Middle Men

His mama once told him when you smell dead fish, there’s got to be some around. He could smell something bad in the situation, and since he was wracked with nervous guilt about his own betrayal of the Don, he was having trouble remaining cool and calm with his pals.

As usual he was the driver and today he’d been driving since dawn, when they headed south from the Bronx into New Jersey and then down to the Jersey shores. That was their usual modus operandi, so to speak. He drove the two hit men to their targets where they blasted away with their Chicago typewriters, sometimes in dark alleys, sometimes in crowded restaurants, sometimes in broad daylight on busy New York City streets. They killed, he drove. He wasn’t violent in that way, while they didn’t seem to be bothered by the bloody chaos they unleashed for the Don. That’s the way they’d always done it since they became Made Men almost four long years ago, all three of them only eighteen then.

They pulled over in their 1930 Oldsmobile Viking along a desolate stretch of shore, then got out and traipsed down below some dunes. It wasn’t too far to Atlantic City, where opposing gangster families from New York and Chicago were attempting to muscle in on the illegal and lucrative booze market booming there. The corrupt city government was in cahoots with the smugglers dropping off liquor on the shores.

When Ricardo and Tony started to lag a little behind, Giuseppe feared the worst. He turned just in time to see the pair aiming their tommy guns right at him. His heart almost stopped in his chest.

“Sorry, Zeppe. You know what’s up. Omerta. The code of silence. You broke it with those Chicago bums trying to beat us to the booze trade in Atlantic City. You been taking payoffs for information. Don Leonardo ain’t gonna accept no fucking apologies.”

Technically, omerta referred to snitching to the authorities. He thought of pointing that out, but knew that blabbing secrets to a rival gang was just as serious.

He faced the sea, with an endless line of dunes stretching away both north and south. Of course it was deserted, or they wouldn’t have chosen this spot. Many a mob hit had occurred on shores like these. He’d been told they were heading out on this journey for just that—a hit on some Chicago gang bums out on the Jersey Shore. He’d suspected the story was a ruse. Now he knew for sure.

He removed his tweed coat and carefully laid it aside. Next his suspenders came off his shoulders, then his wool trousers were unbuttoned and fell to his feet. He stared out at the calm sea, hardly a breeze rippling the surface. It was late May and warm even with the heavy banks of cloud cover above.

He hesitated briefly before stepping out of his pants, then slowly began to unbutton his cotton shirt. Behind him he heard his pals snickering, the kind of nervous giggling they always did just before a hit. His fingers were shaking, but he was in a kind of daze too, and almost numb; surprisingly calm, in fact, under the circumstances.

Maybe the gray horizon was the reason for that. Everything was dull and flat; the sea, the sky, even the dunes seemed colorless. His shirt came off. Then his undershirt, which he was strangely glad his mama had just washed. He didn’t take off his cap, who knew why.

He stood there in his undershorts, clean too from his mama’s diligent laundering, facing the ocean and away from his pals, his buddies from childhood. He couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t best friends. And they had their tommy guns aimed at him.

That was Ricardo. His voice had risen, the way it did sometimes when he was real excited. Real excited. Giuseppe took a deep breath and shoved down his underwear. He was surprised that his dick was half hard, instead of shriveled up in fear.

He bent over as he pulled the shorts down and off, hopping a little in his bare feet, feeling the soft sand between his toes. It was warmer than he expected. He tossed the shorts on top of his other clothes, glancing at the coat again, the coat with all those fifty dollar bills his mama had so carefully sewn into the liner.

All at once he snapped out of it. He knew what he had to do! He wasn’t a chicken; he wasn’t about to give up without a fight. He was in all this trouble because he was braver and more daring than most of the other mobster goons who did exactly as they were told.

He bent over and placed both hands on his knees, spreading his feet wide apart. He bent farther over. He knew what his two best friends were seeing. His round white butt was smooth and muscular, pretty damn nice if you liked guys’ asses.

The pair howled with laughter. But that was nothing new. What they did next was. Suddenly Giuseppe felt the steel of gun muzzles pressing into his bare ass. He’d been told not to look back, and he wasn’t about to disobey. Yet he knew precisely what those hard objects were pressing into him from behind.

Then the muzzles strayed, slowly gliding over the swell of his buttcheeks toward the crack, then into it. He shuddered, and then did what he knew he had to. He bent farther over and arched his back, with both barrels now running up and down his asscrack.

“You got the idea, Zeppe! But maybe you could squirm around a little. Show us something you think we’ll like,” Ricardo said, his voice even higher.

They both laughed and joked, but Giuseppe knew them well. They’d been working together since they were teens. He knew what they wanted and he was determined to give it up for them if it would save his life!

The two young mob goons were more than buddies. He’d caught them in the act of fooling around three or four different times, but they’d denied anything was going on and pretended they’d just been “horsing around.”

