El Camino Diablo
By: Ron Nelson
(© 2015 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
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Hogan “Chico” Herrara drove his 4wd Jeep Wrangler up the steep, rocky and rutted old “Camino Diablo” wagon path which cut through the heart of the Big Bend National Park in the remote part of southwest Texas. The “Big Bend,” as it’s referred to in that part of the country, covers and area bigger than Rhode Island. It stretches almost 120 miles along the Rio Grande River and the Mexican border. Despite its size and rugged features, due to its remote location, it is hardly known and rarely visited by outsiders.
Some people wondered how Hogan got his nickname, “Chico.” “Well,” he always said cheerfully, “my father was Mexican, but my mother was Irish. That’s how come the first and last names. But while my Mom always called me Hogan, my father nicknamed me ‘Chico.’ So, as we lived just outside Pecos, that’s what I usually go by. I’m good with it either way!”
It was a crystal clear Saturday in late April. Chico’s plan was to reach a high point about three miles in from the road, which snaked along the Rio Grande. That location had an awesome view of the whole area, including the bare and rugged Chisos Mountains of Texas on the US side of the broad but shallow Rio Grande river, which flowed sluggishly in front of him way down below, and of the just as rugged and forbidding mountains of Mexico on the far side of the river.
Chico’s objective was to take some really good pictures of the colorful sunset as the shadows it created crept slowly up the mountains in the fading light, and then of the dawn and the rising sun as the shadows now slipped down the sides of the mountains as the morning light increased to full daylight.
Chico knew the country around the Big Bend was beautiful, and knew he had a talent, maybe inherited from his mother, to take some very good pictures of the region, and had already sold a few pictures to a couple of the art shops in the region and made a few dollars from them. He figured that maybe, if he could get some additional good pictures, he might be able to expand his photography interests for a little side income.
For tonight, he planned to pitch his tent in a small grassy area near a small spring, which was one reason he had picked that particular spot. It was about the only patch of green grass and moss and source of water along the otherwise stark and barren path.
The “Camino Diablo” meant “Devil’s Road” and was, in fact, more than three hundred years old. It had never really been an actual road. Originally, it had marked the path along a thin but rich vein of silver ore, which began about one hundred miles below the Mexican border. From there the vein wandered up through the rugged mountains of Mexico to the Rio Grande and then continued on up through the Chisos Mountains of south Texas until it finally petered out about a hundred miles in the flat deserts of southwest Texas.
Although the vein was narrow, it held great quantities of rich silver ore, and over the years thousands of prospectors, and their mule trains, created an old wagon path which they followed for mile after mile to try their luck in mining it. However, it was a difficult and treacherous trail to follow, and while every one of the miners hoped to strike it rich one day, and a few of them did, most of them eventually left it exhausted, broke or dead somewhere along the way.
It therefore got its name, “Camino Diablo” or “Devil’s Road” from the intense hardship it inflicted on all those who tried to work it and from those who died on it as well.
Today, traces of the Camino Diablo still exist, although it is badly eroded or washed out and almost, but not quite, impassible in many places.
Although there is no longer any mining of silver along the Camino Diablo, it’s still sometimes “mined” in another way. That is, as a way for impoverished Mexicans to enter the US illegally to find some paying jobs across the border.
Only the very hardiest and toughest attempt it, however, as they had to make their way northward through the mountains out of Mexico, wade across the Rio Grande, and then make the difficult trek along the Camino Diablo to get up into central Texas and then go on from there.
There is one advantage to following the Camino Diablo, however. That is, as the country is so rugged along that part of the border that it is only lightly patrolled by the US Border Patrol.
As a result, while Chico was very much aware of the illegal immigrant problem in general, he had no concern about it here where he was planning to spend the night in this isolated area.
* * * *
For his regular job, Chico worked in a hardware and ranch supply store in Pecos. He was handy with hardware equipment and repairs, and his stocky and muscular build enabled him to pick up and move around the sometimes heavy equipment the store stocked. He liked the workout it gave him to keep himself in the very good shape he was in.
In fact, it was his solid muscular build and his Mexican heritage from which he probably also got his particular liking for “lucha libre” wrestling. Lucha libre wrestling is the colorful, frequently masked, fast-moving and athletic form of free-style wrestling common in, and loved by, the Mexicans.
Three or four times a week, after work, Chico liked to go to the small Ramirez Gym down along the bank of the sluggish Pecos River to work out.
After starting to work out a couple of years ago at the Ramirez Gym it took him very little time to go from his naturally good build to build himself up to the condition he was now. That is, with his solidly muscular physique, big arms and biceps, solid pecs and abs, and thick and muscular legs and thighs. Because of his congenial Irish smile and easy-going Mexican nature some people jokingly referred to him as the “Mexican Schwarzeneggar.” He never minded that.
