Wrestler's Story - Philippe & Greg
(© 2012 by the author)
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Greg Gregson rode his red and black retro Suzuki Intruder 1400 motorcycle down the eighteen miles from his home in Andrews, South Carolina, to Georgetown, the quiet and historic port city located on the Intracoastal Waterway. That waterway, which extends all the way from Delaware to Florida, runs just inside the coastline and is a passage which protects smaller boats from the possibly rougher waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
It was just after seven Saturday morning. The day promised to be another hot one, but soon he’d begin to feel the cooler breezes coming off the water as he headed to Mason’s Marina, just south of Georgetown.
Greg’s weekday job was in cell phone electronics and the construction and installation of cell phone towers up and down the Coast. His two years in trade school studying for that had paid off, and he liked his work with TechComm, LLC.
However, his love, in addition to motorcycles, was for powerboats of all kinds, particularly those he had seen so many times passing by up and down the Intracoastal Waterway from up North to Florida and everywhere in between. It always filled him with a sense of wonder and curiosity as to where they had come from, where they were headed, and what adventures they had experienced.
Two years ago, knowing he had some extra time on his hands and
weekends off, he wondered if he might not be able to get a part-time job on
weekends at a marina, doing whatever they wanted, so he could be closer to boats
and all their doings. Greg was then twenty-three, weighed one-seventy-five, as
he still did, was five-nine, and had a naturally strong and muscular
Greg followed up on his idea and went over to Mason’s Marina one day to see if they might be able to use him some way. He met with Mark Mason, the owner, and his son Mitch. They all quickly hit it off with each other, and Mark agreed to take him on part-time on weekends, just as he’d hoped.
Mason’s Marina was a good-sized marina set apart from any other business, with only a small entrance sign facing inland. It was located on a wider part of the Waterway, in sort of an inlet, surrounded on all landsides by tidal scrubland. However, it had fairly direct and deep-water access to the Atlantic.
During the Civil War the Confederate Navy had used that inlet as a hidden base from which to make raids on Union ships passing by, as well as to repair and refit some of their smaller or damaged boats while keeping them out of sight. It had been used as an anchorage of one sort or another ever since, and about fifteen years ago Mark Mason bought it for a marina.
Today Mason’s Marina had a big warehouse-type building into which smaller boats could be hauled for repair work. In addition, there were two large open docks where larger boats could be hauled up on land for hull cleaning and repair. The marina had a long waterfront bulkhead pier where larger boats could remain tied for work. In addition, there were fuel lines for boats simply wanting to fill their tanks for their onward journeys.
In addition to the big boat warehouse, Mason’s Marina had two smaller buildings. Both were supply warehouses filled with boat equipment and supplies, electrical and piping fittings, engine machinery and equipment, paint, communications equipment, and a cargo area for temporary storage of incoming or outbound cargo, and cargo nets and mats.
In the building where the stored lading and cargo mats and nets
a Mark had his small office. Nearby in the warehouse, there
were four cots in the rear of the building where there also was a washroom
facility. The cots were for temporary or weekend employees like Greg, or
on-board hands who might want to spend a night on shore instead of on their
Greg liked to sleep there as it always smelled so good of ships and supplies. And he soon found the cargo mats were real good for wrestling on too.
He liked to wrestle around with other guys whenever he could, and found that every once in a while some of the sailors on the boats, both younger and older men, and other part-time employees of the marina who were staying over for the night, sometimes liked to wrestle around at night the same way he did.
And he wasn’t competitive by nature, but he liked the give and take and the sensual feel of another man’s muscular body working against his own for as long as they could make it last, and for whatever the outcome might be. At one time or another, he’d also wrestled with Mark and his son Mitch there too.
Mark was a muscular man of about forty-five, and Mitch was twenty. Mitch was about two inches taller than his father at five-eleven, but about twenty pounds lighter, at about one sixty-five. Actually the age, height and weight of the other wrestler, whoever he might be, never made any difference to Greg just so long as they liked the same easy give and take of wrestling around for however it might end up.
When he arrived at the marina, Greg rode up to the warehouses and put down the kickstand to park his bike next to the warehouse in which Mark’s office and the sleeping cots were located. As he looked around outside before going into Mark’s office he noticed a fairly large boat, almost sort of military looking, tied up at the far end of the long docking pier. It was painted gray with black and yellow trim. On the stern were its name, ‘Trader Joe’ and its homeport, Nassau.
After checking in, Greg walked over to Mark’s office to find out what he wanted him to do for the weekend. Mark was inside talking with another man, similarly built to Mark, about the same age and size, and also solid and muscular. Mark was going to wait outside until he and the other man were finished talking, but Mark waved him to come in and join them.
“Hey, Greg…” said Mark, “…glad to see you again for this weekend. We were just talking about you. We’ve got sort of a special job for you if you’d like to get into it.
“This is Steve Swanson, owner and skipper of the ‘Trader Joe’ which I expect you noticed out there at the far end of the pier.
“Pleased to meet you, Greg,” said Steve with a friendly smile on his face.
“The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Steve,” replied Greg smiling back.
“Just call me ‘Steve,’ Greg, and later on I’ll want to introduce you to my son Robbie, and then Philippe.”
Greg noticed that while Steve gave the relationship of Robbie, he didn’t bother with that of Philippe. Maybe it was another son, or maybe one of the crew, or just a friend. Not that it mattered. Greg looked forward to meeting all of the men Steve might want to introduce him to.
Mark then continued by saying, “The ‘Trader Joe’ is an interesting boat, or ship, really, as it’s bigger and ocean-going, although we won’t get into the semantics of the difference.
“It’s a former US Coast Guard vessel originally designed for off-shore patrol, chase or aid purposes, and built for both speed with some cargo capacity too. It was declared surplus a few years ago by the USCG and Steve bought it. Then he had it refitted, largely by us, for additional cargo purposes. At the same time as it was refitted, the engine power was increased for greater speed as it’s now used to move cargo and supplies among the Caribbean islands, including the Bahamas, Jamaica, the Caymans and other islands too — whatever’s called for.
“Steve and Robbie have just come in from Jamaica, and will be heading back there from here. However, they picked up a little damage to the ship so we need to finish getting that fixed up today, plus offloading some cargo and loading some new cargo on board so that they can head back out to sea tomorrow at four in the afternoon with the tide and light.”
“Sounds great,” said Greg. “Whatever I can do to help, just say the word! I’m all yours!”
“What our plan is,” said Steve, picking up the conversation, “is that this morning Philippe is working on the engine repair, which is the most important thing to be done first and which I’d like you to give him a hand on with your own mechanical expertise. Some of it is pretty heavy, but you look like you’ll be able to handle that.” Steve looked at Greg’s muscular build, and figured he’d be real good for that, and maybe more.
“Then this afternoon we need to get some boxes of cargo and equipment unloaded and put into the marina warehouse, which I hope we can get finished by five or so, and we need to get to some of the outside repairs on the boat itself.
