Brazilian Cattle Baron (Siren Publishing Ménage and More ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  “Do so, Joaquin, please.” Sebastien ran to the study, where the phone on the desk had a blinking light. He snatched up the receiver. “Hello? Paolo? Is it really you?”

  “Ciao, Sebastien.”

  “Paolo! It’s so good to hear your voice!”

  “And for me to hear yours. I’m surprised to find you still here, in fact. I would’ve thought you have had enough of our primitive country life by now, and had fled back to the comfort of the United States,” Paolo teased.

  Sebastien laughed. “Hardly! I’ve already become a real Brazilian,” he bragged. “I’m perfectly at home here.”

  “Do you really like it? Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Paolo, I love it here.”

  “Splendid. Now, listen. I am on my way back to Belém. I shall take the cattle boat, again. I am used to it. I could make a detour on my way, to catch it at the landing at Saõ Martinho and visit you, if you like.”

  “If I like! You absolutely must come. I insist on it.”

  “It will mean that you may have to put me up, overnight.”

  “Overnight? You’re going to have to stay much longer than that. A real visit, a week, two weeks…a month.”

  “Sebastien, you forget that my family is waiting for me, in Manaós. They haven’t seen me for nearly a month.”

  “I had forgotten. I’m sorry. Can you really stay for only one night?”

  “Well, the boat sails when I say it sails. Perhaps I could manage a day or two, three at the most, if you insist…and if you’re sure it is no inconvenience?”

  “Paolo, I have an entire wing of guest rooms already made up and waiting for you. You can sleep in a different room every night while you’re here, if you want.”

  Paolo chuckled. “I had rather hoped…I would not be sleeping alone. In whatever room I happen to find myself in.”

  “Oh, now I’m really starting to get excited. How soon can you be here?”

  “Tomorrow, late in the morning. There will be three of us—me, Guglielmo, and one of the men from my fazenda. He will drive us…and then take the car back, after Guglielmo and I board the boat.”

  “Oh, good. You should get here in time for lunch.”

  They finalized their arrangements, and Sebastien hung up. He immediately found himself in a fever of anticipation, and went in search of senhora Beatriz, Ignacia, and Estevao, to give them their various orders in preparation for the guests’ arrival.

  Paolo did indeed arrive the next day in time for lunch. Sebastien was mildly surprised when Paolo’s two companions declined his invitation to join them in the dining room. They preferred to eat with the household staff, in the kitchen.

  “Never mind,” Paolo told Sebastien, with a laugh, as they seated themselves and began their meal. “I’ve found that servants invariably prefer to socialize with one another. The gossip tends to be better in the kitchen, you see. Right now, that man of yours—did you say his name is Estevao?—and my Guglielmo are no doubt already comparing notes, discussing us and all of our foibles.”

  “Tell me about Guglielmo. Did you hire him because he’s an Italian-Brazilian?”

  “Of course. I have to have someone I can speak Italian with. Guglielmo and I can talk freely, without other people knowing what we are saying.”

  “He’s unmarried, I assume?”

  “Yes. And, to anticipate your next question, he is bisexual, with a definite preference for women. To anticipate your third question, my dear Sebastien—Guglielmo and I have occasionally amused ourselves together. It is a sensible arrangement.”

  “I’m sure it is. But ‘arrangements’—I should think you might want more than mere arrangements. What would you do, Paolo, if you ever fell in love with another man?”

  “But I wouldn’t. I am in love with my wife. I would never let my feelings for a man jeopardize my marriage. The proof of that, after all, is very near to hand. Namely, you. I met you, Sebastien, and my head was almost turned, but not quite.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “How typical it is of you to say that. In the short time we’ve known each other, carissimo mio Sebastien, I have already noticed—” Paolo hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I have noticed, forgive me, that you underestimate yourself. Your appeal. You lack self-confidence, to some extent. You have a slang expression in English—‘bringing something to the table.’ You seem to think, Sebastien, that if it were not for your money, you would have nothing to bring to the table. How very wrong you are.”

  “It’s nice of you to say so, Paolo. Now I’m more glad than ever that you came here. It’s pleasant to have a handsome man around, to pay me compliments.”

  “But I see that you have a whole stable of beautiful, desirable men here on your property, all at your beck and call.”