He looked so good, in fact, that Mr. Ramirez, the gym owner, suggested one day that he enter a couple of local bodybuilding contests. Much to his surprise, although not to Mr. Ramirez, he not only won first the “Mr. Pecos” but then soon after also won the “Mr. West Texas” bodybuilding contest. He was pleased about that. And some other people, in particular, were pleased to notice it too.
While he was working out in Ramirez Gym, Hogan liked to watch and soon got into some lucha libre wrestling matches whenever he could. The gym had some wrestling mats, and some of the local Mexican semi-pro wrestlers trained there. And there were a few wrestlers who particularly liked working out with the hunk Chico on the mats.
Chico liked that style of wrestling not only because it was colorful and fast moving, but also because it challenged him and forced him to work hard at it. And for the sensual and erotic pleasure he got from it too. Sometimes he and the man he was working out with found themselves tightly locked together in one deadlocked hold or another. And then with that, depending on the deadlock, the hold and locked up with the other man, both men, hot, sweaty and almost naked, it could get very sensual as well.
One evening, when he thought only he and the other man he was wrestling with, both having put on their masks to wrestle lucha libre style, thought they were alone. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t long, before they were throwing each other around the mat, and then getting deadlocked more and more frequently with a double figure-four head scissors on each other to see which could keep it the longer.
Their deadlocks went on for longer and longer times as neither man wanted to give in on it. In their deadlocks, with both of their heads held tightly between the muscled thighs of the other they found their faces pressed suffocating hard into each other’s hot wet crotch and the other’s bulging cock and balls inside his tight bikini workout trunks. Neither ever had any problem with that nor the sensation it was giving them.
But then soon, with the stimulation of having their heads caught tightly between the other man’s muscular thighs and their faces pressed hard into the other’s bulging, hot and sweaty crotch, it wasn’t long before both wrestlers became more and more sexually aroused.
And then with that their big rods got longer and harder all the time, and bulged out more and more from their brief trunks, pressing ever more tightly against the other’s face, mouth and lips.
Before they knew it, first one, and then the other, got so aroused that he totally shot his full load of cum juice into the other’s face through the face masks both were wearing.
That ended that particular match. After they showered and got cleaned up, the other man had to leave. Chico, however, offered to stay behind a few minutes more to put the weights they’d been using back on the racks and clean the place up a little.
Although Chico thought he was alone, Mr. Ramirez, the gym owner, who had been watching the match, saw how it turned out. He came over to Chico with a grin on his face.
“Muy bien, Chico” he said. “I like the way you wrestle, and how it came out. Maybe someday, if you like, you and I could wrestle some. I wrestled lucha libre style for about eight years in Ciudad Juarez. Maybe I could make a few suggestions for some of your moves, and maybe we could both get some additional pleasures from our workouts?”
“Oh Si, Senor Ramirez, I would like that! With some more experience, maybe I could someday even hit the “Lucha Libre Circuit” here in Texas, and maybe pick up a few extra dollars weekends too. And, of course, whatever other pleasures we might get from that would be just some additional benefits!”
Chico had already noticed Mr. Ramirez’s muscular build under the sweatsuit he generally wore, and noticed that he worked out regularly on the weights in his own gym.
He’d never noticed Mr. Ramirez wrestling on the mats with anyone, but maybe he just wasn’t around when that might have happened.
Anyway, the idea sounded real good to him.
“Muy bien,” said Mr. Ramirez, ‘and please, Chico, although I’m “Senor Ramirez” in the gym when I have to look like I know what I’m doing, just call me Jose when we’re alone.”
“Great, Jose, I’ll look forward to whatever you can teach me, and you can teach me some good lucha libre moves. And whatever else you like to do, that’s sure “muy bien” with me too!” Chico liked not only to wrestle with men his own age, but also liked to wrestle older men, who many times wrestled more slowly but with a greater variety of holds, which gave him a chance to enjoy it just that much more.
A couple of nights later, when the gym had closed and only Jose and Chico stayed over, they both knew what would come next.
They wrestled with each other for more than an hour. Sometimes Jose was able to show Chico some new lucha libre moves and throws which not only looked good to the audience watching them, but also felt real good just getting into them, or getting hit with them, too.
In addition to working out some new moves and throws, there were also times when they lay locked together on the mat, their legs intertwined in a double leg or body scissors. Or they got into a few head-to-head body presses and their faces were pressed against each other’s leading to a double lip-lock and tongue fight.