“Then tomorrow morning we need to get some other cargo, equipment and supplies on board, which job I hope we can finish by noon. Then we’ll just need to finish things up so that we can sail at four.
“So, for today, we’re going to be just sort of all over the place and flexible on what we’ll be doing at any one time. But I’m hoping with Philippe and you taking care of the main engine repair work, and then we’ll all work on unloading and loading the cargo in sort of a chain line, and then with Philippe taking care of the other inside repairs and you and Robbie taking care of the outside, we’ll get it done. I’ll be all over, and I think we should be able to get everything done and have a few hours to relax tonight after work too.”
“The whole thing sounds good to me, Steve, if you’ll just point me in the right direction and where to begin,” said Greg.
“Good deal; you look like you’ll be able to handle anything that comes your way and maybe then some, and we’re much obliged.
“Let’s first head over to the ‘Trader Joe’ and I can show you around and get you joined up with Philippe as you’ll be seeing the most of him.”
As Steve was talking, his son Robbie, about nineteen, sturdy and good-natured, had come in quietly. Steve introduced them and then continued with his outline of their plans. Then Steve and Robbie and Greg walked out and along the long dock to where the ‘Trader Joe’ was docked.
As Steve, Robbie and Greg boarded the ‘Trader Joe,’ Greg noticed a number of dents and scratches on the solid steel superstructure, particularly around the bridge, and that a window of the bridge had just been replaced. The dents had been sanded and primed, but needed one or two final coats of paint to complete those jobs. He also saw some equipment boxes on the ladder just outside the bridge which said “Marine Radio, Radar and GPS Equipment.” ‘Must be getting some new equipment in the bridge,’ Greg thought.
“C’mon down to the engine room where you’ll be helping Philippe,” said Steve as they descended the ladder to the big engine room which was crammed with pipes and equipment of all sorts. At the opposite end of the engine room Greg saw the big marine diesels and then the main shaft itself.
“Here’s where we had some damage, burned out a couple of main bearings and had some collateral damage too,” said Steve, “which is what Philippe is working on and where we need a couple of extra strong and talented hands.”
As Greg looked into the dimly lit compartment, it took him a couple of seconds to take it all in. Then he noticed the powerfully muscular deep mahogany back of a man crouched down in front of them working close to the deck on a piece of equipment. He looked like maybe he was in his mid-twenties by the lean and muscled tone of his body.
As they came up to him, the man backed up from the machine he was working on, stood up with a big grin on his face, and began to wipe his hands, which were covered with grease, in order to shake their hands. He was dressed only in tight orange shorts and combat boots. Other than that, he was naked and his skin glistened with sweat. To Greg, he looked like pictures he’d seen of powerfully built naked and victorious gladiators in the Roman Coliseum. He did look good.
Greg thought he also looked like a sleek, lithe and muscular raven-black panther, ready for whatever challenge he might encounter. He was just a little taller than Greg but maybe about the same weight or slightly more with the highly defined body of an athlete with his big biceps, strong pecs, tight abs, and his powerfully muscular legs and thighs. Greg felt his whole body throb with pleasure as he looked at the man now standing in front of them.
“Philippe,” said Steve, “let me introduce our man Greg to you. Greg, this is Philippe.” They shook hands and both liked the feel of the other’s firm but not crushing grip. They held it a couple of seconds more than they needed to as grins covered their faces and they looked into each other’s eyes.
“Greg’s got some good background in mechanics, and, looking at him, I think he’ll be able to give you a hand on some of the heavier work you’ve got coming up.
“So just do whatever you like with him until the two of you get
finished up. I’ll be up on deck and on the bridge if you need anything, and
feel free to call on me or Robbie too for anything you need. I can see the
repair is coming along, but I know it’s a lot of work and it’s pretty cramped in
too as well.” Then, leaving Greg with Philippe, Steve and Robbie
left the engine room to go up on deck again.
“Hey mon,” said Philippe, “I think we get along real good but we have big job here and we better keep working at it until it done.”
Greg was not only real pleased to be assigned to help Philippe, but knew he wanted to know him a lot better too. He had a sense of confidence about him and he spoke in a soft but clear voice with a Jamaican accent, and it was a pleasure to hear him speak. Greg knew this was going to be a very good day, working with Philippe, and he was ready to help him any way he could.
Philippe asked him to go to the other side of the piece of equipment he was working on and which he was trying to unbolt and move. Together, both strained until finally Philippe was able to undo the bolts holding it in place. Then the two of them, working and pulling together, began to half lift and half drag it to the ladder to get it out of the engine room. As they worked together, their muscular bodies, now both covered with sweat and grease, got the big piece of equipment moved. They were similarly strong so neither had to assume the greater part of the burden himself.
Then they wrestled it up the ladder to the deck, first Philippe below and Greg above to the first stage, then reversing their positions with Greg below and Philippe above. They made a perfect team and soon the big piece of equipment was on the deck where it could be removed by a forklift.
For the next three hours they worked together steadily and quietly in the engine room. Greg could quickly see what Philippe was working on and needed, and was able to take the other side of whatever the job called for so that they could share the work evenly and Greg could be of the greatest help to Philippe.
As they worked, Greg noticed that from time to time Philippe looked at him and his tanned muscular body. He wondered, and hoped, that maybe Philippe was thinking the same thing toward him that he was thinking toward Philippe.
Around mid-morning Steve came back down into the engine room and watched them for a moment or two. He had brought with him a couple of mugs of rich Columbian coffee from the galley and they were glad to take a few minutes’ break.
“How’s it going, Philippe? Is there anything you need to make it any easier for you, and I hope Greg is able to give you a good hand,” said Steve.
“Oh mon,” was Philippe’s reply, “it go real good and I am sure we finish in another couple of hours, including cleanup. My friend Greg real good, and we wrestle damaged equipment out and installed new equipment and made full repair real good. I think maybe we take him home with us and we keep him for ourselves!”
Steve and Greg chuckled. Steve was glad to hear that Greg was working out so well, as he’d hoped and knew he would, and Greg was pleased with the compliment Philippe paid him.
At the same time, Greg couldn’t quite figure out what it was with Philippe. Here he was probably maybe only two or three years older than himself, and yet he had a certain aura of confidence and good nature about him that suggested a sense of command. And he had the build of a polished and powerful athlete, and was a highly competent engineer too.
Even more, Greg knew he wanted to get to know Philippe a lot better. He knew he already liked the feel of having Philippe’s muscular body pressed against and working tightly with his own as they wrestled the machinery and equipment around, and he knew Philippe very much liked the same feeling with him too.
The whole engine repair was completed, tested and cleaned up shortly after noon, just as Philippe had estimated. Greg knew he had been a big help in getting them to that point, and was as pleased as Philippe when Steve and Mark came down into the engine room to inspect the whole thing when it was finished. They were all very impressed with the job Philippe and Greg had done, and expressed their thoughts and compliments as well.
