to spotlight what a weak little worm I was and how I couldn't keep my dignity and manhood with his pocket-battleship rammed up my ass. I was undone. I looked up again at Cheryl, and she still stared back like a zombie. Then I saw something I'd missed. Her legs were slightly spread, and I suddenly realized that she was moving--bumped from the humping man behind her. Cheryl was getting fucked up the ass! Up her asshole! Just like Taquadama was drilling me! "Taqua--dama, bastard--lied me--fuckin' Cheryl--anyway--" I could hardly talk, too fucked out, still floating in the afterglow of the monster orgasm he just drove me into. But my session wasn't over. He hadn't reached his climax. I was pissed, though. The motherfucker had lied to me. I wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. It didn't hurt any more--Hell, it was a sensation I didn't want to admit was so rapturous--so I did everything I could think of to get him off and out. I clenched my asshole around his shaft--when he grunted in pleasure I felt a satisfaction. I can manipulate you, too, boy. I wriggled my ass around his cock, giving him new angles of penetration, new angles of stimulation. He groaned at that, too. I decided to talk dirty to him. It seemed the natural thing to do. "That big cock--split me in half--fuck me, you big bastard--come on, cum in me!--pump me full!" Damn, where did all that come from? I didn't think it out, it just came out of me. But it worked. He started humping like a hound dog, and Ohmigod, NO! My ass-clenches, wriggling, and dirty talk had turned me on, too! I was building up to another orgasm! No! Men don't do that! Only bitches do multiple orgasms! As the fire of irresistible pleasure swept over me, I heard Taquadama's voice in my ear, "You my bitch now, Gringo?" "N-no!" But then--Ohmigod, AHHHH--he hit something in me like a stick of dynamite, a turbocharge for the orgasm! BLAM! Like a bomb went off inside my head, I went crazy! Insane! Everything went red, and I didn't know if I was conscious or out cold! Taquadama's voice came through the haze like a foghorn. "You my bitch, Gringo?" "Yeah!--oh, god, yeah!--Anything--anything you want--Just fuck me!--Fuck meeee!--" I surrendered totally. And something worse: I glowed with sexual fires I'd never experienced before. After years of marriage, Cheryl had never taken me to the heights this Mexican felon had skyrocketed me to in his very first fuck! And still worse: I didn't want it to end. All of a sudden I didn't want him to finish--I wanted him to fuck me all night long. When I could see again, I raised my eyes. As my vision focused, I saw what I couldn't believe. The man in back still fucked Cheryl up her ass, but another Tijuana hood had approached her from the front, and his ass humping mightily, I knew Cheryl was getting it in both holes. And when I saw her face, I knew both of us had been broken. Her expression was like an angel in a stained glass window, a beatific face as she was lifted up to heaven. Exhausted from my second orgasm, I stood patiently, waiting for Taquadama to finish. It seemed like he had been fucking me for hours. But I loved it. Even though my climax had passed, the well-lubricated in-out of his huge cock kept me at full stretch, at pain-pleasure, and the friction of the greasy passage kept my asshole--I could think of no other word for it--purring. And he delivered me into the final humiliation. When I heard his impassioned groan and felt a warm swelling inside me, I knew he was cumming, and just that knowledge--the boss is cumming in me--shot me into another shameful climax! I let out a long, low moan, and as Taquadama finished his orgasm, letting go of me and pushing me away, I ejaculated great spurts of white slime as I fell onto the floor at his feet. I splattered semen over myself as I collapsed into an exhausted, fucked-out pile. About then I heard Cheryl's familiar soprano scream, her sign of orgasm, and bred in both holes, I saw streams of jizz running down her legs. When her two fuckers backed away from her, she, too, fell to the floor in a totally-used pile. I looked up. Taquadama cinched up his belt, smiling down at me like Ghenghis Kahn. He had conquered me. That giant cock had beat a confession out of me. I'd heard myself say it. He'd fucked me. Made me like it. And I'd said so. Told him I wanted to be his bitch. I felt like shit. But at the same time, almost like I had finally popped into the hole that perfectly fit me, I realized what I was born for--not to fuck Cheryl, but to be fucked by Taquadama! Incredible. He really made me his bitch. Two of the goons pulled me over to the side of the room, where I sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall, slowly regaining my strength. It wasn't over for Cheryl, though. Taquadama, his cock amazingly up, big, and hard again, walked over to where she lay on the floor. He dropped his pants again, sank to his knees, rolled her over onto her back, and--Oh, god, no!