  “They’re not all at my beck and call—not in the way you mean, that is.”

  “Ah, but some of them are, are they not? Come now. Tell me what you have been up to, since you arrived here and took possession of your inheritance. After all, as we both know, there are other affairs besides the managing of cattle ranches!”

  Their conversation soon took on a more intimate, and decidedly sexually explicit, tone. It wasn’t long before Sebastien decided that both he and his guest needed a brief post-lunch siesta. They retired to Sebastien’s bedroom, taking care to place the Do Not Disturb signs on the doors.

  “How I’ve missed you,” Sebastien confessed as they got undressed.

  “And I you,” Paolo said in a thick voice, reaching down and manipulating his friend’s warm, stiffening cock between his experienced fingers.

  Sebastien turned his head and smiled, gazing deeply into Paolo’s lust-brightened eyes. He rolled over on his side of the bed and inched closer to Paolo, until their stiff pricks touched and crossed.

  “Doesn’t that feel good?” Sebastien whispered in a hoarse voice against Paolo’s right ear.

  “Everything about you feels good,” Paolo whispered back, arching his back and pressing his cock harder against Sebastien’s body. They rocked their hips back and forth. Sebastien’s cockhead bumped against the crease that ran between Paolo’s right leg and groin. Soon it was sliding on its own layer of pre-cum oozing from its piss slit. Sebastien moved his head forward and glued his lips to Paolo’s, spearing his tongue into the blond’s mouth, while he reached around and cupped Paolo’s small, rounded ass cheeks in his big hands, the fingers of which were newly calloused from the unaccustomed manual labor he had begun to do around the fazenda.

  After several minutes of intense, exhilarating kissing, he pulled his mouth away from Paolo’s and eagerly lowered his head to the other man’s groin. He took Paolo’s cock in his hand and held it close to his face, savoring its heft in his hand. He remembered, in a vivid flashback, the last time that male tool had filled his mouth—and his ass.

  “Hey, are you going to stare at it, or suck it?” Paolo asked him, humorously.

  Sebastien shook himself back to the present and saw Paolo’s cock lying throbbing and eager below his hungry lips.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Sebastien said, bending down lower and opening his lips. He stuck out his tongue and ran its pointed wet tip along the cock’s underside. The married man moaned, pulling up his knees and exposing his asshole. Sebastien stimulated that prick more and more with his mouth and tongue. “Worry about yourself,” he mumbled as he used his mouth on the turgid manhood. “Now that I’ve got you here, I intend to take unfair advantage of you.”

  And that was exactly what he did, not only that afternoon, but that night. The bed in the guest room set aside for Paolo remained unslept in. Guglielmo made a point of going in there and mussing the bedclothes every morning, so the maids would not be scandalized.

  The two men spent so much time together that Sebastien felt obliged to apologize to Uver, when he happened to meet the dusky-skinned ranch hand near one of the corrals.

  “I hope you don’t feel I’ve been neglecting you, Uver,
since senhor Brescanti arrived.”

  “Of course not, senhor,” Uver said, easily. “Although I do admit I miss our…chess games. And the forfeits that go with them.” He smiled impishly.

  “I miss them, too. We’ll have to schedule one, a real tournament, once senhor Brescanti leaves.”

  “I shall look forward to it.”

  “In the meanwhile, I’m glad you aren’t jealous of Paolo, Uver.”

  “Jealousy is not in my nature, mestre. It only makes things awkward between men—and it is unnecessary, among sensible men,” Uver declared. “It’s only natural that you wish to spend time with your friend. Tell me, does senhor Brescanti play chess?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him. I doubt, though, that he’s as good a player as you.”

  Uver laughed, displaying his white teeth. No one was nearby, so Sebastien gave him a quick hug and kiss before they parted.

  Paolo, Sebastien subsequently found out, was no chess player. But he had other talents, as his host already well knew.

  Sebastien tried to persuade Paolo to prolong his stay past the three days they’d agreed to, but it was impractical. Paolo had already arranged to meet the boat, on its way upriver, at a certain day and time. So Sebastien made the most of the limited time he and Paolo had, making love to the married man at every opportunity. In between their fiercely physical sex sessions, he did get around to giving his guest a tour of the fazenda, in installments.

