Pumpkin Patch Snatch

As both Jake and I watched, Kyle gave a low, guttural laugh, and suddenly stood, slapped Duardo's dick with this fingers, pulled away from him, and started to stride off. Duardo was too quick for him, though. He launched his large, supple, powerful body off the wall, lunged at Kyle, and caught him in his arms. He pulled Kyle into his body, turned him to the wall, and slammed his back against that. With one hand, he stripped down Kyle's shorts and briefs while holding the young man against the wall with the other.

Kyle was laughing—just like this was what he wanted. So, I didn't move to do anything. Jake was too engrossed in the entertainment to do anything but stroke his cock. It wasn't long before Duardo's cock was inside Kyle's channel, Kyle's knees were hooked on Duardo's hips, and the big, black Cuban was pushing Kyle's back up and down the wall with the strength of his dick.

Just when I thought Kyle was lost to the big black, though, I saw the young man's hands go to the Cuban's neck and his fingers apply pressure to strategic points of Duardo's throat, causing the Cuban's eyes to roll up into his head and his body to slowly sink to the ground.

With a laugh, Kyle pulled up his shorts and walked slowly around the side of the building toward the front. I looked over to where Jake had been hiding, but he was gone.

The big black isn't going to like this, I thought. There wasn't a bit of humor in the man. He was at least twice as big as Kyle and built like a brick wall. I feared that he'd beat the young man senseless the next time they met.

I couldn't have been more wrong about that, though.

When I woke in the middle of the night on Saturday, I found the dormitory nearly empty. Not only hadn't Raul come back from the farm house that day, but now Duardo was missing too. So was Rufe. But that wasn't a big surprise. Since he concentrated on the white boy local workers, he often was roaming away from the farm at night. Jake was on his back on this bed, mouth open, snoring up a storm. I rose from my bed and went to the door of the dormitory. Off across the field, beyond the pumpkin patch, I saw the glimmer of a light. There also, though, was an apparition in white.

One of Jake's ghosts, I wondered. It was only a week from Halloween, well into the time period that Jake had told the men that the murdered plantation family rose from their graves and roamed the property, looking for the murderers who had fled the plantation and never been caught.

Then I saw another light, moving from a closer location toward an intersection with the ghostly visage. I waited for a few minutes after both lights faded into the trees beyond the pumpkin patch, and then I moved toward where they intersected.

Kyle, naked, was spread-eagled, his wrists tied to the branch crotches of two trees that stretched his body out. Duardo, also naked, was crouched, facing Kyle, his hands fisting Kyle's ankles and raising and spreading wide Kyle's legs. Duardo already had his dick inside Kyle and was pumping him.

Kyle's head was flopped back, his face facing the full moon. He was crying out, "Yes, yes, Duardo. Harder. Deeper."

At his feet was the white sheeting he'd covered himself with to pad out to the grove to meet Duardo. He obviously was getting the punishment he wanted from Duardo, so I turned and walked away.

What a crazy kid, I thought. What a tease. I couldn't wait for my next chance at him.

But the next morning, in spite of Sunday supposedly being the migrant workers' rest day, I was told that I was needed to sell pumpkins and other harvested items at the produce store because Kyle apparently had gone back to college early.

That didn't worry me until I saw the police cruiser drive up to the front the farmhouse. Then it worried the hell out of me. Had Kyle suffered the same fate as Miguel had? And where was Raul?

It was Raul. The police had come because of Raul. His body had been found in the woods at the edge of the farm.

Once again, Frank Lunsford was being placed in a police cruiser and driven away.

* * * *

I fretted through the week about Kyle. I asked Jake about him—I could not have gone to Frank Lunsford himself, who had been returned by police car some four hours after having been taken away on Sunday. Jake insisted the Kyle was back at his college and would appear again on the coming Friday evening. The next Saturday was Halloween. That afternoon would be a major sales day at the produce building. Kyle would surely be returning at the weekend to help with that.

On Wednesday a new worker appeared. His name was Hosea, and, like Raul and Miguel, he was young, good-looking, small of stature, and accommodating, ready to lie down and open his legs on request. Duardo fucked him, standing over the jackknifed figure of the Mexican and pile driving down into him, on Wednesday afternoon between two rows of tomato plants while the rest of us split our time between picking tomatoes and watching the action. Jake made clear that he had been hired to keep the tops among us happy and productive in the waning days of the harvest. Another hand wouldn't have been hired otherwise. As an aside Jake had said Frank Lunsford wanted another like Raul and Miguel here as well for something planned on Halloween. I almost thought of warning Hosea of that, but I didn't. Jake said my turn with the little piece would be Thursday.