Or maybe they got some kind of double crotch-crushing hold on the other. Every deadlock gave them not only a chance to catch their breath for the next set of fast moves, but was a sensual and suggestive hold as well. Soon both Chico and Jose found themselves getting big hard-ons.
Jose, being older, liked to wrestle more slowly and make the match last longer, which Chico liked too. That not only gave Chico a better chance to figure out how to get from one hold or another, and how to escape it, but also to enjoy it that much more while he was caught in it.
The inevitable happened. Their fast moves lead to more and more deadlocks, which then became more sensual as they worked over each other’s bulging crotches to crush them in their fists and almost rip them off each other’s body until both got so stimulated they were forced to shoot their full loads. Sometimes over each other’s body or face and sometimes down each other’s mouth and throat. Neither ever had any problem with however it came out.
After their first match, they wrestled with each other a couple of times a week after the gym closed and they were alone in the semi-darkened gym.
For Chico, wrestling with the older, more experienced and powerfully muscled Jose, he soon found he could do whatever he liked with him. And for Jose, wrestling the younger and powerful bodybuilder Chico, it was more and more of a turn-on every time.
It wasn’t long before they got so aroused they ended up shooting all of the full loads of hot creamy cum they’d built up.
At first, they only shot their loads into the air or their own trunks. But then gradually, with getting increasingly frequent figure-four scissors and similar holds on each other toward the end of their matches, they more and more ended up shooting their full loads of hot white creamy cum fully and deeply through the other’s fearsome mask and into the other’s waiting mouth and throat.
Neither ever had any problem with that either, give or take.
From working out with Jose, Chico not only continued to increasingly build up his bodybuilder’s physique, but gained a lot of ability and confidence in himself and lucha libre wrestling experience so that he’d soon be able to get into some local lucha libre matches on his own in the area.
When he was ready, Jose, who had some good connections with the lucha libre wrestling circuit, got him two lucha libre matches, one in Pecos and one in Alpine, a small town not far from Pecos. He won one match and lost the other, and suspected Jose had set it up for him that way. Jose was good with that sort of thing.
* * * *
After turning off the main highway, which was only a desolate two-lane road in that part of the Big Bend National Park anyway, he turned on to the even narrower and barely paved road to Castolon and then found the access point to the old Camino Diablo. Turning off that road and on the trail itself, he put his Jeep into its four-wheel drive mode and headed up the rutted and rock road to the spot he was looking for. In wet weather, the road became impassable being something of a small river with the runoff. But now it was dry and therefore he could get up it to where he wanted to be.
He arrived at his intended destination around five, parked his Jeep in a narrow but more or less level place just off the trail, and got his tent and small stock of food for supper. That done, he set out his photographic equipment and checked it over and assured himself that he had what he needed.
Before setting up his photo equipment he circled the tent and his camp area with a solid strip of snake repellent to ward of any of those slithering type critters which might be attracted to him in the chill of the night even though it looked to be a warm night. Then he put back in the Jeep what food he didn’t intend to eat for supper so the food wouldn’t attract any other unfriendly critters either.
And then he checked that the .44 Magnum S&W he always carried with him in remote circumstances like this, to be certain it was locked and loaded. That was in case there should be any other kinds of critters, two-legged or four-legged, on the trail who might come his way during the night.
He kept the .44 just inside his tent where he could get at it fast if need be, although he doubted there’d be any need for it tonight. In addition to his gun, he kept his water canteen just outside his tent he case he woke up thirsty during the night in that otherwise dry country.
After he got all of his tent, food and photographic equipment set up, he took a short walk, while there was still some daylight around the area, to check out the various vistas and lines of sight which might make for particularly good shots.
Then he went back to his tent to make up his supper while the sun was still above the horizon, and too early to take any pictures of the setting sun and shadow pictures he was hoping to get.
After he finished up his supper, which was no more than a couple of sandwiches and a mess of beans heated on the small portable stove he’d brought with him, he cleaned up his utensils in the water of the small nearby spring, and got ready to take some pictures of the setting sun. He had a small backpack of extra food supplies which he always kept in the Jeep anyway for emergencies in that desolate country.
The sun obliged him by setting in a spectacular presentation of gradually diminishing light and color as the dark shadows crept in over the Rio Grande down below in front of him. As he took his pictures, he watched the evening shadows as they gradually crept, slowly but inexorably, up the sides of the Chisos Mountains, where he was, and up the steep cliffs of the similar mountains on the Mexico side of the river, until finally the sun had set completely, and everything went black.
