Cigars in the Stable

"Getting caught up in Riddleman's murder was frightening," I blurted out, over coffee.

"Wasn't that some sort of sex crime?" Amanda asked, leaning forward excitedly.

The ohs, and ahs, went around the table and I wished I hadn't said anything, because everyone was looking at me, and expecting more.

Over dessert the talk around the dinner table had turned to murder, and it wasn't surprising as Kirk Glendenning, the famous murder mystery writer, was staying with our hosts, the Luckmans.

The truth was that for a while I had been more than frightened. And in answer to Amanda's question, well I knew there had been a lot of sex just before the murder but as to why it was committed I had an idea that it had more to do with cigars.

"If I hadn't been somebody in this town, and had a good lawyer available right away I am sure the police would have tried hard to pin it on me at the beginning," I said seriously, remembering when I had realised how serious my situation might be and had got scared.

"Why was that?" Kirk asked. "Why was it so frightening."

'Because I had no alibi. Now what does a crime writer do about setting up an alibi that is watertight?" I asked, wanting the conversation to move on.

"We all know you were there that night," Maria said, "Larry and I saw you. You were singing. But why on earth did the police think you might have been involved?"

There was silence in the room, and someone coughed. I think it was me.

"No real reason, I was just there and at first they didn't know who I was. They thought I was a nobody or. . um. And Riddleman was a very rich and powerful man. And they knew that his guests that night were also all rich and well known around here, so they didn't want to have to start questioning them and causing themselves aggravation."

Randall Luckman changed the subject then and I helped him. But later after dinner Kirk Glendenning cornered me and asked me into the Luckmans' study with him.

"Do you mind my asking you, what really happened that night. As far as you know of of course? And just how you were caught up in it?" Kirk wanted to know but asked politely, and I wondered if the creative wheels were turning under the crop of silver streaked curls he sported.

"I was singing that night at the function," I replied, most of the people at the dinner table knew something of what had happened already and could tell him. "And afterwards I did some partying and then fell asleep in the stables behind the house. I woke up to find two policemen looking down at me."

What I didn't say was that I had been naked and hungover, with the cum of the dead man and his companion filling my stomach, when they had found me. I had given a fairly accurate outline of the night's main events to the police in the interview room at the Newcastle police station. But I had never told anyone the more interesting details of the sex I'd had that night.

But for some reason I told a lot more to Kirk Glendenning that night, than I had told anyone previously.

"I was into my second last number when I saw them. Riddleman was a big man, and he was over by one of the French doors that let onto the terrace. He was moving a thick cigar about in his mouth suggestively and I was having trouble keeping my eyes off him," I told him, remembering more about that night than I had for years.

"I've never smoked, but cigars had always fascinated me. Our host was big and powerful with a reputation for rough sex, and useful to know. I also hadn't missed the dark Latin looker standing by the next set of open doors fucking his good Cuban cigar slowly in and out between his lips as his eyes held mine."

Unfortunately those eyes had me getting hard, and my dick was straining against my well fitted black evening pants. I was getting uncomfortable standing there in front of the crowd trying to maintain my composure, and finish my last song for the night. I couldn't even attempt to ease the pressure or cover my growing erection in the position I was in, standing next to the grand piano in front of a crowd of 200 of the best citizens Merewether Heights had to offer.

I have an excellent tenor voice. But I had decided in my mid twenties that I would never make it big as a singer. I knew that decision was due more to my distaste for the constant struggle unknowns have in proving themselves, and the experience of two years spent living in hotels and short term holiday flats with neurotic young sopranos, than to any failings in my own talent.

In short, I liked the comfortable easy life and had finally taken up the opportunity to enter the family business at a senior level. But the desire to sing was still strong, and though it was eight years since I'd given up the professional dream, at the time of Riddleman's murder I was still performing regularly. I sang voluntarily with two choirs, and occasionally I sang at private functions. I still do. And I've always demanded a very sizeable donation to my favourite charity from anyone wanting me to perform just for them, which ensured I wasn't called on to do every wedding in town. But I was still kept busy.

That night's performance had been requested some months before and I had been surprised, as I had never met Riddleman personally and would have expected some shapely female in something low cut to be more to the taste of the older Merewether Heights crowd there. But then again the evening's host, Oscar Riddleman, was a slightly mysterious man, who apparently liked to have anything he took a fancy to. And I have been told that back then I was still quite fanciable.

I hit the high note at the end of my last song of the evening, and closing my eyes managed to hold it long enough to impress the crowd. They clapped me a bit more enthusiastically than politeness required, which gave me a lift that added to the sexual heat I was already feeling.

Riddleman was heavy set and looked to be in his early fifties, more muscle than fat I thought, with a full head of grizzled dark hair and sharp dark eyes. While I was politely taking the applause he sucked on his cigar, and turned it around between his full lips, and moved it from side to side in his mouth as he smiled at me, and looked me up and down. He had stripped me naked with that look, and I wasn't really keen on him but occasionally I liked that sort of powerful domination.