He didn’t have to look back to imagine what the pair looked like. Both tall, they dressed dapper, with suits and fedoras, more enthusiastic than himself about appearances. Tony was the tallest, with a long nose that emphasized his narrow face. His hair was dark auburn and curly and hard to slick down. He had a crooked grin and a big lower lip. Ricardo was different. His face was round and innocent, and he giggled and laughed at just about anything. He kept his own black hair cut so short he didn’t have to worry about combing it.

Giuseppe was the really good-looking one. A fair-haired Italian, he was ruddy-cheeked and blue-eyed and even had a dimple in his chin. The dames were always looking twice at him, even though he never let them get close. Everyone figured he was just waiting for the right one, since he could have his pick. He figured his buddies assumed the same, which is why they never told him about their own secret relationship. They just didn’t think he’d get the same fun out of it.

Of course if it got out, they’d be dead meat. About as dead as he might be soon enough if he didn’t pull a rabbit out of the hat with his little act.

He wriggled more enthusiastically, and when that brought more jeers and laughter, he got even more into it. He reached back and grabbed his own buttcheeks and pulled them wide open. Those tommy gun barrels went crazy up and down his exposed crack.

He wriggled his ass back against those machine guns with alacrity. With no breeze off the sea to ease the warmth he found himself sweaty all over. Those hard steel muzzles slid back and forth and up and down in a nasty glide, a kind of dance of death, he thought morbidly.

He tried to get a grip on his senses. Fighting for his life, he was utterly desperate. For a moment he wondered if it was worth it. Maybe he should just die with some dignity. But he’d never been one to worry about that kind of crap. If he wanted to live, and he sure as hell did, then sacrificing his dignity was well worth it.

Whether they were going through the same kind of soul-searching or not, his two mob buddies didn’t show it, continuing to tease him mercilessly.

He knew what they were doing. They had their dicks out and were jerking each other off. He had to make them do more than that! He arched his back and wriggled, spreading his knees way apart in the sand and letting them see his pink hole, snug and no-doubt warm and inviting for a dick to explore.

He made his move. With his hands already on his round white butt, it was easy enough to slide his fingers down over his own butthole. He settled on the puckered slot and stroked it, then pulled it open. “You can have this. Fuck me up the ass, boys!”

The howls of laughter that followed didn’t fool him. They were always horsing around and laughing like that, then the next minute they could be blowing the hell out of someone with those same tommy guns.

Giuseppe, desperately wagging his naked butt and fingering his own hole, almost broke into hysterical laughter at that. It was a standing joke with the other mob goons in the Family. Ricardo always smelled like fancy hand cream. He told everyone he had dry skin problems. No one would have guessed he used the lotion to grease up his ass for his fellow mobster’s big Italian cock!

Now only one tommy gun muzzle remained on his ass as Ricardo went back to the parked Oldsmobile to get that fancy hand lotion. The remaining barrel slid deep into his crack and settled right where Giuseppe’s fingers were. The steel pressed against the sensitive rim, teasing it with little probes.

He was shaking so bad he almost tumbled to his knees. And his cock was so stiff it ached. He was beyond desperation, wild with hope and totally amazed at his own nasty actions. He had vaguely fantasized about sex with his pals, especially since that one time he’d caught them kissing.

It had been a cold New York winter night. They were in a hotel room, waiting for the signal to head out for a late-night hit. He was half asleep on the single bed. The other two were standing by the window watching the snow fall. After glancing Giuseppe’s way and supposing he was asleep, they slid their coats off. In their shirts and suspenders, they started kissing.

He wasn’t asleep. He watched furtively with one hand over his face to hide the fact. The two had their mouths clamped together, wet lips smacking. Tony’s big tongue came out and licked at Ricardo’s open lips. One of Tony’s hands dropped down and clutched at Ricardo’s round butt. A little on the plump side, Ricardo’s hefty ass stretched those trousers with a kind of voluptuous heftiness. That hand kneaded possessively, then slid into the crack and probed through the woolen slacks.

That was all they did, just kiss and grope. But it set Giuseppe’s imagination on fire. He’d jerked off dozens of times just remembering it.

The tommy gun muzzle pulled away. Slick with lotion, a fat cock replaced it, rubbing against his fingers and shoving between them to get at his hole. He knew right away it was Ricardo’s dick. They’d all seen each other naked many times growing up together. That cock was real fat and had a blunt knob perched on the end that he felt pressing into him right now!

That was Tony egging them both on. He was usually the one to make the first move in any situation. Kind of trigger happy. Not a good thought!

Giuseppe took a deep breath and exhaled, pushing out with his sphincter and praying that was the right thing to do. He’d never been fucked, but he wasn’t exactly a virgin back there. He’d shoved a finger up his ass when jerking off lots of times and really liked it. He’d even shoved two up there.

It was amazing what you could do when your life was on the line. He shoved backward and wriggled his ass at the same time. It worked, especially since his pal was shoving forward at the same time with his lotion-coated cock.

Giuseppe was dizzy with fear and excitement. That huge knob had just popped into him and was busy burrowing deeper. The sensation was incredible, kind of painful but more like a big ache in his gut and a stretching massage against his straining butt rim. He grunted loudly and heaved toward that probing shank.