Indeed, on Thursday afternoon, it was so hot out that we went back to the dormitory at the height of the day for a siesta—and Hosea rode my dick cowboy style while I lay on my back and the others watched. He seemed to be well versed in the extra services he rendered. I still wondered if anyone told him what had been the fate of some of those who had preceded him. I didn't see it as my duty to tell him, however.

On Friday afternoon, my concerns for Kyle were relieved. I was in the field of raspberry bushes when I looked up and there he was, smiling at me—and looking oh so sexy.

"Miss me?" he asked.

"I was worried about you," I answered. "You heard about Raul?"

"Sure, I heard about Raul. That's so touching that you worried about me. Jake said you asked for me every half hour or so."

"Yes, I did," I answered. "You take too many chances, I think."

"Like this? Here, now. With you?" he asked as he stripped off his shorts, briefs, and T.

"Oh, god," I whispered, feeling myself go hard at the beauty of his body.

"Lay on your back," he commanded.

I did so, and he pulled my shorts off my legs. I wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Oh, god; oh, god," I whimpered with a groan, as he took my shaft in his mouth, gripped my balls in his hand, and tugged on them while he sucked.

"I hear the new punch rode you cowboy style yesterday," he said when he had come up for air. And when I could do no more than groan at the way he was rolling my balls in his hand, he continued. "I wonder if you think he can do that better than I can."

He straddled my hips, facing me, and moved his channel down my shaft. I was breathing heavily and moaning as he raised and lowered himself on the shaft. "You do it," he whispered, and as he lowered his face to mine for a kiss, I gripped his waist on both sides and raised and lowered him on the hard, throbbing dick.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," I murmured as he turned around on the dick, gripped the knees of my bent and raised legs and pumped himself vigorously on the shaft until I shot off my load—and then relaxed, prone, with a sigh.

Turning on the still-hard cock, he lowered his torso on mine, his cheek against a breast, and played with one of my nipples with his hand. "Was I as good as the new guy?" He asked. "Frank bought him from a male whore house. He apparently is meant for Frank's Halloween ritual."

Ritual? I asked myself. Too shocked by the possibilities to say anything out loud—especially as Kyle was talking about it so casually.

"Why do you ask? Are you jealous?" I asked.

"I don't like the competition, no. First Miguel and Raul this year—and now this professional male whore."

Shock again. A new possibility was entering my mind. What could Kyle's jealousy have led him to do? Was he involved in the deaths of Miguel and Raul? And what was this ritual he spoke of?

He was just a little bit crazy. I couldn't discount any erratic behavior on his part.

* * * *

I found out about the ritual the next night, Saturday, Halloween night.

It started after we were all supposed to have retired for the night. My bed was located so that, when I was turned toward the entry door, open because of the unseasonable heat, I could see out over the field—the pumpkin patch. I was only half awake when the dancing of the flames caught my attention. A bonfire was blazing just beyond the pumpkin patch.

I sat up in my bed. The new man, Hosea, who had been sleeping in Miguel's bed when he was sleeping in the dormitory at all, was gone. So were Duardo and Jake. Rufe wasn't there either. I got out of bed and padded over to the door.

I could see figures—covered in white—supposedly the ghosts of Jake's stories?—moving around the bonfire.

Of course I went to investigate. As I crept through the pumpkin patch, crawling so that I would not be detected, I soon discerned that there were four figures moving around the bonfire in a slow dance. They were covered in white cloaks—their heads hooded as well. Next to the fire stocks had been set up—a platform with a low wall of wood at one end, with a hole for the head and smaller ones set off to the side for the wrists. The stocks were occupied—by the new worker, Hosea. Another one of the young migrant workers, the thin young redhead day worker named Shawn was lying on his side, naked, wrists and ankles bound just inside the circle of fire. His mouth was encumbered by a ball gag.

As I watched, one of the figures tossed off his cloak. The wolf-like Frank Lunsford was accounted for. He loped over to the edge of the circle, pulled Shawn up on his hands and knees, crouched over the young man's hips, mounted him, and began fucking him like a dog. This must have been some sort of signal, because now the cloak came off Duardo, who saddled up behind the pilloried Hosea, grabbed the young man's hips with his hands, and thrust inside him. A third figure, not removing the cloak, moved to in front of Hosea, parted his robe to reveal a plump, hard cock, and presented it to Hosea for servicing with his mouth. Hosea complied, willingly, it seemed, although something about his expression gave me the impression he had been drugged. Looking over at Shawn, I saw that he had the same drugged expression on his face.

Chills ran down my spine. This were two willing bottoms. What might be in store for them that had meant that they should be drugged to take it?