But then my eyes were drawn back over to the Latin. He was the perfect Latin playboy type, lean, tall and dark haired with dark smouldering eyes and a seductive smile. And removing his cigar from his mouth he give me a big smile just then and shook his free hand as if he had burnt his fingers. I smiled back. He was telling me I was hot. And his eyes travelled down my body and stopped at my crotch and the smile got bigger. I knew I was showing, and just smiled back. I knew he'd like what I had down there. .

Phew. I was mesmerized by the cigar play and didn't know which one to look at. Then Riddleman jerked his head, indicating the door beside him, and turned and walked outside. I looked over to the Latin as I left my place beside the piano, and saw he was also slipping outside on to the terrace and I pushed through the crowd to follow him.

Outside the semicircular raised terrace was lit by hundreds of colourful candle filled paper lanterns, and in their gentle moody light I found the Latin leaning on the balustrade at the top of the wide staircase that swept down to the rose garden. He smiled and pulled a big, thick, hand rolled Cuban cigar from his inside picket as his eyes locked on mine. The big cigar was rolled delicately between his fingers and sniffed slowly, before it was gently wrapped in his full lips, where he twisted it about wetting it, and moved it in and out before he lit it. Then he was sucking it to a bright glow before a thin wisp of smoke rose up from the tip, as he removed it from between his lips and exhaled.

"A fine performance," he said, with a big grin.

I smiled back at him, "I aim to please," I said.

"Riddleman likes to be pleased," he replied, and he laughed, but then he was heading down the staircase and I followed him.

Our host was nowhere in sight. The tip of the Latin's cigar danced in and out of my sight as we left the rose lined path and crossed the lawn beyond. Then the cigar tip disappeared and a moment later I reached a gate in the hedge surrounding the garden, and went through it.

"Several witnesses apparently remembered seeing us leave the terrace," I told Kirk. "I was amazed at what people at the party had noticed. And fortunately after I had told my side to the police they had found plenty of them to support the parts that mattered."

Beyond the gate was a short shrub lined path where the smell of gardenias hung heavy in the air. Then I was in a cobbled yard and a high gabled building was before me and the cigar tip was wavering as a door opened, letting out a wash of light. I entered the stable building ahead of the Latin, and inside was my other cigar-loving admirer Riddleman. But not looking like his guests remembered. He was now sitting on a tartan rug that was tossed over a pile of hay bales, and he was leaning back with his pants and shoes off and his legs spread wide, showing me what he had to be proud of.

I had no trouble seeing what he wanted me for as he had a thick, hard cock in one hand while the other still held his cigar. It was a toss up if his dick or his cigar was longest. But his tool was certainly thickest. And I wondered what he had in mind for later, excited by him now, but worried I might have trouble taking what he had on offer.

"About time," he growled in a possessive way, showing perfect teeth in a big lascivious smile.

If I had been getting hard before, I was even harder now knowing I was in for a three-way adventure. I turned to see that the Latin playboy had come up behind me, and he pushed me back around so I was facing Riddleman. Then his hands were running over my chest and belly and down, and he was unzipping me, pushing my pants and briefs down and letting my engorged dick free at last. It showed them both just how interested I was.

"I don't mind a bit of singing, but this is more my kind of entertainment. Aye Luca?" Riddleman growled with his eyes fixed on my tool, which I was sure was a match for his own in length, if not in thickness.

I sighed and moaned in relief at standing free, and then sighed again and reached back to pull Luca's mouth to mine, as his long fingers found my cock and he began to stroke me. But he still had that cigar in his other hand and the smoke was curling up and stinging my eyes occasionally as he ran the hand holding it around my body. Then he had his hand low and I felt something pressing at the slit in my cock head and I looked down to see the wet tapered end of his hand rolled cigar being pressed into the tiny opened slit and rotated. I was writhing and moaning now, trapped inside his arms with my pants around my ankles, dripping and ready to explode.

"Yes. Yes. Give his dick a taste of a real cigar," Riddleman was crooning, leaning forward for a better view, wide eyed and panting, and finally taking my cock in his fist.

Then the cigar was gone and I fell back against Luca, moaning and pulling his face to mine again and kissing him deeply as I shot my load straight at Riddleman, whose tight wet mouth descend on me and cleaned me up.

I stepped out of my pants as Luca pushed me forward to the hay bales next to Riddleman and I knelt on the tartan rug and rested my chest on the rug covered higher bales of hay, presenting my now twitching ass to the two of them.

Strong fingers pulled my cheeks apart and I felt something thin working its way into me easily, sliding in and going deep, and I knew it was Riddleman's cigar. He pulled it back out, almost to the end, and fucked me with it, rotating it inside me and giving me a surprising thrill as the end moved across my prostrate and stretched and pulled my channel. Then he lifted it, stretching my hole, and something else entered me below it and I turned to see both men looking on with lustful fascination, stroking themselves as they worked their cigars in unison in and out of me.

