Operation: Rigid Pt. 15

This time I was sharing the back seat of the Cadillac with Marta as we approached Coatzacoalcos, another coastal city nearly four hours south and east of Paso Tolome at the southern end of the State of Veracruz. Our three-vehicle caravan was belting along the 145D--a divided, controlled access highway similar to US Interstates--that covered most of the distance from Veracruz, where Voice lived, to Coatzacoalcos, the home base of Sergio Martos.

I'd learned in the past month that the games always started at three in the afternoon on the first Saturday of the month, as Letícia had said, and lasted until they were finished. We'd gotten a late start, and when Voice had finally arrived, Gregorio, Marta, Teresa, and I were already in the two security SUVs, ready to join formation with his S-Class. I was sitting behind the passenger seat, and I smiled as I glanced at the Escalade's speedometer. The posted speed limit was 110 km/h--about seventy miles per hour--but the needle in the Caddy's speedometer was currently hovering around 175 km/h--about 110 mph--and I'd seen it as high as 200 km/h--about 125 mph--on empty stretches as our convoy strained to make up time.

Like Voice's compound at Paso Tolome, outside Veracruz, and Garcia's compound at Potrero Nuevo near Córdoba, Martos didn't actually live in Coatzacoalcos, but inland of it slightly, on a large estate near Calzadas Viejo, on the banks of one of the Coatzacoalcos River tributaries. We arrived with barely ten minutes to spare, and were rushed through the hot, muggy air into the blessed coolness of Martos' villa. We were again the last team to arrive, and I wondered if that was the norm.

Where in Diego's home, the games room was a large open space that could have served any number of functions, and perhaps did when the circus wasn't in town, Martos held his games in a sunroom. The room had an easy-care dark tile floor, was full of plants and casual rattan furniture at opposite ends of its forty to fifty foot length, and was sunken two steps from the huge family room of the main house to visually separate it from the other room. With half the ceiling of its approximately twenty-foot depth, and its three walls made of glass, the room blazed with light.

I didn't know what the arrangement of the room normally looked like, but it was almost certain that the plants and furniture had been divided and moved to the opposite sides of the room. Not only did the thick jumble of potted plants form a visual screen to the sides, but it also left a twenty- by thirty-foot open area that now contained four, thick, vinyl pads arranged in a twenty- by twenty-foot square. Additional chairs, similar to those at the last tournament, had been arrayed closely around two of the open sides of the pads. At the right side of the mat were four comfortable looking rattan chairs, each with a wide red ribbon draped over its back. The marked chairs were also, I noticed, tucked more deeply into the foliage of the potted plants, and unlike the rattan chairs on the other side of the mat, there were no guest chairs to either side of them.

I thought it interesting that Martos held his games in a room made almost entirely of glass, especially since the padding went right up to the glass wall opposite the family room, but glancing around, I quickly realized only those invited would likely be able see what was occurring in the room. Not only did the arrangement and selection of the plants in the room provide an effective screen for prying eyes, but Martos' home was set well away from his neighbors to either side, with additional screening plants the length of his property providing even more privacy. Stretching away from the back of his house was a broad expanse of carefully maintained grass with a narrow, sluggish, brackish-looking river beyond. On the other side of the river was nothing but thick vegetation that appeared to be mostly mangrove, banana, and other scruffy looking trees and bushes. Martos' estate might not be walled like Voice's and Garcia's, but it was just as private, and I suspected just as secure.

I'd barely finished taking in my surroundings when guests began to flow through the family room, and then into the sunroom from somewhere else in the house. I people watched until I saw my biggest fan. She smiled at me as she approached, taking a chair directly behind where I was standing. I smiled at her in return, causing her to beam. Moments later, the four principals entered, and as before, three men sat while the fourth, the host, remained standing.

After everyone settled, the thick, balding man with the voice that sounded like distant thunder spoke. "Welcome, friends and guests," Martos began, his voice sounding almost painful to use. "Competitors, if you'll please prepare yourselves."

I turned to my friend. "Would you mind?" I asked as I began unbuttoning my shirt.

"Not in the least," the woman replied, her delight unmistakable.

The five women that bracketed her didn't say anything, but I could tell from their faces they were annoyed, or perhaps slightly jealous, that I'd immediately zeroed in on the woman without giving them a second look.

I was again the only one wearing normal street clothes, the rest of the competitors still opting for easy to care for, easy to remove, clothing. I undressed, putting on a semi-private strip show, and like last month, I was the slowest undressing by far, so much so that as I was peeling out of my underwear, Víctor began bitching, in a stage whisper that I was surely meant to hear, that I was 'taking too fucking long.'

There was clearly a ritual to the games, and after I finished stripping, we mingled as we had before. I recognized all the same competitors, but I'd long since forgotten their names. The only two I could remember were Víctor and that chick I fucked... Zamboni... or whatever the hell her name was. As we strutted and postured, allowing the guests to cop a feel, Martos began speaking again.

"Today, our valiant gladiators are competing in a come fight." The crowd muttered in appreciation. The guests obviously knew what a 'come fight' was, but I didn't, and could think of a least a dozen things it might be. Had one of my housemates been close, I'd have asked for clarification, but since we were scattered all over the room, I had to hope Martos would explain it further. "After the teams are selected," Martos continued, "the competitors will draw to determine their opponent. First one to come, go soft, or withdraw is eliminated. Winners will compete to determine the winner among the men and women, then our two champions will compete for the overall win."

The games explained, Martos settled to his chair while we all strutted around the room, posing and flirting with the guests. Valencia was standing directly behind Voice, but as none of the competitors approached the four men sitting in the rattan chairs, I didn't have an opportunity to annoy her.

