Brothers in Trouble

"Let me see," said Marcy.

Glancing at the mirror, he saw his brother's head rise, looking down. And then a grunt.

"Oh, cool," said Marcy, turning around and smiling at Nigel.

"Take my hand," said Nigel. "Show me what you need."

Her hand held his, fingers over fingers. Pushing him in and out of her. Rubbing higher. Her hips moved against the thrusts. Letting go, her hand joined her other pulling on her nipples. Nigel wanted to watch it all, but could only do glances. The longest one he dared when she came.

"Thank you," she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Her hand felt the erection at his crotch. "Do you want me to...?"

"Yes, but unsafe," he managed to say.

"Oh well," she responded, leaning down to kiss his lump, then pulling her clothes back together. She giggled.

"What?" Nigel asked.

"You worried about the custom people smelling pot. Now they''ll just smell sex!"

"Speaking of which, we shouldn't be crossing carrying contraband."

"I don't want to toss it," Connie whined.

"Not necessary. I need to stop at my place to grab my passport."

"You're not going to talk us into staying, Nigel," said Reggie.

"Didn't cross my mind."

"Right."

"How far away is your place?" Marcy asked.

"Maybe half an hour?"

"Not too bad," she grinned. And winked.

The smell of sex was replaced by the smell of marijuana. "Want some, Marcy?" Connie asked.

"Sure."

She grabbed the one hitter and a bic lighter from the back seat.

"Oh well," Nigel muttered.

"Maybe park somewhere discrete little brother," Reggie chuckled.

As it turned out, Nigel could only park at his assigned spot in the tall apartment building. But SUV's on both sides did the job.

"Be right back," he said.

"Take your time," said Connie, opening her dress to show him her ripe plums.

"Right," Nigel said.

On the trip up to his condo, near the top of the building, with the elevator shared only by Marcy, they finally kissed. He pulled her against him and lowered so that their genitals could press and rub.

Once inside the one bedroom apartment, Marcy commented, "This is really nice."

"I keep things neat," he shrugged.

"That too," she chuckled. "But the view."

"Yeah. It is."

The apartment faced the ocean which could be clearly seen.

Marcy followed Nigel into the bedroom, his bed neatly made. "You are neat."

"I'm a bit obsessive," he admitted, putting the baggy with pot and the one hitter in his bedside drawer and grabbing a condom. Turning, he saw that she'd stripped. Revealing voluptuous feminine perfection. A slight outward curving of her tummy just made her look that much more feminine. And her tan accentuated the sexual places. Pale breasts. Pale where a fringe of blonde hair topped her pussy, which gaped slightly, beckoning exploration.

She knelt and released his cock, bouncing out. "Nice," she said, stroking his seven plus inches before grazing the circumcised head with her tongue, tasting precum already oozing out.

"Marcy," he moaned. "I want to taste you." Her mouth enclosed his glans. "Marcy."

"I don't really need it."

"But it's one of my favorite things. And if you keep doing that..."

"Okay," she grinned up at him, gave the head a kiss, and moved onto the bed, her legs open, knees pointing to the ceiling.

He stripped naked. "Nice," she said.

"You too," he smiled and brought his mouth between her thighs. Hints of sweat and urine, but mostly the subtle complexity of her juices. Both scent and taste, sweet and musky, neither were overpowering and yet somehow further stimulating what the visuals had already wrought. Tongue, lips and finally fingers brought more of it to enjoy. Working her carefully. Finding out her sensitivity. She preferred teasing around her clit, with the occasional direct contact shocking her. And adding her nipples. Discovering she enjoyed a bit of friction. More when she began to undulate. More everywhere, including his rubbing her g spot. Her hands showed him she wanted more. Pressing his fingers harder on her nipples. Working the other one. And adding fingers where his tongue caressed her clit. Licking between the fingers. The last thing she needed to climax.

He moved back then. Rolling on the condom. Then forward over her. Lips nipping at one nipple and then the other. While she reached down and guided him in. Even through the latex, he could feel her pulsations. The remainders of her orgasm. And her pussy hugged against his cock. Being on the thick side, it wasn't unusual, but always a wonderful surprise.

Pushing ever slowly deeper. Grazing her cervix at the end. Perfect. For her too.

She clutched his ass. Pulling. Pushing. Guiding him to fuck faster. Harder. A speed he couldn't sustain. Not without cumming. "Go ahead," she moaned when he tried to slow down. "Cum for me."

He quickened his thrusts. He nibbled her nipples. His hand reached down to rub her. He wanted her to cum too.