But there was practically no time to take it in before he was confronted by his other pal suddenly straddling his face, with a second cock rearing out of his unbuttoned fly and raring to get buried in some warm hole. Giuseppe’s mouth!

His pink lips were already wide open as he grunted and gasped, and it was a simple matter for Tony to grab hold of his head and ram home. The tall mobster’s cock was long and thin and hard as hell. It drove in and out of his lips in a near frantic thrust and pump. Giuseppe could do little but accept it, gurgling and snorting for air. Fortunately, that cock in his mouth seemed to open up his ass. He found himself swallowing up more and more of the fat poker shoving into him from behind.

Then the two young goons started kissing. With Giuseppe bent over with his hands on his knees and pinned between them, the pair leaned forward and wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders, attacking each other’s mouths. Their stabbing tongues and nasty slurps only got them both hotter. In moments they were tearing off their coats, their suspenders, their shirts, then their shoes and trousers.

Cocks continued to drill him from both ends, one or the other briefly pulling out as the pair of excited mobsters kicked off their pants and underwear, but driving right back in the moment they had their footing again.

They went right back to kissing too. Giuseppe was sandwiched between them, taking cock from both ends and by this time liking it more than a little. He’d realized of course that his murderous pals had discarded their tommy guns in their lust to fuck him up the ass and down the throat. That was an excellent sign. Now all he had to do was give them the best fuck of their lives and pray they’d want more of it.

He’d gone beyond mere desperation. When the cock up his ass drove right to the balls and he felt that huge knob way up inside him, and the tapered head of Tony’s cock slithered past his tonsils and pulsed in his throat, he experienced a sense of totally abandoned pride. He felt strangely free.

He reached out and grabbed hold of Tony’s slender waist, pressing his face into the rippled muscle of his furry belly. The guy was all lean muscle, never able to sit still, always pacing and gabbing, and his body showed it. Giuseppe snorted in the musky scent of his balls and loved it.

He felt Ricardo’s sturdy thighs slapping against his own naked round ass and loved that too. The notion that his pal’s cock was up his ass and stiff with obvious lust for him was totally exciting. His own cock bobbed and dribbled precum between his thighs as he got reamed from either end.

The pair of goons even got into a kind of rhythm. Nonstop kissing, their naked bodies heaving as they fucked their sandy-haired pal, they began to thrust forward at the same time, both cocks sliding deep, then both cocks withdrawing, then pumping back inside.

Giuseppe floated between them, holding on to Tony’s waist and opening wide for that slithering cock, legs splayed and feet planted in the soft sand, ass open and hole dripping lotion as fat cock pumped in and out with squishy slurps. An hour ago he could never have imagined himself in this position. Now, it was all that mattered. Whether he was going to live or die, he was determined to enjoy that naked, nasty, totally liberating moment.

The steady thrust of impossibly fat cock rubbing his sensitive asslips and banging relentlessly against his throbbing prostate finally proved too much, even in that strange state of suspended time he floated in.

Taking cock deep into his throat, he reared back against the cock buried up his ass and shot his load. Cum sprayed like water from a fire hose in great jets to splatter the sand, even reaching as far as Tony’s furry calves.

Even as he bucked and squirmed in the throes of his own wild orgasm, the cock in his throat pulsed and spewed. A river of cum flooded directly into his gullet. And from behind, Ricardo began to drive into his aching ass with furious glee.

Cum flooded his ass. He was getting loaded from both ends! It was so far beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of, he began to shoot all over again. He didn’t know it was even possible, but just as the last dribbles of spunk had exited his stiff cock, another rush of juice raced up his shaft from his balls and spurted out onto the sand.

They tumbled to the beach in a jumble of sweaty limbs. No surprise the other two were already laughing and giggling as they pulled Giuseppe into their arms and held him between them. They lay like that in a jumble of sweaty limbs for another hour, smoking Pall Malls and watching the seagulls.

Ricardo giggled. “We weren’t going to kill you. Fuck, no. The Don, bless his bloody heart, don’t know we can’t drive so he couldn’t suspect nothin’.”

Tony joined in the laughter. “Now what, Zeppe? Are we heading to Chicago? I figure the Don owes us that sweet Olds anyway for all the hits we done.”

Giuseppe was quiet for a moment. He had his own plans. Get away from the violence with his cash, several thousand sewn in his coat, right there beside them. Obviously now was the time for something like that or at least the opportunity, if his pals would go along.

“No. Let’s just head out. You know I got cash, and I got it with me. No need to go back to the city. What about you boys? Got any money of your own to speak of? ”

Tony snickered. “We got some bills under the backseat. Last night’s payoffs we didn’t turn in yet. Bless the Bloody Don’s heart for his generosity!”

Tony slapped Ricardo on his big plump ass and howled. Then he sobered. “You know I like to cook. And I’m good, ain’t I? Maybe we could go somewhere warm and open a restaurant?”

Ricardo rolled over and grinned in his pal’s face, then kissed his cheek affectionately. “Yeah, that sounds nice. How about it, Zeppe?”