Philippe and Greg then got cleaned up and went up to the galley for lunch. But while Steve and Robbie, who had now joined them from the work he was doing in the warehouse preparing for their departure, and Greg ate outside in the fresh air under the shadow of the upper deck, Philippe stayed inside and away from the windows. Greg thought that was interesting, but said nothing. Maybe Philippe was sensitive to the sun.
As they worked down below earlier, Greg had noticed three or four of what looked like fairly recent scars on Philippe’s otherwise perfect body. Two scars were on his arm near his big biceps, one on the side of his chest, and one on his tight abs. Each looked to be about an inch or two long, as if they’d been inflicted in a knife fight.
They had healed reasonably well, but looked as if they’d been fairly recently inflicted, and a slight scab and the scar itself remained. Greg wondered what the circumstance might have been to cause them as Philippe otherwise seemed like a very peaceful and good-natured man. It was difficult to imagine him in a knife fight. However, Greg said nothing. But it did seem odd.
After lunch, Steve had said earlier they would unload the cargo they were carrying, and then begin to load the ‘Trader Joe’ with some new cargo.
The cargo hold was forward, and Steve opened the hatch so that they could gain entry to it. The procedure would be that one man would be below in the cargo compartment and remove the cargo from where it was secured. Just about all of it was in boxes of three or four cubic feet weighing between twenty and forty pounds. He would then pass it to the next man who would load the boxes on to a conveyor belt that went from the hold to the deck. Then another man would transfer the boxes from the top of the conveyor belt and place them on another conveyor belt that ran down to the dock where the boxes would then be loaded on a pallet and a forklift would move it to the warehouse.
The new cargo would then be moved from the warehouse to the ‘Trader Joe’ reversing the same procedure.
Philippe would be in the cargo hold and pass the boxes of cargo over to Greg who would put them on the conveyor belt. To balance their workload, Philippe and Greg alternated their positions from time to time, while both would together lift the heaviest boxes and some big pieces of uncrated equipment where two sets of strong arms and backs were called for.
Robbie was on deck to transfer the boxes between the conveyors, and Mitch transferred the boxes from the conveyor to the pallet and the forklift. The system apparently was one they’d followed before and it worked well.
Again, as in the morning in the engine room, Philippe and Greg worked together. They were both now almost naked as, with the heat and work, Greg had taken off all but his tight workout shorts and the combat boots he too was wearing. As they worked they couldn’t help but like to look at the other’s muscular body and watch the other move. And when they needed to lift something together, neither pulled back when their muscular bodies met as they strained to move whatever it was they were doing.
By five o’clock, all of the ‘Trader Joe’s’ cargo had been removed. But then they decided to work another couple of hours to load some of the new cargo on board to get at least half of that job done too. The loading procedure was virtually unchanged to get the new cargo on board and into the cargo hold. However, instead of securing it right then, they would only get it into the cargo compartment and see to stowing it properly and tightly later so that it wouldn’t shift or get loose in case a storm came up.
At seven o’clock they called it a day. Steve and Robbie came back on board from the warehouse where they had been preparing the new cargo so that they, with Philippe, would have supper on board the ‘Trader Joe’ and then get things settled down for the night.
Greg went ashore and had supper at a nearby café with Steve and Robbie and a couple of the other men working at the marina. It had been a full day for all of them and they talked mostly about no more than the latest doings in Georgetown and how the local high school ball teams were doing.
As they talked, however, Greg couldn’t get his mind off the good looking, good natured and powerfully muscular Philippe. A couple of brief times while they were working together Philippe and Greg had casually asked each other where they got their good builds from. Both said it was partly natural, but both said they liked to work out and liked to wrestle around too whenever they got a chance. Maybe they were thinking the same thing.
Philippe was reticent to say much about his past, although he said his home was in Jamaica where he grew up and liked to go swimming and scuba diving in the warm Caribbean Sea. In addition, he liked to go hunting, run on the nearby dirt roads and liked to wrestle around with other boys or men who lived in the area when he wasn’t occupied with his schooling.
Greg said he’d grown up and gone to school in Andrews, where he lived now, and then went to a trade school up in Columbia. Also that he liked to work out and liked to wrestle easy give and take. He said he wasn’t competitive but just liked the workout and sensual pleasure of it, and liked to make it last as long as possible for however it came out. Philippe indicated he liked to wrestle around the same way too.
After supper, Steve, Robbie, Greg and the other two men went their separate ways.
Greg took a short ride into Georgetown on his Suzuki Intruder motorcycle just to walk around the colorful waterfront along the Intracoastal Waterway for a while. He liked to look at the quaint shops, and walked for a few blocks around through the attractive adjoining historic district and small park at the end of the row of shops and cafes lining the waterfront. By nine-thirty he rode back to the marina where he set up his bunk cot in the rear of the warehouse. He choose the cot nearest to the cargo mats where he’d wrestled with Mark and Mitch previously, and thought of it as his “lucky” bed.
He had only the illumination from the emergency exit light to see by, but it was enough. By ten he was in bed. It was still hot from the day and he slept naked, as he usually did in the summertime anyway. Falling asleep, his thoughts once again turned to Philippe and he wondered what the next day would hold for them.
He had hardly fallen asleep when he heard a sort of scratching or scraping noise. He knew it wouldn’t be any rats as they had been exterminated. Most likely it was either some mice, or maybe a raccoon which had come around the outside and was poking around somewhere under the building.
Next thing Greg knew was the feel of a strong, calloused and yet soft hand pressing lightly against his mouth. Then a grinning face appeared right behind it. The face was connected to a handsome dark head with clear white teeth and a powerfully muscular, lithe almost naked mahogany-shaded body which he already knew was attached to the head.
Greg was instantly awake and a broad grin came to his face.
Philippe had apparently left the ‘Trader Joe’ in the dark, made his way to the warehouse, entered it with a key Steve or Mark had no doubt given to him, and silently made his way through the darkness to the cot where Greg was sleeping. Then he covered Greg’s mouth so that he couldn’t say anything until he saw who it was.
Philippe then proceeded to pull him up out of bed, with which Greg had no problem at all following him. Philippe then led him over to the cargo mats, which made such good wrestling mats too. Philippe was wearing nothing but a small and tight bikini which was already bulging out with all of his big male equipment inside, and his body already had a light coating of wrestling oil. He had brought a small bottle of oil with him and had soon oiled Greg’s muscular and naked body as well. As he oiled Greg, he removed his own small bikini so that both of them would be naked.
On the mat in the darkness of the warehouse, Greg and Philippe quickly locked up together in their first wrestling hold with each other. It was what both knew they wanted with each other as soon as they saw the other in the hot and cramped engine room of the ‘Trader Joe’ that morning.
Philippe dropped to the mat first with Greg coming down on top of him to press down tightly on his back. It felt real good to both of them.
