"Well, look who we have here."
Clint Folsom knew without even looking up that Inspector Sigmund Frist had recognized him.
"Hello, Sig," he answered, gesturing for his old acquaintance to take a seat in one of the velvet-upholstered barrel chairs in the Alexander Lounge. It was after dinner on the MS River God. The ship was still tied to the dock at Rudesheim, preparing for the run through the most scenic, castle-crowned section of the Rhine late the next morning and into the afternoon.
Folsom had returned from the afternoon romp in the vineyard a little bowlegged but still horny. He had been ridden doubly and well, but he was in the mood to fuck something himself now. The cute little waiter, Tiho, was the first to cross Folsom's path when he returned to the ship, and he didn't seem to mind in the least when Folsom drew him into his cabin and began to kiss him passionately.
Tiho himself made the first serious move when he opened his shirt and bared his breast and offered Folsom two pert little nipples with silver rings through them. Folsom ravaged them with his lips and teeth as he hunched over the waiter who had been backed up to the table between the benches. Tiho was making little yipping sounds and murmuring in some sort of East European language. Folsom certainly hoped the young man was voicing his pleasure, but he didn't much care. He wanted to get sucked and then to fuck something.
Folsom stripped Tiho's pants off and then his own, sat the waiter up on the table, reversed him, and forced him down on his back, his head at the end of the table facing Folsom. Then he braced his thighs against the table edge, took Tiho's head between his hands, and fucked down into the waiter's mouth until his cock was throbbing, full, and dripping.
Folsom then turned, unclipped one of the raised beds at the side and brought it down over the bench. He gathered Tiho up in his arms and turned him and put him down on the bed, sideways on his butt, spreading his legs wide. Tiho watched him in awe as Folsom struggled to roll a condom on his horse-hung cock and then pushed his legs out as wide as he could and arched his back as Folsom thrust inside his puckered hole.
Tiho screamed in surprise at the invasion, but his hole was slack and well used and he immediately mustered his English capability to let Folsom know that his efforts were appreciated. Folsom rode Tiho hard and long, trying to dispel all of the frustrations of his loss of his lover and his pursuit of Meister across Europe. And Tiho rode with him, expertly meeting his thrusts with counterthrusts of his own, well versed in the type of servicing required of the crew on such a voyage as this.
Spent and exhausted after a prodigious release of semen in an orgasmic death, Folsom turned Tiho in the bed when he had finished him and stretched out beside him. The American hugged the East European morsel to his breast, as the well-fucked and even-tempered lad hummed lullabies to the troubled passenger. When Folsom's eyes closed and his breathing became regular, Tiho unentangled himself and tiptoed out of the cabin. He had enjoyed this fuck. It wasn't like what that bull of a German did to him. That one made him want to kill.
Folsom had slept in his cabin until dinner, moving then straight to the lounge for drinks. He would have offered to buy the German policeman a drink, but Frist was already hefting an industrial-sized scotch and water. "I haven't seen you before on the ship," Folsom said, trying to sound as casual as possible.