--he spread her legs, lifted them up onto his shoulders, and-- EEEEEEEEEEEE! Cheryl screamed like I did. Taquadama shoved his monster up her already sore pussy. Still slimy from the lube and sperm pumped into her, he slid into her more easily than he had gotten my cherry, and after the pain of the initial stretch, Cheryl settled into purring little whimpers as he slammed in her--ah--ah--ah--ah--ah! And when he got his gun--from the tight clenchings of his buttocks I knew he was cumming in her--Cheryl took his load with another howl of ecstasy, jerking under him like in a fit. Taquadama's hands gripped both her tits--it had to be painful--but the look on her face was pure bliss. He'd done it. He was The Man. Broke us both. My wife and I were Taquadama's whores. I wished it weren't true, but I knew: I could not refuse to do anything that man told me to. That giant cock up my ass made me his slave. And I could see the same dullness in Cheryl's eyes. He had fucked her into his property, too. They let us go. He knew he had broken me. I knew he knew. I expected some orders: "Tell me where the border police will be checking." "Carry these bags of cocaine over the border." Even "fix my parking tickets in San Diego." But nothing. They gave us back our clothes and walked us out to our car. We drove away. No one bothered us all the way to the border. We made it through the border check like zombies. "Anything to declare?" "No, nothing." We drove home without speaking. We already knew more than we could admit, more than we could express. We had nothing to say to each other. We were in a new world. We were different people. Cum-sluts. Life at home was suddenly hell. We talked like robots, almost in monotones. About anything but Mexico. We didn't go out to dinner anymore. I came home, sat down in front of the television with a beer until time for dinner. Cheryl made something fabulous, of course, but it tasted like cardboard. Everything did. I went back to the police station the following Monday. I did my duty. Continued my patrols. Rode my motorcycle. Gave tickets. But like I was a puppet. Not real. Like I was a mole, a plant. Taquadama's spy in the SDPD. Cheryl and I didn't have sex for 10 days. Never gone that long before. And when I finally got her turned on enough and crawled over her to mount, my face burned hot with shame--I couldn't get fully hard! I stroked myself furiously, trying desperately to reach full hardness, but I couldn't--like a teenager out in the Minnesota woods on a winter day, beating the meat in the snowy forest--or trying to--the weather just too cold to get a hardon. Finally, miraculously, I got it hard enough to stick in, and I did--Please god, let it get harder once I'm inside her! And it did. With a great sigh of relief inside, I figured I would be able to make it. But I couldn't. I lunged and thrust, but no orgasm started. I thrashed and humped like a maniac--but nothing! About to lose my erection, in desperation I thought of Taquadama's giant cock up my ass, spreading me out into a agonized rapture, his boiling cum surging up through me-- And I came. Not a good one. Like a quickie jerk-off in the police department men's room, but I made it. Then I heard Cheryl sob. And I went soft. Instantly. "What is it, honey?" "Oh, Kent, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me. I don't deserve you!" "What is it?" "Kent...they were bigger. All of them were bigger!" She sobbed again, then, "And I have to have it in the ass, too!" I pulled out, my cock like a Tootsie Roll on a hot sidewalk. I crawled out of bed and walked out onto the balcony. The night was cool. I knew what she was talking about. Cumming in Cheryl was like walking with one leg. My asshole ached for satisfaction. I looked out over the valley. Perfect night for a ride to Tijuana. I pulled on my clothes and walked out to my own Harley in the garage--couldn't ride the police bike across the border. I cranked it up and rode off. You can't do this! For whatever reason, he let you go! You're free! I got to have it! I can't live without that cock! NO! You're a respected policeman! You haven't done anything disloyal--yet. Turn around, go home! You and Cheryl can fix it somehow! Give yourself a chance! I fought with myself all the way down the 5 Freeway, almost to the border station. At the last second, just before entering the gates, I looped around in a U-turn, jouncing down into the grassy median and up the other side, roaring back onto the northbound freeway. But I'd been seen. As I rode up behind a black car, before I could pull out to pass it, a big, black limo with blacked-out windows pulled up beside me. In the mirror I saw another black car behind me. I was boxed in. The cars slowed down, forcing me to the side of the road, and finally we stopped. The window of the limo slid down. Taquadama's men! The two who fucked Cheryl! Before I could react, before I knew what to do, one of them lifted up small box--like a box of Grape-Nuts or something--and he threw its contents over me, a fine, white powder! It went all over me! Over my face, in my eyes, in my mouth. It got in my nose, and I sneezed. It covered my clothes and my arms. Then the black cars pulled away. I was alone again. What is this stuff? And it hit me: Taquadama's powdered cum! Yes, it has to be that! Dried Taquadama sperm ground into a fine powder! It tasted sweet--vaguely sweet with a dusty, bitter taste. Like sperm. Of course! It's an aphrodisiac! And sure enough, it felt hot on my skin. Burning. Turning me on! My cock pounded between my legs, my asshole flexing and burning. Oh, fuck, I've