In the darkness, with only the dim exit light and the starlight coming in from the high windows of the warehouse, their muscular bodies glistening with the oil. They were ready for each other for whatever the outcome might be, just so long as it didn’t come too quickly. They liked what they were about to do with each other, and wanted to make it last as long as possible.
Even though Greg was on top of him, but now holding him more loosely, Philippe then rolled himself over underneath Greg so that his back was on the mat and he could face Greg still on top of him.
Then he reached up to get a headlock on Greg while at the same time he raised his powerful legs up and wrapped them around Greg’s body to get him in a solid body scissors. Greg, liking the feel of Philippe’s muscular legs wrapped around him and holding him tightly, and made little effort to resist Philippe’s move.
Instead, Greg reached down and grabbed both of Philippe’s big, muscular and well-defined pecs in his fists and began to squeeze them until Philippe’s muscled flesh was almost squeezed out between his fingers. It was a hold and punishment which Greg liked to take whenever another wrestler took the same hold on him, and he guessed, correctly, that Philippe liked it just as much.
As they both worked against each other, each could feel the other’s big, long and now hard cock press against the other’s body, eager to get into their match as well.
Greg then began to try to slip down and out of Philippe’s body scissors, which Philippe loosened just enough to let him do. After a moment or two, Greg’s head was the only part of his body still caught in Philippe’s scissors hold on him, which had become a head scissors.
Greg always liked to be caught in another wrestler’s head scissors, and to have Philippe’s muscular legs and thighs wrapped around his head pleasured him totally. Greg then turned his head around so that now it would be facing into Philippe’s naked crotch. Then he moved it in closer and closer into Philippe’s big, hard and thick cock and bulging balls.
Philippe, seeing that this was Greg’s intention, reached out and pulled the back of Greg’s head into his crotch even more until Greg’s face, nose and mouth were pressed so hard against Philippe’s big male equipment he could hardly breathe. Greg was willing to remain in that same predicament all night if he could, as was Philippe too when their positions were reversed later on in their long wrestling match with each other that night.
Philippe liked their position too, and then decided he’d roll both of them over so that now he was on top of Greg with his big muscled cock and balls still pressed hard against Greg’s face, but now Greg’s face was almost being crushed underneath Philippe’s muscled body as well.
Much as Greg liked to be caught in Philippe’s head scissors hold on him, with Philippe’s big cock and balls pressed tightly against his face to keep him in place, he nevertheless, with the slipperiness of their naked bodies, eventually managed to slip out of Philippe’s head scissors. And then, already being on top of Philippe, who had his back to the mat, came back down on Philippe in a full body press of his own.
Both of them liked their new position with each other too, but Philippe then once again rolled himself over underneath Greg until now he once again was facing the mat with Greg lying flat on his back in a new body press.
In their new position, Greg felt his long and hard rod try to stab deep down into the full and muscular canyon of Philippe’s muscled butt as if it might try to find a way in. But Philippe tightened his butt and wouldn’t let him enter. For a long minute, each enjoyed the pleasure of that new struggle with each other, one to get in and one to keep him out, just as much as they enjoyed it later on when their positions were reversed.
Meanwhile, Greg wrapped his arms around Philippe’s muscled chest, and again grabbed his pecs to tighten his hold and to squeeze them as well. He now knew Philippe liked the feel of that punishment to his body, as Greg very much did too. Then Greg rolled both of them over until now Greg was once again underneath Philippe, whom he now held tightly on top of him in his tight pec hold on Philippe’s upper body, while he now also wrapped his powerful legs and thighs around Philippe’s lower body to hold him at the other end too. It was another hold both liked very much, give or take, and neither wanted to escape it.
Then, with his lower body scissors on Philippe, Greg now crossed his ankles above Philippe’s naked and exposed crotch, and began to smash his heels down repeatedly into Philippe’s naked crotch and his exposed long, thick and hard cock and bulging balls to punish them as hard as he could.
As he did that, Greg heard Philippe say quietly, “More, more, give it to me as hard as you can!”
After what seemed like long minutes of just that punishment, Philippe began to make his escape from Greg’s body scissors just as Greg and done with Philippe’s earlier. In their oiled slipperiness, Philippe began to shift and slide down in Greg’s body scissors until only his head, as Greg’s was earlier, was caught between Greg’s thick and muscular thighs. Then, in the moments which followed, it was now Philippe whose face was being crushed and suffocated in the hot wetness of Greg’s crotch, with Greg’s own big and hard cock and thick balls pressed hard against Philippe’s face. It was a complete reversal from before, and neither could get enough of it either way.
Philippe eventually escaped, however, with Greg loosening his head scissors on him just enough so that he wouldn’t have to use up too much energy to do so.
Then, with the litheness of his powerful panther-like body, Philippe twisted around and now got a solid headlock on Greg, who was lying on the mat, which now positioned Philippe half on and half off of him to hold him in place.
Then, with the headlock secured firmly but not too tightly, he began to pull Greg’s head in toward his well-muscled chest. Soon he’d forced Greg’s face full up against his tight nipple and thick pec and began to stuff as much of it as he could into Greg’s open and waiting mouth. The more of his muscled pec Philippe stuffed into Greg’s mouth, the better Greg liked it.
Greg, however, knew how he could get back at Philippe too. Slowly he reached one of his muscular arms through Philippe’s big thighs from behind. Then he seized Philippe’s big, long and hard rod and thick balls in his fist, and began slowly to pull them back through Philippe’s legs until he threatened to almost rip them entirely off Philippe’s body.
In that new predicament and deadlock, both loved all the punishment they were giving and taking from the other, and neither wanted to be the first to let any of it go. Nor did they later in their long match in the quiet of the dark marina warehouse when their situation was reversed. Then it was Philippe who felt and tasted Greg’s big pec in his own mouth, while Greg was having the feel of his own big, long and hard cock and thick balls almost being pulled off his own body in return.
By now, with the many cock holds they had already been taking on each other, they knew that it was a punishment both liked in particular and were always ready for more. This time they found themselves on their knees facing each other, their foreheads almost touching.
With that, they then made the same move on each other. Each reached out his strong left arm to grab the back of the other’s neck to pull his head down to the mat. At the same time each reached out his strong right hand and seized the other’s big, long and hard cock which jutted straight out from the other’s body like a hammer handle, completely exposed to the other’s seizing of it and giving it whatever punishment would follow from that.
With their identical tight holds on each other’s cock, first each tried to pull the other’s cock toward him or then push it back into the other’s body. Then they tried to pull it down to the mat or then push it back through the other’s thick legs and thighs until they had almost torn it off the other’s body entirely.
Both, however, with all their agony, nevertheless liked the punishment they were giving and taking from the other. Neither wanted to be the first to give in, and both wanted more. As they were so evenly matched in size and weight, neither had any real advantage over the other, and it was only when, with the slipperiness of their oiled and naked bodies, they lost their grip on each other’s cock and finally broke their latest predicament.