  He tore himself away from his lover during their first full day together only long enough to take care of essential business, including going into the study to monitor the ranch’s accounts. While he was at it, Sebastien called up some of his bank records, noting with satisfaction the steady accumulation of interest.

  Ever since his arrival, Sebastien had maintained regular e-mail contact with his financial advisor in New York, forwarding to him a good deal of information drawn from the fazenda’s accounts. Now, seated at the desk and sipping his cafézinho, he typed out and sent a message which he had been composing in his head for some time.

  I’ve decided it would be foolish even to think of selling this property at the present time, or for the foreseeable future. I’m increasingly attracted to the idea of thinking of this place as a second home—A vacation home, if you will, although admittedly one on a very large scale. Do you think there would be any difficulties— financially speaking—in my continuing to maintain the condo in New York as my primary residence, while coming down here two or three times a year, staying for periods of one or two months at time? Also, what would be the legal and financial implications if at some later date I chose to reside in Brazil for a total of at least six months out of a calendar year?

  As far as Sebastien was concerned, Paolo’s visit was an—almost—unmitigated success. Sebastien discovered that he enjoyed playing the role of host—and so, in fact, did Estevao, who took both Guglielmo and Paolo’s driver under his wing, befriending them and making them feel at home. Paolo, as Sebastien had anticipated, was perfectly at home on horseback. They spent hours together in the saddle, as Sebastien showed Paolo all around the fazenda, making no attempt to hide his pride in the operation, and basking in Paolo’s approval when his friend complimented him on how well run the ranch obviously was.

  Sebastien encouraged his triumvirate of Anibal, Joaquin, and Cristiano to join him and Paolo for lunch and dinner whenever they were free. In the evenings, after these informal dinner parties, the men usually retired to the game room, to play billiards or cards, and engage in further discussions, invariably centered on the topic of cattle ranching.

  The one fly in the ointment was that, for some reason, Cristiano did not seem to warm to Paolo. Paolo was polite and made friendly overtures toward Cristiano, making a point always to include him in the conversation and soliciting his opinions, but Cristiano, in all of his interactions with the other ranch owner, maintained a reserve that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.

  Baffled by Cristiano’s behavior, Sebastien went so far as to take Paolo aside, one evening before dinner, and apologize to him.

  “Cristiano is usually much more friendly,” he said. “It’s odd…he must have something on his mind, something that’s bothering him. You mustn’t take it personally, Paolo.”

  “Oh, I don’t,” his friend assured him.

  “I’m disappointed, though, because I had taken for granted that you and Cristiano would become friends.”

  “He’s younger than either of us,” Paolo pointed out. “Men his age—they have not always left the volatile emotions of adolescence entirely behind them. Give him time. You like him a lot, don’t you, Sebastien?”

  “I’ve already become very fond of him.”

  “As he has of you. That much, I can tell, even on so short an acquaintance.” Paolo hesitated. “Really, Sebastien. Can’t you see that Cristiano resents me being here…because he knows perfectly well that you and I have been intimate, and he is jealous, because he is in love with you?”

  “Cristiano Lapuente, in love with me? Nonsense. He may have a harmless little ‘man crush’ on me—that’s all. I’ve already learned that the mere fact of being the mestre of a fazenda gives one a certain exaggerated aura of importance, in the ranch hands’ eyes. Cristiano probably felt the same way about my uncle, and he’d feel the same way toward any man who happened to be in charge here.”

  Paolo smiled. “Well, you and the handsome Cristiano will have to work that out between yourselves, in the fullness of time. Right now, at the moment, there is at least one other man who is infatuated with you—besides me. Namely, Estevao.”

  “Estevao also has a harmless little crush on me, I suppose. The difference is that he doesn’t hesitate to act on his impulses. That boy has very few inhibitions—which I like in a man.”

  “So do I. I find your Estevao very appealing. Do you think there is any possibility?”

  “That he is attracted to you, Paolo? Oh, I should think there is a very strong such possibility.”

  “And do you also believe he would be willing to act on that impulse?”

  “Willing, ready, and able. Would you be interested in a threesome? I know I’d be.”

  “You’re getting me very excited, Sebastien. As usual.”