got it all over me! No way to clean it off! Oh, hell! I'm a goner! Breathing harder, I turned the motorcycle around at the next intersection and headed back to Mexico. Just past the Mexican border, I spotted the black limo parked alongside the road. Taquadama's men sat on its fenders. When they saw me, they laughed and pointed. My face burned hot with shame, but there was nothing I could do. I was under the control of the aphrodisiac! I couldn't turn back, I was helpless! I rode to Taquadama's house. The gate guards let me through. I banged on the door, and the Man himself opened it. "You back, gringo-bitch? What you want?" It was the hardest thing I ever did. My brain searched desperately for words that would soften the shame, but he had me trapped. Covered with a sex-potion made from his very sperm, I bowed my head before him and muttered, "Can't--can't live without it--gotta--have--your cock." I looked up at him. "Up my ass." I bowed my head again. "Please!" "Hey, man, you jes' gotta say the word, man. Come on in, bitch." My face hot with humiliation, I walked into the spider's lair. "Strip yourself down, bitch, don' make me wait." Blushing with chagrin but breathing harder, I pulled off my clothes. "Now I want you to take care of a few of my men." "What?? No!" The curtain swung back to reveal about eight of Taquadama's goons--probably the ones who kidnapped us--and they were naked. And hard. Big cocks. Bigger than mine. I gasped in fright--had to admit it. One behind me--I thought it was Taquadama--grabbed my elbows and pulled them back, roughly pressing his big fucker against my ass, forking it between my cheeks. Suddenly off balance, my body back against his, I was helpless as the others rushed me! My back pressed against his chest, against his thick, scratchy body hair, my head spiraled into a combination of fear, lust--and more fear. With his legs against mine, Taquadama held me powerless as the other naked men reached out for me, grasping my embarrassingly stiff cock, groping my balls, tweaking my nipples, and--Oh, fuck!--one of the big, ugly fuckers kissed me! While the kisser turned me into a torch, Taquadama reached between my butt cheeks, located my hole, squatted a little to take aim, and thrust his cock into my love-tunnel. With that, I returned the kiss, sword-fighting with the man's tongue in my mouth, and panting through my nose, high on the spicy adrenaline rush of fear and lust, I let myself go. I realized the man fucking me from behind was not Taquadama. He had a cock like a stallion's prong, but Taquadama's was like a fucking fireplug. But I was so on fire with lust, the guy's cock was plenty big enough, and I was dying to be fucked. When the man in front broke the kiss and backed away, I recognized him--one of the men who double-fucked Cheryl, one of those who threw the aphrodisiac on me! He gave me a grim smile as he reached under my balls, back to where his buddy was already in me to the hilt. I looked down at his throbbing cock. I was getting a little dizzy. Cheryl was right! They are all bigger! Finding my gaping asshole, the man fingered it, then thrust his finger in beside the lunging cock of his comrade! My hole stretched painfully--wonderfully--around his finger as I stood there, helpless, covered with their boss's powdered sperm, their fuck-slave, staring back with puppy-dog eyes. The rush of fear was gone, replace with an ultra-awareness of the big cock up my ass and the searing pleasure of the outrageous invasion of the finger. "You want we fix you up like your wife, Bro?" Huh? The big, brown bastard in front of me dropped to a squat, reached out and hooked each big arm around my knees, and in a sudden movement, he stood up, yanking me off my feet! He lifted me high enough that my naked crotch was above both their hard cocks, and when he released my knees, to keep from falling I naturally wrapped my legs around him. And he had me right where they wanted me. The guy in back reinserted his big cock in me, and without so much as a "May I fuck you, too, please," the guy in front shocked me with the feel of another diamond-hard sex-drill forcing its way into me beside the first one! I lost all sense of balance, any logical thinking, and my bones turned to water--except my legs. They clamped around the guy's waist, keeping me suspended over the maddening, glorious pain of the double-stretch, but the rest of me was a limp rag of male flesh. I groaned. My love-hole had to be six inches across! But I couldn't be mad. I couldn't even suffer from the pain. It was all too good! They humped at me, finally managing a sort of cooperative rhythm, and all the while I tried to make things easier, more pleasurable for them. But my poor ass-ring, maxed out to the absolute fucking limit of human flesh, could not manage the slightest little clench against their thrusting rods. All I could do was ride along as their grateful saddle. When one of them groaned, the other one took his cue and went into his own orgasm. I, too, was swept into Taquadama's Curse--I cummed from being fucked. With two mighty swords inside me, I was crammed so full I had not space for even a tiny fart. My orgasm was terrible. Overwhelming! I floated in mid-air between those two master-fuckers, not knowing if I was alive