As they broke their tight cock holds on the other, Philippe slipped on the oily mat and ended up on his back again. Now Greg got on top of him once more in another body press, this time head to toe. In the next moment Greg wrapped his muscular legs and thighs completely around Philippe’s head to get him in another tight head scissors, and now once again pressed his full hard and naked cock and balls, now wet with oil and sweat as well, hard against Philippe’s face to choke and smother him in the hold.
But before Greg could really complete his hold on Philippe, the lithe and powerful Philippe flipped his own powerful legs and thighs up and caught Greg’s head in an identical head scissors. Now he wrapped his own legs completely around Greg’s head, with his own big cock and balls pressed hard against Greg’s face to hold him the same way.
It was a perfect and solid double figure four head scissors they had on each other, with both liking the feel of the other wrestler’s legs and thighs wrapped around his head and with the other’s full cock and balls pressed hard against his face. Neither was in any hurry at all to break out of their new predicament.
Instead, they rolled back and forth, remaining locked tightly together in their full tight figure four head scissors on each other, to see how long they could make it last.
By now they had been wrestling with each other for almost an hour. Their naked and oiled hot muscled bodies glistened with sweat as well as they wrestled evenly back and forth with each other on the warehouse mat in the stillness of the night. Neither could get enough of any of it.
But in a new development, however, with their single and double figure four head scissors holds they were taking and holding on each other, more and more, instead of just pressing their big cocks and thick balls hard against the other’s face, they were now stabbing their long and hard cocks deep down into the other’s mouth and throat, almost choking him on it. This they both liked even more, both give and take.
But with the feel of the other’s big rods stuffed down their mouths more and more, and with all of their other cockfighting and other punishing holds they took on each other too, they knew they were becoming still more sexually aroused as well.
Soon they realized that all of the rich hot white and creamy cum which had been accumulating deep inside their bodies through all of their long match would demand to be released. And then only a few minutes after that, they both realized they now had only seconds left before all of their hot juice was about to burst out of their bodies whether they were ready for it or not.
One final time, they found themselves locked in a double figure four head scissors on each other. It was still the favorite hold and predicament of both of them, give and take.
This time Philippe was on top, with Greg underneath him. Neither had any problem with that. Nevertheless, Greg tried desperately to escape or roll both of them over one more time so that he might end up on top, much as he liked to be underneath too.
But Philippe held him down and in place. Suddenly, as they desperately still struggled with each other, both felt all of their rich hot white cum race through their bodies. Then, in a final spasm of their powerfully muscular bodies, each felt all of their own hot man-juice burst out of their bodies while in the same instant each felt and tasted all of the other’s sweet hot juice burst out and pulse and flood into his own mouth and down his own throat as well.
On and on their hot wet cums pulsed and flooded out until finally they had no more left. Both now felt themselves completely drained and exhausted.
They knew it had been real good.
Slowly they got up, Philippe first as he was on top, and then he pulled Greg up to his feet as well. Neither said anything, but the tight embrace of their oiled, wet, naked and muscular bodies when they were back on their feet told their full story.
Greg found a towel in the washroom and wiped Philippe off while he put his tight bikini and combat boots back on. In the next moment, Philippe stole silently out the warehouse door through which he’d entered, made his way through the darkness back to the ‘Trader Joe,’ and then he disappeared into his quarters below.
Greg meanwhile cleaned himself up at the same time, and soon found himself back in his cot as before. Looking over at the red numbers on the nearby clock, it was just midnight. They’d wrestled almost two full hours.
‘That sure was good,’ thought Greg. ‘And I sure do hope we can do it again some time.’ Then he fell into a real solid sleep for the rest of the night.
The next morning Greg woke up early and went to the nearby Café where Mark had an open account for a free Sunday breakfast for his employees. By seven-thirty he was back at the marina ready to go to work. Mark and Mitch came up at the same time, and Steve and Robbie were already on the ‘Trader Joe’ where they’d stayed on board overnight. Philippe was nowhere in sight, but Steve said he was in the hold setting up to load and secure the rest of the cargo.
Within just a few minutes they were back on their conveyor system, in reverse, loading cargo and finishing that job around ten. Greg went back into the hold where he could again work closely along side Philippe.
“I liked last night, Philippe,” said Greg.
“I too, mon,” replied Philippe. Neither said anything more about their wrestling match the previous night, but broad grins covered their faces as they looked at each other.
As the cargo was coming on board, Greg and Philippe just stacked it temporarily where Philippe would then stow and secure it carefully before they left port later that afternoon.
When all of the cargo and supplies had been boarded, Steve assigned Greg to paint all the various places on the hull and superstructure which had been primed earlier to finish that job. To Greg, it still looked like the boat had been the target of a rifle attack, or something pretty much like it, but he said nothing.
By noon all of their different jobs had been well completed, and Greg went back down into the cargo hold to help Philippe stow and secure the last of the new cargo. Soon even that was completed. It was then time for lunch and, just like the day before, they all gathered on the deck of the ‘Trader Joe’ except Philippe, who remained out of sight in the galley.
Greg still thought that odd. In addition, in the daylight he now had a better chance to see Philippe’s scars and apparent wounds. They now looked even more like knife cuts, although they were healing quickly and well, but as no one else mentioned it, he figured he still wouldn’t either.
The ‘Trader Joe’ was due to sail at four that afternoon, and, after lunch, Mark asked Greg to put just a few miscellaneous things away in the warehouse. However, he was to quit doing that at three, whether he was finished or not, as that was the usual time the marina closed on Sundays except for keeping the fuel service lines open for boats wanting to get refueled before heading on up or down the Intracoastal Waterway.
Mark said, “You’ll probably want to get washed up after all the heavy work you’ve been doing, and be on hand for when the ‘Trader Joe’ sails as you’ve had a real good hand in making that possible for Steve, Robbie and Philippe.
At three forty-five Greg, after washing up and changing into a clean new t-shirt, he came back to Mark’s office. He found, however, that he and Mitch had already gone up the staircase to the second floor rooftop deck of the building where there was sort of a viewing area, or what might be considered the bridge if it were a ship, for its broad view of the marina and the whole Intracoastal Waterway.
Mark and Mitch were there sitting in the chairs having a drink and invited Greg to join them. Greg was surprised to see that Mark was now in an open collar semi-dress shirt and was wearing a smart looking white officer’s summer coat jacket. There was an officer’s cap with gold braid on the chair next to him. Mitch was similarly well dressed, except for the white coat and cap. Fortunately Greg didn’t look too out of place in his own clean and tight-fitting t-shirt which looked good on his muscular build.
They talked leisurely while they watched one of the other marina men begin to loosen some of the lines to the ‘Trader Joe,’ while Robbie, on the boat, loosened other lines. Steve was on the bridge of the ‘Trader Joe’ in an open dress shirt and wearing a white jacket similar to Mark’s. He had a gold braided officer’s cap on his head.