  “I’ll ask Estevao about it. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to amuse himself with us, later on tonight.” A thought occurred to Sebastien. “Shall we invite Guglielmo, to make it a foursome?”

  “I think not. Let him get his rest. Oddly enough, Guglielmo prefers his pleasures, whether with men or women, to be one-on-one. He can be very old-fashioned and conservative in that respect. I do keep working on him, trying to set an example with my own misbehavior, but so far to no avail.”

  By now, Sebastien knew Estevao well enough to feel comfortable speaking to the valet quite openly.

  “I’ve tried to persuade senhor Brescanti to stay with us for another day or two, Estevao, but he really must get home to Manaós. Since he wants to leave in the morning, I’d like to do everything I can to make this last evening special.”

  “Naturally, senhor. Ignacia has already promised to outdo herself tonight, and give you and the senhor an especially fine dinner.”

  “I’m sure she will. But that’s not quite what I meant. I was thinking of the after-dinner entertainment. Senhor Brescanti thinks you are very attractive, Estevao.”

  “Does he?” Estevao was already preening a bit, at this compliment.

  “Oh yes, he has told me so. And what do you think of him?”

  “He is an extraordinarily handsome man. Very sexy, if I may say so, without offense.”

  “Would you like to spend some time with me and Paolo tonight? In private, just the three of us?”

  Estevao didn’t seem to need to give the matter more than a split-second’s thought. “I would be delighted, mestre.”

  “Excellent. I’m sure that, between the two of us, we will give our guest a night to remember, and send him off in style.”

 
After dinner that evening, Sebastien entertained Joaquin, Cristiano, and Anibal, as usual. Once they had left the house, though, Sebastien, Paolo, and Estevao retired to the master bedroom—with a haste that might have been considered rather unseemly. Sebastien wasted no time in giving his valet his instructions.

  “Tonight, Estevao, I would like you to try to forget that I’m your employer, and that Paolo is our guest. Treat us the same way you treat any of the other men you amuse yourself with. I want us to be equals, just three horny men enjoying one another.”

  “All right,” Estevao said with a shy smile.

  “Shall we get down to work, then?” Paolo said, before his sensual mouth curved in a smile of invitation.

  Sebastien turned and grinned back at his friend, then moved his head around to look at Estevao. The young Brazilian had begun stripping, unbuttoning his shirt and revealing his bare, dark brown and smooth chest. The inevitable crucifix, hung from a silver chain around his sturdy neck, dangled inches above the sunken pit of his navel. Sebastien felt his cock growing thick and swollen. It felt like a sausage ready to burst its skin. His asshole felt tight and constricted. His mouth watered for a taste of that young cowboy’s cock, the hunger in his crotch growing more urgent, as Estevao shrugged off his khaki shirt, then sat down on the edge of the bed and began to pull off his boots.

  At the same time, Paolo reached down and pulled off his own shirt, exposing that familiar golden-tanned, smooth skin of his. Sebastien saw Estevao raise his head and stare hotly at Paolo. Blonds were undoubtedly a relative novelty here on Marajó, where nearly all the inhabitants were swarthy to a greater or a lesser degree, and brown- or black-haired. Estevao fixed his eyes on Paolo’s fly as the young married man pulled down the zipper tab, then peeled his tight trousers in two and pushed them down to the floor. Something hard, hot, and heavy jiggled promisingly behind Paolo’s standard-issue bikini briefs.

  “We will have a good time, the three of us,” Estevao promised, turning around and smiling at Sebastien. He finished sliding off his boots and socks, then stood up again and unzipped his trousers. Unlike the other two men, Estevao wore no underwear. As soon as his pants opened, his ten-inch, dark-brown sausage poked out from between the silvery zipper teeth of his gaping fly, hanging at a sharp angle from its fat, hairy cockroot. When he pushed his trousers down to the floor, he looked at his two partners. His eyes burned like smoldering coals. He seemed to be having difficulty making up his mind which he preferred, which man he was going to try out first. Sebastien suspected that Estevao’s obvious preference was for Paolo—blonds did have more fun in South America. But the master of the fazenda also knew from their past experiences together that his employee was attracted to his own hairy chest and rough masculinity. It would be a difficult decision to make. Happily, there was no need to choose. Estevao could help himself tonight, to both of the other studs, at will.