But then, as the sun set, there came out instead, in the east, a clear and beautiful moon. It was just a couple of days shy of being a full moon. And, as it rose, it shone its own brilliant light over the mountains and the Rio Grande and his own little campsite, along with the millions of stars which overtopped it from horizon to horizon.
The air was absolutely clear and quiet, and Chico could hardly focus his attention on his photographic work with the quiet beauty of it all.
Finally, he satisfied himself that he’d taken all the pictures of the setting sun and the rising moon and stars that he wanted, and figured it was time to settle in for the night and be ready to catch the morning sun rise and decreasing shadows as the next day advanced.
He set the small alarm clock he’d brought for 5am, about an hour before sunrise, so that he could have something to eat before he’d move on to take his pictures of the sunrise and the retreating shadows on the mountains as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky.
And then, with that, his weekend’s photographic project would be complete.
Or at least that was the way he figured things would work out.
End of Part 1
It was not long after midnight that some inner sense told Chico there was a strange sound outside, and he quickly, but quietly, woke up. Without moving, but now fully awake, he waited to see if he might hear the sound again.
Yes, over on the left and not far away. It sounded like a boot scraping on a rock. Silence. Then again.
Slowly, as if still asleep, he turned over, this time to face where the sound was coming from. Not eight feet away, and opening his eyes barely a slit so that they would still appear closed, he saw it. It was a man, hunched over and almost crawling, moving very slowly toward him.
Quietly Chico reached his hand over to his .44 Magnum pistol where he could quickly grab it just in case any two-legged critter, just such as this, might decide to pay him a visit during the night. He had earlier put his wallet and Jeep keys just inside the tent flap to keep them dry overnight, while his water canteen, he case he should want a drink during the warm and dry night, hung just outside the tent flap so as not to get in his way inside the small tent.
As the man crept closer and closer, Chico, in the bright moonlight, could make out three things about him. First, he was a young man, with a build not unlike his own, being stocky and muscular. Second, his hands, stretched out in front of him, held no weapon, either a knife or a pistol. Just his open hands. Third, the expression on his face looked as if he were terrified about whatever he was up to.
Then, in the background maybe fifteen feet away, at the edge of the clearing, Chico saw another man just crouching there watching the first man advance toward Chico. He looked to be somewhat taller, but maybe it was only because he was almost cadaverously thin and stooped over. He also seemed to be unarmed, and just crouched there watching as his companion approached closer and closer to Chico.
Chico sensed that while the situation certainly wasn’t normal, it didn’t appear as dangerous as might otherwise be the case.
He felt, so long as the younger man now almost up to him still looked to be unarmed, and with his own powerful build and his experience with lucha libre wrestling, even if the other man were also a wrestler or fighter, he could probably make a pretty good account of himself and take care of his anticipated assailant. And, if the more distant man didn’t make any moves, and a fight would be just one-on-one, he could probably handle it very nicely.
But then the young man creeping slowly and silently toward him did something a little strange, while Chico could see even more clearly the frightened look on his face. Instead of reaching out to jump on and attack Chico inside his tent, he reached to the side of the tent where Chico’s canteen was hung, and tried to quietly seize it in his hand.
As his attacker reached out to grab the canteen, Chico suddenly leaped half way out of his tent and grabbed his attacker’s wrist just as he was about to grab the canteen.
In the next instant, Chico was the rest of the way out of his tent, grabbed the man’s other wrist as well, and then pushed him over on his back and leaped on top of him to pin him down. It was much like a spectacular lucha libre move the Mexican audiences liked so much, where one masked wrestler has seized the other and both struggle with each other, the one to keep the hold and the other to escape.
But in this case both Chico and his assailant were almost naked, with Chico wearing only a brief pair of skivvy shorts and the other only a thin pair of flimsy, torn and dirty pants.
His victim was bowled over by Chico’s sudden and unexpected move on him, and, for a moment, lay almost motionless underneath him, his eyes and face now having an even greater appearance of fear and alarm.
But then the young man nevertheless began to fight back and try to squirm out from under the powerful Chico on top of him. Chico soon found out that this opponent was by no means small or weak, and, despite his frightened condition, found he had his hands full trying to hold him down.
As a result, to increase his hold on his victim, Chico moved to get a full face-to-face body press on the man. Then, with that, he moved up a few inches on him so that he could put more of his body weight on the man’s head to keep him down, and pressed one of his big and muscular pecs over the man’s face to try to disorient and smother him with his upper body.
Then, at the same time, he shifted his legs over so that one of his powerfully thick and muscular thighs was between the other man’s almost equally thick and powerful legs, but from where Chico could press his thick upper thigh hard into the other man’s crotch and thereby crush his cock and balls under his weight to hold him down and punish him at his lower end too.