It was just two minutes to four when all of the lines were cast off and the ‘Trader Joe’s’ side thrusters began to push it into the center of the Intracoastal Waterway channel. Then it began to pick up to a slow speed to head down the waterway past the marina on its way out to the open sea.
Just as the ship began to move away from the dock, Greg saw Philippe come out on to the bridge. He too was now dressed almost the same as Steve with a pale blue open shirt, a white officer’s jacket, but without a cap. While Steve carefully guided the boat and its movement, Philippe stood on the outside of the bridge to face Mark, Robbie and Greg. With his striking build and deep mahogany skin contrasting with his spotless white jacket and trousers, Philippe made a powerful impression on all of them.
As they were coming up to and about to pass the deck, Mark and Mitch, and then Greg too, stood up to watch them go by. As they passed, Mark put on his cap, came to attention, and saluted them smartly, as did Mitch and then Greg too. Philippe came to attention and returned their salute just as smartly in return. Steve, focused on guiding the ship safely through the waterway, waved quietly but movingly to them.
For long minutes the three of them then stood quietly watching the ‘Trader Joe’ sail down the Intracoastal Waterway until it turned to head out into the channel between the North and South islands, and was then lost to view.
The three then sat down again and Mark said quietly to no one in particular, “Bon Voyage, men, Godspeed and good luck to you.” Glancing at Mark, Greg saw Mark’s eyes water just a little.
For a few minutes, none of the three said anything. Then Mark said, “How are your glasses men, anybody need a refill?”
That sort of broke the tension of the last fifteen minutes or so with the departure of the ‘Trader Joe.’ As the three then had nothing else to do for the present, and it was still a warm sunny afternoon, neither Mark nor Mitch nor Greg made any move to leave the deck.
Greg then said, “Mark, I don’t want to get into something I shouldn’t, but can I ask you what the story is behind Philippe? He really seems to be an extraordinary guy and I suspect there’s a lot behind him.”
“You’re right, Greg, it’s an extraordinary story. And I hope we’re soon now coming to the end of it and that it all turns out well. I have a feeling now that it will.
Mark then told Greg all about Philippe, which filled Mitch in for some of it too. He already knew some of it, but not all of it.
Mark related the whole story to them. “The story begins, actually, many years ago with Philippe’s grandfather, Pierre DuBois, who was a slave over on the French island of Martinique, as it was at that time. Then he escaped with some other slaves and they fled in a small boat over the Caribbean sea, at the risk of their lives, to Jamaica.
“There they established a small colony of former slaves who were now free under Jamaican law. In the course of time Pierre managed to set up a small farm or plantation, and a small trading business as well, for himself, and he married a local Jamaican woman whose father had a similar small farm nearby.
“In the course of time they had three children, two of whom died early, but the third child, a son named Henri DuBois, grew up healthy, strong and very intelligent.
“Henri DuBois, over more than twenty years, assembled a huge tract of very fertile land and forests on the west coast of Jamaica, which soon became one of the biggest and richest plantation estates in all of the island country. Along with the plantations, he also developed an off-shore trading company to export both sugar and bananas, his main crops, and import the various goods and merchandise the Jamaicans needed to carry on their lives. Productive plantations and trading companies frequently went hand in hand for just that reason.
“Henri remained single into his forties while he was building his plantations and estate and trading businesses. Then, in his early forties, he married a fine young Jamaican girl, or young lady, by the name of Grace Hampton. Following their marriage, Henri named his entire plantation and estate “Hampton Hall,” by which name it is still known today.
“Grace’s father, Dr. Stuart Hampton, was a prominent native physician in the area. He and Henri knew each other well and collaborated on improving the lives of the native Jamaicans as well as making a considerable success of their own lives, knowing the two were actually very closely connected.
“Henri and Grace then had two fine sons, one of whom you have now met, Philippe, and seven years later, they had their second son, an equally fine young man, Marcel. Marcel is in Paris at present studying tropical medicine to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.
“Philippe’s father Henri died rather quickly about seven years ago when the horse he was riding was suddenly frightened, reared up, and Henri was thrown off suffering a broken neck. Henri was a very good rider, but it simply happened.
“Grace then took over the management of the plantations, trading business and estate, but it got to be just too much for her, and her health wasn’t the strongest in the first place.
“So she hired a manager or overseer by the name of Mulligan. He knew farming well, but was abusive and, as it turned out, under a civilized veneer was simply a bad character. He was in his forties, about five-nine and one-eighty, and strong and muscular, not unlike Philippe. At an earlier time he had been a former prizefighter, had a controlling and dominating nature, and was abusive to those who didn’t quickly see or do things his way.
“For a while, Grace was able to control him as she knew the plantations and estate exceedingly well and could keep him in line. But then, about two years ago, her health began to fail more sharply. Very soon after that, Mulligan took over more and more of the management of the plantations and estate until he pretty much controlled the whole thing. He was a help to Grace at first, but then, as her health declined and as he was of such a controlling nature, he began to exclude Grace from its operations and she didn’t have the health or strength any longer to cope with him.
“Then, about eight months ago, the estate accountants, with whom Grace still kept herself fully informed as to how the plantations and estates and trading businesses were going for their financial operations and results, informed Grace that it appeared, from initial reports, that Mulligan had, by then, embezzled something like over a million dollars from the estate accounts. And by then too, there were more reports of abuse of the farm hands and certain police investigations were begun.
“Unfortunately, about two months later, or six months ago, Grace passed away. That then left the plantations, estate and trading business without really competent management, with the thug and apparently criminal Mulligan now in full charge and control of it.
“At that point, Philippe was still in Paris soon to finish his engineering and tropical agricultural studies.
“He came home immediately, as did Marcel, for his mother’s funeral, and he spent some many hours with their long-time family friend and solicitor, or attorney, Charles Cambridge. Philippe was now twenty-six, Mulligan in his mid-forties, and Charles Cambridge seventy-three.
“Charles Cambridge not only knew Philippe and Marcel since they were born, but of course he knew Henri and Grace intimately, and even knew old Pierre before he passed away. As a result, Charles Cambridge knew as much about the DuBois family and Hampton Hall, and their plantations, estate and their trading business as any of them did.
“With the information and solid evidence he received from Charles Cambridge, and his own observation of what was going on at Hampton Hall and the estate, Philippe had what he felt was a serious conversation with Mulligan, who then expressed his remorse and promised to manage the estate better in the future, with Philippe keeping him on as overseer.
“Neither Philippe nor Cambridge really believed what Mulligan was saying about expressing his remorse, nor did Mulligan believe it himself. However, it was the only decision, they felt, they could make at the moment with Grace dead and Philippe and Marcel still in school in Paris.
“Then, about five weeks ago, the accountants determined that Mulligan indeed had definitely embezzled over a million dollars, and at the same time the police investigations showed that Mulligan had indeed been severely abusive to the field workers.