When he couldn't hold back, he kept fucking her. Bringing her over. Stopping only then. She pulled his head higher with her hands. Lips touched lips while they both breathed ecstatically. Finally pressing together. Calming, yet still feeling the pulses of their ecstasy. The kiss continuing. Tongues meeting. Her legs embraced him. Keeping him as close to her as possible. When the kiss broke and her embrace relaxed, he asked, "Shower?"

"Okay," she grinned.

His hand went low, finding the back edges of the condom. Holding it onto his deflating cock, he pulled out. A convenient tissue box gave him something to envelope the loose bit of latex.

"Hand cream and porno too?" she giggled.

"Of course. This is a bachelor pad after all."

"Let me use the toilet first."

"Okay."

He enjoyed watching her bounce out of bed and walk out of the room

When he heard the shower, he joined her there. "I'm going to piss and flush, so watch the water," he told her.

"Ready," she said.

Washing his hands, carefully, as was his way, he finally joined her.

"You are a bit obsessive compulsive," she said.

He shrugged, grabbed the washcloth and liquid soap and washed her, enjoying every moment.

"My turn," she giggled minutes later, enjoying it as much as him. Just like he had done with her breasts and ass, she spent more time than necessary cleaning his cock and balls. She knelt and sucked the result, proving herself to be quite adept at fellatio.

"You're good," he moaned.

"You were too," she smiled up at him before returning to her task and completing it. Swallowing. Shower water cleansed her palate before they kissed.

She brought up a change of clothes. A t-shirt and jeans that clung to her most becomingly. He dressed similarly, and with her reaction, with similar results. One last hug and kiss and grabbing a light linen sports jacket to hold his passport, they were ready.

"You going to leave the bed messy?" she teased.

He shrugged. "We should go."

The car again smelled of sex. Reggie and Connie had changed similar to Nigel and Marcy and were sitting close in the back seat, smiling at them.

"Have fun?" Reggie asked.

"Yep. You?"

"Yep."

"I'm starved," said Connie.

"In and Out Burger?"

"Sure."

"That should disguise the smell even more," Marcy giggled.

"That was easy," said Nigel when they passed through the border check.

"I imagine it's easier going into Mexico," said Reggie.

"When I was younger, the line of cars was much longer," said Connie.

"It's pretty late," said Nigel.

"A weekend night? Peak time for partiers."

"You crossed this time of night? When you were a kid?" Nigel asked.

Connie didn't reply. Instead she said, "Turn right up here."

Where they ended up didn't look like your typical tourist strip. No big straw hats or Mexican tchotchkes. This was for a totally different brand of tourist. Ones who wanted to get their rocks off looking at girls. Or being with them.

Women, most not all that attractive, walked the streets, pausing to ask some men a question. Or just stood there for the man to approach them. Shoddy looking hotels, two or three a block, with barely any signage, looked to provide rooms on an hourly basis. The glaring signage, neon and big, in front of at least three entrances, advertised their wares. Naked women dancing. On stage or on laps.

"Take a left here," said Connie. "The next right. Turn right into the alley." A few yards later was a dimly lit parking area. A mix of cars, SUVs and trucks, mostly high end. A thickly built, dark, tough looking hombre leaned against a light post smoking a cheroot. "Go ahead and park," said Connie.

"What's going on?" Nigel finally asked. His silence before had to do with amazement more than anything.

"You'll see," Connie tittered.

She hopped out of the car and went to the hombre. While the others, much slower, exited the car, Nigel still managed to hear the man call her Contessa. Or thought he did. He made sure the doors were locked.

"Follow me," Connie grinned.

She opened a heavy metal door. Some sort of emergency exit, but it made no sound. What could be heard was the thudding of disco music coming from down a hall. They turned right instead, to an elevator. Industrial, with manual metal slat doors needing to opened and closed before Connie pressed 3. It slowly rose to that floor and the opposite door opened to a darkly lit gambling den. Except for the tables well-lit with tiffany style lamps. A round poker table at the center, mostly full, with smaller tables that curved semicircular around a dealer. Black jack, Nigel figured, but no signs advertised minimum bets or anything for that matter. And he noticed one had one of those shoes. Like for the game James Bond favored. At least in the Sean Connery era. A couple of pool tables sat on the other side of the room. One of them idle while the other had four well if provocatively dressed women around it. Considerably better looking than the ones walking the streets, but Nigel had a feeling their bodies were equally involved in their profession. Just much better paid.

Other similarly dressed women sat close to men at the poker table. Some at the smaller tables seemed to be playing, though their body language suggested involvement with the men beside them.