This didn’t seem to have any great effect on the man, however, and so Chico quickly figured he must also be something of a wrestler, to be able to take some holds and pressure like that in stride, and yet try to escape, which he continued to do, anyway.
For a long minute Chico and the other man remained deadlocked and struggled with each other until suddenly the man seemed to lose all his strength, gave up and went limp.
“Ok, senor, I give up. I’m sorry. You have me,” he said. And then, as Chico now withdrew off the man just a little, while still keeping on top of him and holding him down to see if he was going to try and play some trick, Chico could see the look of despair on the young man’s face and his eyes begin to water with tears.
In their struggle, Chico could now see he probably wasn’t more than twenty years old. He was strong and muscular for his age, and not much smaller than Chico, but still not quite an even match with Chico.
And then, when Chico looked up to check on his surrounding, and particularly on the other man who had been crouching a few feet away and whatever he was doing, he saw that the other man had come up to them while they were struggling, had reached and seized the canteen, and was in the process of taking some large mouthfuls of water from it.
And then from there, when the other man was satisfied for the moment, and completely ignoring Chico, he came over and lifted the head of the young man a few inches off the ground, even though Chico was still holding him down, but now only loosely, and put the canteen to the young man’s mouth.
For a moment or two, none of the three moved while the young man drank from the canteen which the older man held for him, while Chico just watched them both.
It then dawned on Chico. They weren’t interested in him at all. All they wanted was water, a very rare and precious commodity in this arid mountain area, and fatal to someone who goes too long without it.
Chico made no attempt to interfere with their drinking from the canteen until they had entirely emptied it. Then, without saying a word, he got up, took the canteen from the older man’s hands, walked over to his Jeep where he had two five-gallon jugs of water in reserve, re-filled the canteen and brought it back and placed it in the older man’s hands.
Both the older and the younger man just looked at him, sheepish grins coming slowly to their faces, while none of the three said anything.
“Tienen ustedes hambre tambien? Are you hungry too?” asked Chico of the two. The old man just had a blank expression on his face as if he didn’t understand the question, but the young man said, “Si, senior, we haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. And while we are not yet starving, we could use something to eat.
“It was the water we most needed, as we haven’t had any since early last night, and we were very worried about that.”
“Ok,” replied Chico, a smile coming to his face, I think maybe I can find something for you to eat! Have all the water you like too.”
It was now still not quite one in the morning, but the moonlight cast a white but clear glow over all of them and their surroundings.
As Chico got up to go to his Jeep, where he kept his food supplies, including two cartons of emergency rations, the other two sat on the ground. Chico could see that they were close to exhaustion, and while he wondered about their circumstances, he knew that could wait until at least they had some food inside of them to restore at least some of their energy. The older man, in particular, sat quietly and almost motionlessly with his head down almost on his chest and not looking well at all.
In a couple of minutes Chico had pulled out a half dozen sandwiches which he had intended to eat himself over the weekend, and four energy bars for additional energy, and given it to them. He noticed that while the younger man quickly downed his sandwiches, the older man only ate about half a sandwich and half an energy bar, which seemed to be all that he could down.
He saw that the younger man also noticed that the older man was barely eating, and tried to encourage him to have some more, but the old man gently shook his head no. He spoke to the old man in Spanish, and turned to Chico and said, “My grandfather doesn’t speak or understand English,” so I speak Spanish to him.”
“I understand, no problema at all,” was Chico’s easy reply.
As Chico and at least the younger man were still keyed up over their unexpected and very possibly dangerous encounter, Chico thought he’d question them just briefly at least as to their circumstances and how they happened to be here tonight.
“My grandfather, his name is Felipe, and I am Juan Pablo, and you?” asked Juan Pablo, detouring slightly in their conversation.
“My American name is Hogan, but my Mexican friends and family call me Chico, and I’m glad to meet you. But now tell me how you happen to be here? replied Chico.
“My grandfather and I have been on the Camino Diablo trail for about a week now, starting about a hundred miles south of the border and the Rio Grande. My grandfather used to be a guide in these parts for many years, guiding young Mexican men up to and into the US so that they could find some work and live some better lives.
“But my grandfather, we call him ‘El Viejo,’ ‘the Old Man’ is, I think, now very much worn out, and I am not sure how much longer he can go on. Maybe not very long, I think.
“Two days ago we finally reached the Rio Grande, but by then, with the rugged mountains, my grandfather was just about worn out.