The fourth figure was crouching at the edge of the circle of light, watching the ritualistic fucking. But not for long. Duardo pulled out Hosea's ass, only to be supplanted by the still-cloaked figure whose cock Hosea had been sucking. Duardo walked over to the fourth figure and pulled Kyle's cloak off him. Duardo pulled a naked Kyle up off the ground and slid the young man's belly up his black, powerfully built torso until he could position the bulb of his cock at Kyle's asshole. He then lowered Kyle on the shaft, while Kyle wrapped his legs around Duardo's waist and his arms around Duardo's neck. The big Cuban proceeded to walk around the circle of light, bouncing Kyle up and down on his cock. Kyle was groaning, but not objecting.

When Duardo was finished with Kyle, he let the young man slide down his legs and into a heap on the ground. By then Frank had moved to behind Hosea and was fucking him, and Duardo went over and took a crack as the trembling and moaning Shawn.

Sometime while I was watching these two with their changing conquests Kyle had picked himself up and left the circle. I probably wouldn't have notice that anything was wrong if I hadn't seen the fourth, still-cloaked figure walking deliberated out of the circle as well—with a long-bladed knife in his hand.

I looked at both Frank Lunsford and Duardo and saw that they didn't seem to notice that two of their ranks had left.

The sight of the knife sent off fireworks in my brain and a chill up my spine. I had asked around about the deaths of Miguel and Raul. Both men had been fucked, but what had killed them was multiple slashes of a long-bladed knife.

Instinctively, I frog-marched my way to the edge of the pumpkin patch and went after the cloaked figure with the knife.

* * * *

"How did you know it was Jake who had murdered those young men, Javier?" Kyle asked. We were laying, limbs entwined, fresh from sex, on Kyle's bed in the farmhouse.

"I didn't," I answered. "Not until I saw him with that knife—and even then I couldn't be sure it was Jake. He was still covered with the cloak. I should have considered in from that ghost story he told his. In hindsight, it was clear that he saw himself as responsible to fulfill the legend of who he believed was his family—to off a dozen young men to appease the ghosts of his past. I'll admit that I thought at one time that it was Rufe. I'd been suspicious of him all along, knowing what he felt about Hispanic workers coming in the States to work. But, really, I mostly thought that the murderer was your lover, Frank."

"Frank? Frank's not my lover. He's my uncle. We both like sex—but not with each other. I just work for him on and off to help with my college expenses. What made you think he killed those men?"

"You mean other than how kinky he is and how much he looks like a wolf?"

"Yes, besides that," Kyle answered, with a low laugh, obviously conceding both points.

"He hired those men—and said it was natural that they had disappeared; that they had just drifted on—and the police kept coming to pick him up for questioning."

Kyle laughed again. "He left the hiring to Jake, and it was Jake who was saying they probably just drifted on."

I let that sink in. I, of course, hadn't heard Frank Lunsford say any of that himself. I'd relied on Jake's word. Mistake. I had reached Jake on Halloween night before Jake had reached Kyle. When Kyle saw me struggling with Jake and that Jake had a nasty knife, he came back to help me. But he wasn't much help. He'd been drugged. Jake was drugged up too, or he surely wouldn't have been so bold as to try to make Kyle his next victim and to snatch him from the pumpkin patch right under the noses of Lunsford and Duardo. I had wanted Kyle to put Jake to sleep using the throat pressure points as he done with Duardo, but he couldn't manage it. I had to club the man senseless with a heavy branch.

I still hadn't accounted fully for my belief Lunsford was the murderer. I'd even considered Duardo and Rufe and, for a few brief moments, Kyle himself. "But the police cars showing up?" I asked.

"Frank isn't just a farmer—and a man willing to hire men who fucked men because he fucks men himself—he's also the county coroner. He reported those men missing promptly. And when their bodies were found, the police came and got him to examine the bodies. I don't think he ever was under suspicion as the murderer, although the police around here certainly don't like his willingness to let our kind work here."

"Oh." I chomped on that a bit as Kyle's hand moved back to my dick and he started to bring it to life once again. "So, Frank's not your lover. He doesn't have any sexual hold over you?"

"You should know by now that I fuck whoever I want, Javier. And right now I want you to fuck me again."

I complied—but on my terms. If the little piece was going to sleep around and tease his fuck partners, when he was with me I was going to be in charge as strongly as I'd seen Duardo handle him once he'd manhandled him. We struggled a bit on the bed, with him trying to maintain control, but when I'd gotten his wrists tied off on the rungs of the brass headboard with the leather ties Frank had used on Shawn and had him on his belly, and had mounted and skewered him and begun to pump, he settled down with a moan and a laugh and gave me a first-class ride.

Yes he was just a little bit crazy. But a little bit crazy turned me on.