Most of the men dressed well, all with sports jackets. Which didn't make Nigel feel any less uncomfortable. Though, because of his linen jacket, he did manage to match a couple men in his attire. T-shirts under sports jackets.

A woman emerging from a side door took their focus. Older by decades than Connie, nevertheless, the slim, tall, elegant woman looked a lot like her.

"Consuella," she smiled hugging her. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow. I thought you'd come by the house." All in Spanish.

"I found these gringos at my cousin's wedding, and my new friend Marcy. I thought it would be fun to come visit you at your establishment."

"You did always like it here," the woman chuckled. "How was the wedding?"

"Besides the ridiculous maids dresses and the reception after, it was sweet."

"Your father...?"

"Yes."

The woman shook her head and sighed. "He was a proud young man."

"Arrogant you mean. And he's only gotten worse. The way he snubbed you, his coolest aunt."

"It probably didn't help when you ran away to me."

"He knew where I was and that I was safe."

"Only after I insisted you call him."

"True."

"Are you going to introduce me?" the woman said in clear, if heavily accented English.

"Sorry," Connie said contritely, a first for her. "The gringos are brothers. Reggie's the hairy redhead and Nigel is the nervous respectable one. Marcy's best friend just got married, so we decided I'd replace her. Guys, this is Celia, my great aunt. She runs this establishment."

"Call me Queenie," said Celia.

"Queenie and the Contessa," Nigel couldn't help chuckling. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he bowed.

"Contessa," Queenie smirked. "She's her father's daughter despite what she says. Or maybe because of it."

"Auntie!"

Celia switched to Spanish. "Did you bring the items we discussed?"

"Yes, I have them," Connie patted her black leather purse hanging from her shoulder.

Back to English, Celia smiled. "Follow me, ladies, gentlemen."

They followed her through the door from which she had appeared. A dimly lit hallway. To the left an open door showed two men looking at four large flat screens, each screen divided into four with images shifting in each quadrant. Headphones pressed against their ears. They looked like they could be related to the man watching the cars outside. Just past them a door opened and a nervous, skinny little man popped out sniffling. He looked to have mostly European antecedents.

"Queenie," he said in surprise.

She just shook her head, her expression between a frown and a smirk. He opened the next door on the left and darted in before closing it, too late not to see a tall, voluptuous bottle blonde in panties, putting on a bra over large fake tits.

The hallway ended with a door, heavier than the others. A security pad kept it secure, and Celia pressed five buttons before opening it, her tall body hiding the numbers from everyone.

The door opened to an impressive office, featuring a large old dark wood desk, mahogany it looked like, and a high backed expensive looking leather office chair behind it. A flat screen monitor sat to one side and a phone with several buttons for exchanges on the other. A couple files rested between them, one open.

"Uhm, toilet?" Marcy asked.

"Down to the right. You'll see a door straight ahead."

"Just a second Marcy," said Connie, pulling out a memory stick and her smartphone and placed both on the desk. "The memory card has the latest images," she said before she walked off with Marcy.

Celia shook her head. "You want me to get the card?" Nigel asked.

"That would be wonderful," she smiled at him. "And maybe you could help with this contraption." She pulled out a reading device wired to the computer. It looked like any sort of plug in had a slot for it.

When Nigel stepped around, he saw the four quadrant configuration like in the security room. The images, from the parking lot to the gambling hall, including the elevator, revealed that she had seen them arrive. The keyboard sat on a sliding drawer. She punched a couple buttons, and the screen showed the computer status and various drives, one of which she opened. The drive showed subdrives, and when she pushed in the stick, one of the subdrives showed it had files. She opened it, revealing several numbered jpeg files.

After Nigel opened Connie's phone and pulled out the memory card, he found the tiny slot that looked like it would fit it and slid it in.

"Thank you, young man," Celia said.

"I have a feeling you don't wish to see what's on them."

"Probably best you don't."

He walked to other side of the desk while she clicked on a file and nodded. His eyes wandered around the space. Large windows behind her desk looked over an alley. A small neon sign across the way advertised some sort of club. She must have noticed him looking at it. "You've heard of donkey shows?" she asked him.

"You're kidding."

She laughed. "I am. But that's the closest thing to it. Whatever your kink. I suppose if you provide the donkey," she shrugged.

He chuckled. "You own it too?"

"I like to keep an eye on it. In case the wrong sort stumble by."

"The wrong sort?"

"Bums. Boyfriends. Police. Press. Or anyone looking suspicious."