or dead, just that I existed only to feel two big males creaming my insides! I didn't know how much jizz I shot out. Could've been a spoonful, could've been a gallon. All I knew was that I was helpless, intoxicated with Taquadama's powdered sperm all over me, drunk on its supernatural power. The only thing I understood was lust and sexual pleasure. Never had such a roaring craving in my whole life. When my two big heroes pumped my guts full with a double-helping of Tijuana Mule, I got a powerful, terrible feeling of completion! Life was good. I deserved to live. When they pulled out, and I relaxed my legs from around my front-lover, I fell to the floor, a stream of Hispanic DNA pouring out of my ass. Slowly I crawled back to my feet. "C'mon! Another two!" One of the crowd lay back on the couch, and I hurried over to him. I lowered myself back onto him, impaling myself on his upjutting dong. "You fuckers--got me liquored up--fucked up--Taquadama's sex potion--might's well fuck you all!--" Once Fucker #1 hilted in me, I lay back on him, lifted my legs and rolled them back for Fucker #2. I gritted my teeth with the pain of his rough entry on top of Cock #1. God, I loved the pain! It was like ecstasy with salsa on top! I went through the same story again: two big, sweating men double-gouging me to Nirvana. Huge gobs of jizz pumped up my ass, my own balls firing a grateful salute--and all without touching myself. In fact I wondered if I could ever cum again without two big cocks up my ass. I did his whole crew. Two at a time. And I know some of those fuckers came back for second helpings. I don't know how long I was there. Hours. Beware Of Tijuana Not long after I'd begun--what, two hours?--there was a knock at the door. It was Cheryl. She didn't say a word. Neither did they. As I lay on the couch in my eleventy-leventh double-fuck, she looked at me, peeled off her T-shirt (no bra) and her shorts (no panties). Without a word, she took on two of the men who had been waiting for another go at me. We spent the whole night there. I didn't blow any of them, but I got so much sperm pumped into me, I swear I could taste cum in the back of my throat. At sunrise, Taquadama himself wandered into the room in a bathrobe drinking a cup of coffee. "You two a good pair of bitches, no cabe duda." Still panting from my last orgasm, "Not--my fault--your sex potion--powdered sperm all over me--what else--could I do?--" He smiled and sat down. "How did you know it was my sperm?" "What else--make me so fuck-drunk?--" "Gringo, you are a natural whore, ¿no es asi? Deal with it, bitch." He leaned down to me, lowering his voice. "You wanted to be my whore so bad, your mind grabbed any handle, man." He smiled. "That stuff they threw on you? Vanilla cake mix, man. They threw flour and sugar over you." Huh? "You are a cum-slut, man. Face it. You wanted to get fucked so bad, your head let you believe you'd been drugged." He chuckled. "You fucked all my men with only a mouthful of cake mix!" And so collapsed the last shred of my self-respect. I looked over at Cheryl, wriggling under her two lovers, and I realized we'd hit bottom. They let us go, of course. Taquadama told me to tell him of border raids I might hear about but especially to "happen by" the border crossing when his shipments came over. I did. I was his bitch. On those days when I "happened by" the border crossing, I waited until I spotted the red Chevy panel truck, the green Toyota pickup, or whatever in the distance. Then I slapped the chief inspector on the shoulder. "Hey, let me buy you a cup of coffee. I want to ask you about blah-blah..." He was the guy who always found the stuff, and I kept him diverted until the shipment had passed through. Cheryl and I had other duties. One of the bennies of working for the Tijuana gang was freebie fucks of a San Diego policeman and his wife at their home. I began to buy tequila by the case and sex-lube by the truckload. I got double-plugged at least four times a week, and Cheryl got it even more. Life became sorta normal. She cooked the California Cuisine meals. We went to the movies. Went to the beach. Rode the trolley. But we never fucked again. Couldn't please each other. I couldn't fill both her holes, and she couldn't fill mine. We were helpless. Two stretched-out, double-craving, horny whores who lived mainly in anxious waiting for our next horny visitors. Then one morning it happened. "Good morning! Our KFMB News Flash this morning is a report of a massive gang assassination in Tijuana! Our reporter Rick García has the story!" "Hi, Bill, it's true. Mexican authorities in Tijuana report that nearly the whole Taquadama Gang has been wiped out in an overnight slaughter." Cheryl and I raced to the television! "According to sources, the massive hit was in revenge by the Sinaloa Gang, who have been trying to cut into Tijuana for many months. The bodies of Arturo Taquadama and four of his chieftains were identified among the dead..." I looked at Cheryl. Her face was white. I figured mine was, too. "What are we going to do??" Her voice was a desperate hiss. It's been weeks now, and we're going insane. PLEASE HELP US! If you've got a big cock, and you have a buddy with a big cock, we'll come to you! Anywhere in California! CALL (619) 555-6969.