“So we hid and rested on the south bank of the Rio Grande during the day, and then crossed over last night. Unfortunately, my grandfather lost his footing in the river bed where they make their usual ford, and, in attempting to rescue him, both of us lost our packs, and all of our supplies were gone into the river.
“We finally made it across to the US bank, however, and spent the whole day hiding. It was very warm and we were very tired, and the river water is not good to drink, so we were more and more thirsty and desperate all the time.
“ ’El Viejo’ remembered, of course, from his previous guide trips, of this spring here along the Diablo trail, so we knew we had to try and make it if we were to survive.
“But then, when we arrived late this afternoon, as we approached it, we saw your Jeep here, and that you were camping here yourself, which blocked the spring from our use.
“We were desperate, and figured we would wait until you retired for the night and would then try either to reach the spring or, when we came closer and saw your canteen just outside you tent, thought that would be the better option if we but get it and drink from it, and then refill it from the spring and take it with us on the rest of our journey.”
“Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to have worked out very well, and so now once again we are lost,” said Juan Pablo, a depressed expression on his face.
Meanwhile, El Viejo, Felipe, just sat nearby with little expression of anything on his face except of age, tiredness and sadness.
For a moment, Chico said nothing, but his mind was churning. Clearly, this changed his plans completely for the weekend. He couldn’t just leave these two men here to fend for themselves. The older man was obviously in no condition to go on much further, nor the younger man either, who was full of spirit, but also pretty well lost as to what to do and what would happened next.
“What was you destination here in the US?” asked Chico, turning the conversation slightly to its side.
“We were heading up to Marathon, which I think is about a hundred miles north of here. About half the distance is through the mountains along the Diablo trail, and the rest across open desert. But my grandfather knows a rancher in Marathon who is friendly and helpful to migrant Mexicans, and who has helped him before.
“In previous times, the rancher has taken migrants such as ourselves and hidden them in his barn until transportation could be arranged to take them to other places in the States where hopefully they can get jobs and make some money. And now we hope he will do the same for us.”
“Ok,” said Chico, putting a smile in his voice although with some questions in his mind, I’m heading back that way later today (as it was now still only about two o’clock in the morning). “How about if I take you up there in my Jeep and leave you off with him. It’s only slightly out of my way, no problem, back to Pecos, where I live.”
“Oh, Chico, if you did that, you would save our lives!”
As he said it, now fully recovered physically with the food and water he’d eaten, the younger man jumped up to embrace Chico, and the two of them, perhaps not at all unwillingly, as Chico had been aware of the hunky Juan Pablo and his brief wrestling experience with him when they first met, and Juan Pablo liking very much what he saw and then felt in the body-builder muscularity of Chico.
As they wrestled around now briefly, but in a very friendly way, Chico said, “You’re a pretty good wrestler, Juan Pablo, you like to wrestle around with guys?”
“Oh, si, Chico, at home we wrestle around on the river bank where I live, and sometimes we wrestle to earn a few extra pesos in the cantina in our little village. We like to give pleasure to others watching us. And of course we like the pleasure we get from it ourselves, particularly when we are alone and in private, and where nothing is barred.
“Maybe sometime you and I could wrestle that way, and see to our own pleasure, do you think?” said Juan Pablo, a knowing grin on his face.
“I expect we could see about that, and I know it would give me a lot of pleasure to wrestle with you, anything goes, until we are both exhausted with the pleasure of it!” replied Chico.
Both knew they were saying and thinking the same thing, and knew it would have to come about, one way or another.
“But for now,” said Chico, looking at the bright moon, almost directly overhead, and noting the stars in the sky and taking a glance at his watch as well, it’s about two o’clock in the morning.
“What do you say we all sack out for the night. You’ve had a long trek to get here, and we’re not home yet. Let me get a couple of spare blankets I keep in the Jeep and you can wrap yourselves up in them and then, when it’s daylight in the morning, we see where we go from there.”
Juan Pablo translated what Chico said to his grandfather, who smiled as he heard it, although obviously he was very tired even though he had finally managed to finish his one sandwich, and then a second one which his grandson insisted he eat.
Within ten minutes all were fast asleep in their tent or blankets while the moon and stars silent traversed the heavens overhead.
Chico was the first to arise in the morning and it was already seven-thirty, late by his usual time for getting up. Juan Pablo and El Viejo still slept with their greater degree of exhaustion.
By the time they arose, shortly after eight, Chico had put together a hot breakfast with the supplies he had brought with him and now cooked over the campfire he had built. It consisted of grits, biscuits scrambled eggs, orange juice and hot coffee, and tasted not only very good to Chico, but was a veritable feast to Juan Pablo and his grandfather.