In addition, Charles Cambridge found that Mulligan had submitted a crude Will, supposedly just recently found and supposedly executed by Grace just shortly before she died, making Mulligan the sole beneficiary of Hampton Hall including all of its plantations, the estate and the trading business.
“Charles Cambridge, along with the probate judge of that district, quickly saw that the supposed Will Mulligan had filed was nothing more than a crude forgery, particularly as Cambridge himself had Grace’s real Will securely right in his own office safe. Grace’s real Will named Philippe and Marcel as the sole beneficiaries of all of Hampton Hall and all of its plantations, estate, trading company and all of the family’s other considerable assets.
“With this newest and verified information, Charles Cambridge notified Philippe of the whole story and urged him to come back to Jamaica immediately to take charge of the estate. Cambridge did suggest, however, that Philippe return very quietly and spend a few days first looking into everything himself, and reviewing all of the evidence against Mulligan with him, before he would confront Mulligan with it.
“Philippe agreed and he returned to Jamaica within twenty-four hours. He first went to visit and spend some time with Charles Cambridge for a full background report of all of the legal and financial aspects of the matter, and then spent three days quietly riding over the vast plantations to check on the conditions of the plantations and the many field and residence workers themselves.
“Mulligan, meanwhile, with two henchman he had hired to help him control the management of the plantations and estate, heard of Philippe’s presence back in Jamaica and both of them prepared themselves for the confrontation and showdown they knew was soon to come between them.
“That confrontation occurred three weeks ago on a late Saturday afternoon just at dusk at the main residence, Hampton Hall, itself.
“Philippe had intended to present all of the evidence they had to Mulligan and to terminate him immediately as overseer, and that he was to have nothing else to do with any part of the entire plantation, estate and trading business. Philippe was prepared to pay him a six-month severance pay even though the evidence clearly showed that Mulligan had already embezzled more than a million dollars.
“Mulligan, being the controlling and abusive person he was, and being the strong and muscular former prizefighter that he was, however, said he would not go along with any of it, and that it was Philippe who should leave the estate as everything was now his, Mulligan’s, as declared under the forged Will.
“Philippe called on Mulligan for their talk dressed in a Jamaican suit which happened to conceal his own powerful build from Mulligan, and which encouraged Mulligan to think he could easily, if he couldn’t persuade Philippe otherwise, fight and beat Philippe and still have things his own way. Philippe was not to be persuaded however, and, as a result, Mulligan attacked Philippe to beat him down and frighten him into submitting to his will.
“Unfortunately for Mulligan, he misjudged Philippe both physically and mentally by a very wide margin.
“They quickly threw off their clothes until they wore only their loin clothes. Both now saw the other’s powerful and muscular builds. Philippe was, as we know, very powerfully built and no doubt faster and perhaps slightly taller. But Mulligan was just as powerfully built, a little shorter perhaps but no less muscular, and had the experience of being a former prizefighter as well.
“It was an epic battle as they fought and wrestled each other on the lawn of Hampton Hall in the dusk of that Jamaican evening. No part of either wrestler’s body was spared the blows of the other. As they fought, three of the household servants came out to watch the fight, as did two of the farm hands. All of them offered to intervene on behalf of Philippe. At the same time, both of Mulligan’s henchmen came up and offered to help him. All of them were told by Philippe and Mulligan to stay out of it.
“Mulligan was probably the better and stronger fighter, but Philippe the better wrestler and faster with his reflexes. The fight went on, back and forth, for more than half an hour as they struggled with each other.
“The stakes were enormous. For Mulligan, it was for possible control of all of the Hampton Hall plantations and estate and trading business. Even if he could not attain full ownership, he thought his forged Will might still be validated by the court, or at least he could continue as overseer and embezzle possibly millions more if Philippe gave up and left the management of the vast estate to him.
“For Philippe, on the other hand, it was to wrest control of his family’s plantations and estate and trading business back into the family, resume full ownership and control of all of it, and banish Mulligan to a long time in jail or exile from Jamaica entirely.
“After the half hour of fighting back and forth indecisively, Mulligan began to weaken and Philippe began to gain the upper hand. Mulligan, realizing his situation was worsening, signaled one of his henchmen to slip him his hunting knife so that he could finally dispatch Philippe for once and for all.
“Mulligan then seized the knife and proceeded to slash Philippe in three or four places, as Greg had seen by the scars on that powerful and beautiful body of his. Fortunately, although the wounds were serious, they were not fatal.
“But they did have the effect of now escalating the fight by making it a blood fight to the death instead of just control.
“Within the next few minutes, it was all over. In their desperate struggle with each other, Philippe managed to wrest the knife from out of Mulligan’s hand. And then, with Mulligan on his back on the grass of the front lawn and Philippe on top of him, Philippe stabbed him right down into his throat clear through to his spine.
“That was the end of Mulligan.
“With that, however, Mulligan’s two henchmen then tried to jump on Philippe to beat and do away with him too.
“Philippe, however, by now tired and bleeding and not then sure just what to do, decided to flee and in any event get away from the two henchmen who he knew he could not fight successfully too after fighting Mulligan to the death. Instead, he knew he needed to get away which would give him time to think and decide what to do next. He knew he had killed Mulligan, and even though it was done in self-defense, he had nevertheless committed a murder.
“Philippe fled into the jungle between the main Hampton Hall residence and the Caribbean sea. Both Philippe and the henchmen knew a boat was to stop at the Hampton Hall trading company dock on the seafront in a couple of days, and all three headed in that direction. Philippe knew the jungle and surrounding area far better than the two henchmen did, so he made his way undetected down to the water and hid himself in the woods near the dock while the henchmen stationed themselves in the nearby warehouses, both awaiting the arrival of the boat.
“Philippe’s intention was to swim out and escape to the boat and then at least temporarily leave the island. It was the henchmen’s intent to kill him before he could reach the boat, and then fire at the boat to scare it off as well. The boat, of course, was the ‘Trader Joe’ with Steve and Robbie on board.
“As Steve and Robbie slowly approached the dock, they were very much on their guard, having heard what had happened. With Mulligan’s death and the pursuit of the henchmen after Philippe, the servants had called the police immediately, who just as quickly informed Charles Cambridge as well. Then all of them went out to Hampton Hall immediately to begin to find out what had happened and to take the testimony of the servants who had seen the whole thing.
“Charles Cambridge, as events were proceeding, had kept in constant touch by radio with the ‘Trader Joe’ and updated Steve and Robbie on the entire matter as it unfolded.
“As the ‘Trader Joe’ came in to tie up at the dock, the quiet Jamaican air was suddenly shattered by the gunfire from the high powered rifles of the henchman who began to fire at the ‘Trader Joe’ and at Steve in the wheelhouse. He immediately picked up the high powered Benelli .30-06 rifle he kept in the wheelhouse for emergencies while Robbie picked up another similar rifle which they kept in the small office of the ship, and they both began to return the fire.