"You must pay off the police."

"Of course. But greed knows no limits, yes?"

"Do you mind if I..." Reggie asked, gesturing at a table with various alcoholic beverages on it.

"Help yourself. An icebox beneath has mixers and ice."

"Thanks."

Nigel kept studying the office. The large windows continued along the side facing the back alley. A curtain hid an area.

"I sleep here sometimes," she explained. "If you wish to rest...?"

"I could use the bathroom when the ladies are done. Did you and Connie have plans?"

"We need to discuss much. And she may need to help with an errand."

"An errand?"

"Do not worry," she chuckled. "She will have a driver. I hope you stay. To bring her back across the border."

"Too late to leave now," he shrugged.

"Good. If you wish to gamble, Consuela has some money coming. And for you bringing her here."

"I wouldn't mind," said Reggie.

"You will need a jacket. Through the curtain, past the bed, you will find a closet. There should be one big enough."

"Cool," said Reggie passing through the curtain.

The ladies returned and Nigel rushed past them.

"Is that what you needed," Connie asked her aunt in Spanish.

"I am still looking. Let me copy the memory card and you can put it back, if you know how."

"I do."

"So far so good," Celia said.

"I thought so," said Connie proudly.

"Contessa," Celia smirked.

"Where's Reggie?" Marcy asked, worried.

"He wished to gamble and needs a jacket," Celia nodded at the curtain. "Would you like to join him or rest with Nigel? I believe that is what he wishes."

"So we're staying?"

"Like I told Nigel, Consuela and I have much business."

"Is this why you wished to go to Tijuana?"

Connie shrugged.

"Two gringos as you call them and a blonde," Marcy muttered.

"Best not to ask too many questions," Celia responded, seriously. Marcy felt the threat.

"Whatever."

"Good."

The two men emerged from the opposite sides of the office nearly simultaneously, Reggie wearing a loud red crushed velvet jacket with intricate stitching depicting bullfighting. "Quite a selection," he grinned.

"My collection," said Celia. "Like some collect stamps and coins. I collect jackets from the men in my life."

"I'll bring it back when I'm done," Reggie promised.

"No. Keep it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Bad memories?"

"He was a good man," she said a little sadly.

"Was?"

"Yes. Hopefully it will give you better luck than he had. Though he was mostly lucky."

She opened a drawer and pulled out a thick wad of bills. Counting out several, she handed them to Reggie. "That and the jacket for helping out Consuela."

"Wow. Thanks."

"Are you going to gamble?" Marcy asked Nigel.

"I think I'll rest for now."

"Me too."

"If you are going to discuss things...?" Nigel started.

"The curtain is very heavy. Some sort of acoustic thing. You will not hear. I have used it for...never mind."

"Of course," Nigel said. "Perhaps I'll have a drink. Marcy?"

"Okay."

"You're staying?" Reggie asked Connie.

"Yes Reggie. And if one of the ladies catches your eye, I won't mind."

"Whatever you say Contessa. You'll fetch me when you're ready?"

"I will, but it won't be for hours."

"If you get tired," Celia said. "One of ladies can show you a room to rest."

"Okay. See you guys."

"Have fun," said Nigel.

"I intend to." And he left.

While Nigel poured glasses of Mescal for him and Marcy, Marcy discovering the small fridge and some sour mix, he asked Celia, "How well did you stake him."

"It should last him if he's at all good?"

"I was always the better poker player," said Nigel, "though Reggie would never admit it."

"I can give you some cash," Celia offered.

"Maybe later. I'm pretty beat."

"Me too," said Marcy.

He nodded when she offered to mix in some sour. They took their glasses into the bedroom.

As soon as the curtain closed, she drank down her drink. "Finish it!" she insisted.

"How drunk are you?" he asked.

"Drunk enough not to freak out."

He nodded and swallowed down his as well. His body warmed immediately. She took his glass and set it aside with hers. Then kissed him. Her hands helped him remove his jacket, then took hold of the bottom of his shirt. He let her pull it off him, breaking the kiss. And did the same to hers. Naked chests crushed together when they resumed their kiss. His hands slid down her soft back and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, pressing her groin into his. Her hands slid between them, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. So, easing back to give her room, he did the same to her. Once loosened, his hands held her naked ass cheeks, slipping under the panties. A nudge by her urged him to sit on the edge of the bed. The kiss ended, her lips moving down his slim yet muscled torso, until, kneeling, she pulled on his pants. He lifted and let her remove them. His underpants went with them, revealing his half hard penis. Her lips attempted to make him harder.