Chico noticed that, as the night before, Felipe didn’t eat much. It was just enough to keep going, but not much more. Still, it seemed to be enough for the moment.
By nine o’clock, all three had finished their breakfast, and Juan Pablo and his grandfather had taken the opportunity of washing up in the small spring along side their campsite while Chico would shower when he got home.
After cleaning up the campsite, and Chico putting all of his camera equipment back in his Jeep, unused now for this trip, all three piled into the Jeep for the trip back down the Camino Diablo trail to the main road. And then from there the road back up north out of the Big Bend National Park on to Marathon, where they’d plan to go to the ranch which would take Juan Pablo and his grandfather in for whatever and wherever their journey would take them next, while Chico would then return to Pecos.
They said little along the way to Marathon. Each was wrapped up in his own thoughts. What had brought them together is this most unusual way, and, after they separated, what would happen to them next.
As Chico and Juan Pablo occasionally glanced at each other, they hoped that at least they might have a chance to wrestle with each other, privately, for all the pleasure it would bring them, and to remember each other by.
Eventually, by mid-afternoon, they reached Marathon, and El Viejo was able to direct Chico on how to get to the rancher’s place. It was about four miles off the main highway, but not difficult to find.
When they arrived, and before Chico even turned off the Jeep engine, the rancher came out of his house and motioned for Chico to put his Jeep in the barn, toward which he walked and pulled open the big sliding door so that the Jeep could go into it and not be seen from the outside.
In another ten minutes, introductions had been made all around. The rancher said he would be glad to have Juan Pablo and Felipe stay with him until further arrangements could be made.
As he talked with them, however, Chico noticed the rancher carefully studying the face and bearing of El Viejo, and, while he said nothing, it was clear he was concerned about him.
It was about four when all of their immediate arrangements had been taken care of, Chico saying he would want to leave later in the day or evening to head back to Pecos. The rancher, who Chico noticed was very hospitable but never really introduced himself by name, said he had a number of things he needed to take care of on the ranch, and suggested El Viejo settle in a bunk in the bunkhouse to get some additional rest.
Which left Chico and Juan Pablo alone for the next couple of hours.
“When we put the Jeep in the barn,” said Chico with a smile on his face, I noticed one of the horse stalls, with a loose dirt floor, was empty. Do you suppose that would be a good place for us to wrestle around in, and see what might come of it?”
Replied Juan Pablo with a matching smile on his face, “I think that’s quite possible, and there’s only one way to find out!”
Chico had already noticed the hunky build of the younger and slightly smaller Juan Pablo, while Juan Pablo had already noticed, and felt, the somewhat bigger and older and powerfully muscled body of the part-time lucha libre wrestler on his own.
Within minutes, they had stripped off all their clothes so that they would be able to wrestle each other naked in the mud and muck of one of the old wood-lined horse stalls which was presently empty.
They could hardly wait to get into it with each other, for however it might eventually come out. Once inside the stall, they couldn’t wait any longer. The two naked and muscular hunks quickly locked up with each other in a standing bear hug, each trying to throw the other down into the dirt beneath them.
Both knew what they wanted to give and get from the other, and both were already highly aroused with their jutting hard-ons aiming straight out towards the other. Both big and hard rods were targets too big to be ignored.
Suddenly both began to attack the other’s big cock handle and felt his own being similarly attacked in return as each tried to crush and pull the other‘s big load of male equipment clear off his body, while finding his own being similarly crushed and almost torn off in return. It was a crushing and painful feeling neither could get enough of.
It was only a moment until both forced the other to his knees, and they would then continue their struggle in the dirt floor of the horse stall.
It turned out both were familiar with and liked the Mexican style of “lucha libre” wrestling, and their movements were quick and dramatic, both give and take, which they both liked and were used to. Frequently, however, they also found themselves deadlocked in one hold or another, which gave them a chance not only to catch their breath, but also enjoy the pleasure or the pain they were suffering. Neither could get enough of that either.
After their first standing tight bear hug while they were trying to crush each other’s big, long and hard cock rod, sticking straight out from their bodies, Chico felt his foot slip on a damp load of horse dung and both crashed down into the dirt and muck beneath them. Chico was on the bottom and the naked and hunky Juan Pablo on top of him. Neither had any problem with that.
In the adjoining stall, a horse gave a low whinney at the commotion in the stall next to him, looked over the rail separating them, but then resumed feeding on the hay in the rack in front of him.
For over an hour Chico and Juan Pablo wrestled back and forth with each other. Both liked to dominate the other, but at the same time liking to be dominated by the other just as much. Both soon found and worked on some of their own, and the other’s specialties.
