The Courier | THE AMERICANS Vol. 2

When my father found evidence that I’m gay, he was not pleased. Traditional Spanish men can be macho and chauvinistic. My father was as traditional as possible. While not a member of the Mob himself, we are part of a mafia family. My Uncle Luise is deeply involved. Even though my father has always been careful to stay arms length from the family connections, he turned me over to my uncle. I needed to be taught how to “be a man.” I guess in his mind, it was a choice between the Mob and the military and he trusted his brother more than the government.

Unknown to my father, my uncle had different plans for me. More worldly than my father, he knew that simply putting a gun in my hand wouldn’t change my desires. In fact, while I don’t know for sure, he may have been the one to convince my father to put me in his care. Uncle Luise said that, if I was a maricon, the Mob has use for a handsome young man willing to take it up the ass. I was made a courier.

Being a mafia courier is one part gopher and the other part escort/fucktoy. I follow orders, go where I’m told, and provide any service required of me. The only things that I can object to are things that might cause me injury, or things that I have been ordered not to do. My first assignment was to pick up a package. I was told not to ask questions and the less I knew about the details, the better. I arrived at the address I had been given and, when the man I was to meet answered the door I was stunned.

There was no need to ask if he was my contact. I immediately recognized him. The famous American actor Dylan Tides. I had seen him in the news and on movie screens countless times. He had obviously sent his servants away to ensure the privacy of our transaction. He handed me a small duffle bag and kindly assured me that it was not dangerous. He must have sensed my nervousness. I wasn’t afraid of the bag.

My discomfort was simply the fact that I was uncertain of what I was doing anyway, and the very last thing I expected was to meet someone famous. Then he stroked my face and said that I was handsome. I was stunned. I never would have expected Mr. Tides was gay, or that he would have any interest in me. Also, I was under the impression that usually sexual service was only required either, when I was making deliveries, as a sort of tip, or added bonus to the transaction if my contact desired, or if my services had been bought and paid for. Most of those with Mob connections are powerful men, some very well known, who cannot afford the risk of indulging their desires without the assurance of absolute discretion. Of course, my life would be on the line if I broke the mafia code of absolute secrecy.

While I was shocked by Mr. Tides’ apparent interest in me, I had not been told not to have sex with him. Who am I to turn down the orders of a man that men, and women alike, around the world could only fantasize about. I was stripped, kissed, caressed, put ass up on the sofa, and my hole eaten out by this incredibly hot hunk of a man. Then I felt his cock thrust into me as he began fucking me deep and deliberately. If only my father could see me now. His eldest junior’s legs spread open like a bitch, being fucked and bred by an international super star. If only my future assignments could be this good.