“It was an uneven gun battle, however, as the henchmen were well concealed behind the warehouses on land, while the boat was fully exposed in front of them close to the dock even though they had not yet tied up to it.
“Whenever the henchmen fired, Steve and Robbie could get only a quick glimpse of them, but they were never fast enough, or accurate enough, to hit them.
“Suddenly Steve, who had been focusing all of attention on the henchmen firing at them, became aware of a tall, powerfully built and lithe figure next to him, also wielding another high powered rifle.
“Philippe had been hiding in the jungle about a hundred yards away, and while the henchmen and Steve and Robbie were firing at each other, Philippe had quietly, powerfully and rapidly swum naked out to the ‘Trader Joe.’ He boarded it quietly on the opposite side of the boat from the gunfire. Then he had raced into the ship’s office to get the other high powered rifle he knew was there, and then he leaped up to the bridge to
join him there.
“Philippe had always been an excellent marksman. His second shot killed one of the henchmen, and apparently, by the trail of blood he left, his third shot hit the other. Later, it was presumed the second henchman had fled to a small sailboat tied up at another small dock of the estate and has not been heard of since.
“The exchange of gunfire and the bullets hitting the ‘Trader Joe’ accounted for the various hits and dents, as well as the broken glass and damaged radio and radar equipment in the wheel house. As soon as the firing stopped, with Philippe now on board, and not knowing who else might be with the henchmen, Steve ran the engines up to their maximum tach to get away as quickly as possible. This accounted for the damage in the engine room, which was what we repaired and replaced back here at the marina these past two days.
“Meanwhile, on board, Steve and Robbie took care of and dressed Philippe’s wounds as best they could, which was sufficient to bring him back together and in one piece. It’s been about two weeks between the fight between Philippe and Mulligan and the gunfight at the dock, and the ‘Trader Joe’ getting back here to Georgetown. During the trip, Philippe not only began to heal as his very healthy body might be expected to, but he also helped to repair the engine and the wheelhouse equipment just enough to make their return trip here to Georgetown possible.
“As Philippe had boarded the ‘Trader Joe’ naked, he of course didn’t have any ID or passport or papers with him. And, with the uncertainty of the outcome of the epic Hampton Hall fight, Mulligan’s death and then the subsequent gunfight at the Hampton Hall docks with the henchmen, Charles Cambridge’s advice by radio, with which Steve very much agreed, was that Philippe should keep entirely out of sight in Georgetown. That would be particularly good in case anyone were to notice the damage to the boat from the gunfire hits and begin to ask questions about that too.
“During the course of the run of the ‘Trader Joe’ from Jamaica to Georgetown, Charles Cambridge has kept Steve and Philippe, as well as myself back here in Georgetown, constantly posted as to how the investigations and police reports on the whole thing have been going.
“So far, all the police reports show that Mulligan’s death was justified as he both started the fight and then also started to use the knife. Philippe was acting only in self-defense. It is still a matter for the judge to rule on, but, in Cambridge’s preliminary conversations with the judge, his approval can be counted on.
“The accountants in the meantime have definitely found that indeed, something over one and a quarter million dollars had been embezzled by Mulligan, but so far no trace of it has been found, although they are still working on that.
“And Charles Cambridge has now filed Grace’s true Will, which is in the process of being reviewed and accepted by the Probate Court, with no complications seen on that.
“That would then exonerate Philippe from all prosecution of any sort and clear him entirely from Mulligan‘s death and the following gun fire at the dock. And so, from that, he and his brother Marcel are now clear to inherit the entire vast estate, plantations, trading business and all the rest of the estate as well.”
“Now what do you think about all that, Greg?” asked Mark with a smile on his face.
He was met by stunned silence from both Greg and Mitch as they tried to understand and absorb the impact of the whole story and its many details and ramifications.
Finally Greg found his voice and said, “Gawd, Mark, but, sort of on the side maybe, how come you know so much of all that’s been going on and so many of the details, and going so far back?”
“You recall I mentioned about Grace’s father, Dr. Hampton, being the main physician and who developed the clinic for all of the natives in that whole area?” Mark quietly replied
“At the time he set up the clinic, Dr. Hampton of course knew Henri DuBois well, with his daughter marrying Henri, with the doctor treating many of the plantation and other workers of the whole Hampton Hall operation, and with Henri DuBois financing just about the whole clinic.
“My aunt Gladys, from right here in Georgetown, a nurse and very fine lady, was inspired by the efforts of Dr. Hampton and went to Jamaica to help him with his work.
“While she was there, she of course met Charles Cambridge. They fell in love with each other and went on to get married. She lives there with him still today. He is, in fact, my uncle.
“They didn’t have any children of their own, and of course they knew both Henri and Grace DuBois, and were close to the boys as well. After Henri and Grace died, they have considered Philippe and Marcel as their own boys and as the boys’ second parents.
Over these past years, months and days, Uncle Charles has kept me fully posted as he has Steve, and I’ve tried and been able to help out from here as best I can.
Over the years I’ve visited Jamaica from time to time to visit with Uncle Charles and Aunt Gladys and, through them, also got to know Henri and Grace, as well as Philippe and Marcel, well.
“Just as do Uncle Charles and Aunt Gladys, I feel like Philippe and Marcel are my own boys too, along with Mitch here too, of course.” As he said it, he reached over to give an affectionate squeeze to the back of Mitch’s neck, which was met with a wide smile on Mitch’s face as he looked back at his father.
“As for Steve, he’s always known both Henri and Grace and the boys even better than I. In fact, it was Philippe’s father, Henri, who set Steve up originally when he was a young man just getting started by lending him the money for his first inter-island boat. Steve then went on to serve the trading interests of Henri’s trading firm all the following years as he does even now. In doing so, he not only got to know Henri and Grace well, but has known Philippe and Marcel ever since they were children. He too has an affection for Philippe and Marcel as warm as my own.
“So, as you see, although Philippe and Marcel’s parents, Henri and Grace, are dead, the boys are by no means orphans. In fact, they have more “parents” than just anybody else I know, and all of us are devoted to them.
“I just heard from Charles Cambridge this morning that the final police reports have now been completed and filed closing that whole violent chapter, and Grace’s Will has been received and approved by the Court.
“So, as soon as Philippe and Steve arrive back in Jamaica, Philippe will be in place to take over and head the vast Hampton Hall plantations, estate and trading business, while Marcel has said he would like to continue in Paris to complete his medical studies before returning to Jamaica where he is looking forward to continuing the medical work begun by his grandfather, Dr. Hampton.”
As Greg rode his Suzuki Intruder 1400 cruiser motorcycle back up to Andrews later that evening his mind was quiet. The whole weekend had given him a lot to think about. He knew one thing, however. For his next vacation, he was going to fly to Jamaica. That was for sure. A broad grin covered his face as he thought it.