I moaned because I loved what they were doing to me, and then moaned louder, seeing Luca's elegant long cock for the first time. It looked almost cruel with its curved shaft and mushroom cap, and his dark knob was almost like the end of one if his cigars.

I rested my cheek against the tartan covered hay as I looked back at them, and my hand reached under me and started playing with my own tool, and tugging at my balls.

Luca left his cigar inside me, minding his place, as he stepped back and stripped off. I sighed at how good he looked and wanted him to get on and fuck me himself. But when he removed his cigar Riddleman removed his also, and bent to lick my rim and wet my entrance. It hardly needed it after the double cigar fuck I had been getting. But he obviously enjoyed it and when he thought I was wet enough he slipped on a condom and stepped between my legs. I jerked away with a gasp as he began to enter me roughly.

But Luca knelt beside me and alternated stroking his fingers over my butt cheeks, and flicking them stingingly with his fingertips as Riddleman worked his way in, stretching me painfully to begin with as I gasped and panted. But then Luca distracted me more by wrapping his hand around my dick and stroking it, while running his other hand over my back, pushing my shirt up and out of the way as he worked firm fingers over the muscles of my back. Finally he lifted my head and took my mouth in a kiss, stifling my yelps as Riddleman bottomed painfully and roughly inside me.

Luca worked his way under me and was sitting on the hay in front of me and I had his curved tool fucking my throat as Riddleman plowed my channel. My hips moved in rhythm with Riddleman's controlled fucking and Luca's hands strayed and explored. He was pinching my nipples, massaging my back and then took hold of my hair, working my mouth on him as he wanted, till he pumped his cream into me. Riddleman came at about the same time, and soon after his cock slurped out. I felt empty then, and annoyed that I hadn't had Luca's curved sword inside me, but I discovered he reloaded quickly and in a few minutes Luca had moved in behind me and was feeding that long thin cock into me. And while holding a fresh cigar in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other Riddleman sat down beside me and watched, leaning forward for a good view of Luca's cock working it's magic in and out of my ass,.

When Luca was done we all drank champagne and rested, and he and Riddleman sucked on their cigars as I watched and stroked myself back to hardness.

Then Riddleman told me to stand up and pulled me between his spread thighs and sucked my cock head in between his lips like he sucked his cigars in . He worked me until I was as big as I was going to get and I got to fuck the dark and mysterious Luca as Riddleman watched up close and his cigar played in my ass hole.

The Champagne flowed freely all night and so did the cum of the three of us, but I have an idea the other two drank a lot less than I did, I told Kirk. I didn't remember drinking more than three or four glasses but must have drunk a lot more, because at some point I woke up and found myself lying naked and alone on the rug covered hay in the now dimly lit barn. I'd tried to get up and find my clothes and leave, but the stable building spun around and I almost blacked out, so I fell back deciding I was staying there till I'd slept it off

I finally woke up with a throbbing head to find a uniformed policeman shaking me, and a man in a badly fitting suit looking down at me. It had seemed like some kind of joke to start with. Embarrassing, as I was lying there naked in front of these strangers as well as hungover, but still a joke. And I had asked them what the hell they were doing there and could they get out and leave me alone.

Instead they had ordered me up and looked at me like they knew just what I had been up to the previous night.

"So why did you kill him?"the suited guy asked.

I shook my head and tried to sit up.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Your host. I reckon he didn't pay up. Was that why? He wasn't happy with the service," he asked smiling nastily,. "An escort. Isn't that what guys like you are called?" he added as if it was a big joke

That was when I started to get angry, and frightened.

"Turned out Riddleman was found lying naked on his bed in the morning. Dead. With a bullet through his temple. The mysterious Luca had disappeared and they never found out who he really was or where he's gone." I said to Kirk Glendening.

"Ah," said Kirk. "Sounds like you had a lucky escape."

"Yes I did. But only because a lot of people had seen Luca during the evening and one of the caterers had actually seen him and Riddleman return to the house together at around 3am. The security firm had a man there and a car left the car park at 4am and the driver was picked up on the security cameras. Otherwise. . ." I shrugged.

It had been a difficult time.

"So what was it all about?" Kirk had muttered more to himself than me.

"About?" I said," Why, cigars of course. They talked about them while we fucked. Riddleman had factories somewhere producing imitation Cuban cigars. And I am sure that Luca was running them for him. "

He looked at me, "But Riddleman's estate was declared bankrupt wasn't it? I thought they couldn't trace any assets?"

"Yes. But he lived like a king. His house was owned by a Jersey Island registered corporation, and nothing else was in his name either so they had no choice. The house was sold later for twenty million dollars and the money just disappeared into a Jersey bank."

We were silent for a few minutes, then Kirk turned to me, "I believe you have the world's greatest cigar collection," he said nervously, giving me a look I had seen on the faces of a lot of men, a look that told me I was still fanciable.

"Yes. I do. Would you like me to show it to you?" I asked, smiling a smile at him that told him a whole lot more.