Chico’s big body-builder’s pecs were targets for the strong and crushing hands of Juan Pablo to attack, which Chico always like the feel of, and Chico frequently got some solid headlocks on Juan Pablo to bring his face into his big pecs until he eventually managed to shove into Juan Pablo’s mouth to make him suck them while he was also almost suffocating on them.
Juan Pablo, on the other hand, who had powerfully thick and strong legs and thighs from the heavy farm work he was used to, like to wrap them around Chico’s head in powerful figure-four head scissors, pressing his naked and now dirty with horse dung big and hard cock and balls hard into Chico’s face to suffocate him on them in return.
And a score of other tight, crushing and sensually erotic other lucha libre holds and moves as well as they fought each other in the narrow confines of the empty and muck-floored horse stall.
And, more and more, along with all their other moves and holds, their increasing crotch holds and punishment as they more and more seized and squeezed the other’s big and throbbing man tools and balls to punish them all they could. Neither of the two hunky wrestlers could ever getting enough of it.
Finally, however, after almost an hour’s wrestling each other in the muck-floored horse stall, they both knew they had gotten so sexually aroused that they would very soon be forced to shoot all of the full loads of their hot cum juice out, which they’d been building up to for so long, whether they wanted their fight to end or not.
Once again they found themselves, as they had a number of times already, deadlocked in a double figure-four head scissors on each other, the big, hard, dark and throbbing cock of each one stabbed deep down into the other’s mouth and throat, while the other’s was stabbed just as deeply down into his own mouth and throat.
Chico, the stronger of the two, liked to be on the bottom, and it was obvious Juan Pablo liked to be the dominant man on top.
For a final long minute they struggled with each other, both to shoot their own full load deep down the other’s throat while looking to taste the other’s hot rich juice explode into his own mouth. Then they realized they had to come.
Suddenly both felt their big load of hot cum juice burst out of their own long and hard cock rod deep into the other’s mouth and throat, while the other’s equally big load of cream hot cum juice burst out and explode into his own mouth and flood down his own throat.
On and on their sweet hot cum juice flowed into the other’s moth until finally both were completely drained and exhausted. All they could do then was to lie together in the muck floor of the horse stall, which had been their fight ring, until their energy would come back.
It had been real good, and both knew they were ready to get into it again with each other as soon as they could. But their present circumstances wouldn’t make that possible, and so that would have to be it for now. But maybe some time again?
Chico got back to Pecos just after midnight and couldn’t help but think what a weekend it had been. Here it started so normally, then the excitement when Juan Pablo and El Viejo approached his campsite in the dark, and then their realization of the predicament they were in.
Then bringing them up to Marathon to the rancher they knew to continue their journey to wherever it might lead them, with Chico returning to Pecos to resume his own normal life.
But Chico couldn’t forget his great wrestling match with the hunky Juan Pablo in the muck-floored horse stall of the rancher‘s barn, and the delicious pleasure both he and Juan Pablo had gotten from that.
It was about three months later that Chico drove down to Marathon to deliver a piece of hardware equipment that he decided to visit the rancher with whom he had left Juan Pablo and El Viejo to find out what had become of them.
The rancher said that he made arrangements for both of them to leave about a week after they arrived, to be taken further up north where they would find work with a garden and landscape firm.
El Viejo, however, was too tired to go on, and it turned out he was pretty sick too. So it was arranged that he would go back to his home in Mexico with a truckload of Mexicans who were returning to their homes in the same district, after making some good money in the US, and be back with his own folks there.
Juan Pablo, meanwhile, continued with the arrangements the rancher had made, and had gone off further north with about six other men to work as a team with a big landscaper up in the Carolinas.
“Good for them,” said Chico to the rancher. “While I’m mighty sorry about El Viejo, I think we all knew that maybe he should turn and go back home again. As for his grandson, Juan Pablo, he’s got a much brighter future. But I knew he was real pleased for his grandson, and I know both of them surely appreciated how you helped them out when they had just about reached the end of their rope.
“Incidentally, somebody said a while back that while Juan Pablo liked his job up in the Carolinas, he sort of missed being down in these parts too and closer to Mexico, and so maybe someday he might come ‘round here again.
“If he does come back, ‘cause I know you and he hit it off real good, would you want me to send him up to you in Pecos?”
“Oh yeah, man,” was Chico’s quick reply, “any time Juan Pablo could come back, I’d sure like to see him again. In fact, maybe I could help him get his papers going to remain here in the US. And then all sorts of other good things might happen from there!”
‘Oh yeah,’ Chico thought, smiling to himself, ‘all sorts of “other good things,” for sure!’