We were happy the two of us. The pressure was off. The drinks at Pedro’s cool and well appreciated, kinda made our day when we took the time to imbibe.“Hey, amigo,” said Jose, the barkeep of record for the moment. “Someone was in here looking for you, asking around about you today.”“Who was it?” I said.“Didn’t leave a name. White guy,” said Jose. “Maybe fifty.” I nodded. I had a hinky feeling, but I doubted it was any of them. Probably just somebody I knew from the job. If they knew I hung out at Pedro’s they’d be back.“You don’t think...” said Rozelle, who was sitting right beside me.“No, but who knows,” I said. I refused to worry about it anymore. The old days, the old ways, the old crowd were all dead to me.Juan Castillo had been doing the same thing for a thousand years, and he was only forty-six years old, helluva thing. He’d just hung up the phone and passed along the information that his benefactor in Phoenix had requested.He gazed over in the direction of his wife who’d been. The friction was making her cleavage feel like it was sunburned, but his cock continued to plunge in and out of the space rapidly. Hold on, he paused and tilted his head down towards her chest, releasing his grip on her hands slightly. His spit landed right on target, wet with the tart smell of champagne. He spit twice more on her mounds and just ahead of the swollen tip of his cock, immediately resuming his pumping as his hands resumed their control of hers. Now the sensation was moist as well as hot, she could feel his member on the skin of her chest. She could sense the ridge of his head plop outside of her boobs, just under her chin, and spread her flesh as it was pulled back between. She moved her eyes from his face, contorted in a rabid grimace, to her own breasts being squeezed into a tight place for him to fuck. Oh god yeah, yeah, YEAH, FUCK! he began to yell as she felt him rise off of her slightly and press forward. She could feel his pubic hair tickle the bottom of her.
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