Finally, Martos rose and began speaking again. "Gentlemen," he growled, "if you'll choose your number. Felicita, if you please."

A woman nodded as she pushed her way through the overlapping fronds of the plants as the teams reformed, then returned with a small silver tray holding three stone boxes clustered close together. As at the previous games, the woman bent low as she presented the tray to the men, again starting with the man farthest left. Pico selected a box, removed the lid, and withdrew a piece of paper before placing the box and lid back on the tray. The woman moved on before pausing before Garcia and then Voice.

"Number one, please," Martos said.

"Marco and Pia," Garcia replied.

"Number two, please," our host continued as a man and woman from Garcia's stabled stepped onto the mat.

Pico seemed to consider. "Tomás and... Adana I think." Another pair stepped onto the mat.

"Number three, please."

"Gregorio and Teresa," Voice replied without hesitation, his voice as robotic and unemotional as the last time I'd heard him speak. Gregorio and Teresa stepped onto the mat, claiming the third side.

"Julio and Consuelo," Martos finished.

All three of my housemates glanced at each other across the open area of the mat. "What?" I whispered to Marta as the last side of the mat was claimed by a team.

"This is Víctor's event. I wonder why Sergio didn't pick him?"

"Because he competed the last time?" I suggested.

"Unlikely. Maybe he has the clap?" she guessed with a grin.

It appeared we weren't the only ones surprised with Martos' choice as I could see other teams in whispered discussions as well. As Marta and I discussed, the woman with the tray, who's name I'd already forgotten, along with all the others, pushed her way back through the plants and then reappeared with two black cloth bags, one in each hand. She started with her own team, holding out first one bag and then the other as the man, and then the woman, reached into their respective bag and then withdrew their hand in a fist. Next was Pico's team, and then she paused before Gregorio and Teresa. The final team reached into the bag, and then the sexy bagwoman stepped off the mat.

"Competitors..." Martos began before pausing to build suspense, "please display your colors."

Gregorio and Teresa held up a poker chip for all to see, both white. The other men and women were doing the same, displaying green, white, and red chips. The men were holding either green or white chips, while the women were holding either white or red. I smiled. If we'd been in the United States, the colors would have been red, white, and blue.

The woman who'd passed out the chips circled the mat and collected the chips. "What's the rules?" I whispered to Marta.

"Whatever the competitors decide," she whispered in return. "Watch."

Gregorio and the man who'd also been holding a white chip met in the center of the mat as the other competitors squared off with their opposite. "White men," Martos grumbled.

"No hands," Gregorio's foe growled as he stroked his rod.

"Accepted. Cock to cock only," Gregorio countered, his own hand slowly caressing his hard member.

The man considered a moment. "No. Sucking too."

"Accepted," Gregorio grumbled with a nod, stroking his cock harder.

"Accepted."

When they didn't continue, Martos spoke again. "White women."

"No rules," Teresa sneered.

"Accepted."

When the other woman added nothing, Teresa accepted as well.

The green males and red females set their rules, the men agreeing to no rules, and the women deciding, after a fair amount of back and forth, on pussy eating with the use of hands, but no penetration.

The ROEs--Rules of Engagement--set, Martos continued. "Everyone ready?" he asked, his pants tented with a noticeable wet spot visible. The eight combatants stared at each other but said nothing. "Today's safe word is Kaleidoscope." He paused for a moment. "Begin!"

The combatants wasted no time getting to it. The male green team was immediately on the mat with a crushing body slam before they dove for each other's stiff cocks, their large rods disappearing into waiting mouths as hips thrust and fingers caressed scrotums.

The women were less violent, but they too were quickly on the mat, Teresa and her foe burying their faces in each other's pussies while the other two women kissed furiously as their fingers teased their opposite's pussy with abandon.

Gregorio and his opponent were still on their feet, grunting and growling as they grappled. Their hands were a flurry of motion as each tried to gain leverage on the other, their rods bouncing, swaying, and occasionally slapping together with their struggle, each trying to tie the other up while avoiding the same fate. Finally, Gregorio's rival managed to find purchase, their arms wrapped around and over each other as their chiseled bodies and stiff rods ground together, before they slammed to the mat with a thud and a grunt.

"My fucking cock!" Gregorio wailed as the men slammed to the mat, their hard cocks trapped between their bodies as they crashed to the floor.

The other man likewise howled in pain. "My balls!"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically. The shouting seemed louder and more demonstrative than last time, but I didn't know if that was because the crowed was more boisterous this month, the acoustics of the room only made it seem louder, or if I only thought it was louder because I wasn't the one in the match.

Unlike last month, the members of the teams not actually competing didn't interfere with the match, but stood along the sidelines to cheer their teammates on.

I glanced at Voice. He was watching the match intently, but unlike the other three men, he wasn't cheering. With his mask, it was impossible to read his expression, and Valencia only occasionally glanced at the writhing, naked bodies only feet in front of her.

"Come on Teresa!" Marta called from beside me. "You've got her! Lick that pussy!"

My attention returned to the mat. Gregorio and the other man had each other in muscle straining embraces, their arms still tangled, but now they'd gripped each other's hair to hold their opponent into a savage kiss, as the man on top thrust his hips brutally, grinding his cock against Gregorio's as they grunted and moaned in pain, effort, and lust.

"Get out of there!" I called to Gregorio, trying to blend in.

"He's fucking you!" Marta called, her attention shifting to Gregorio's match. "His cock is fucking yours!"

I glanced at Teresa as she and her opponent warred, their hips rocking slowly as they continued eating pussy, their fingers now plunging furiously into their wet holes. The other two battles also raged, the men slobbering over each other's cock as they stroked each other's manhood hard and fast, their faces twisting with lust and need, as the other women likewise battled, spinning and tumbling like wildcats, crying out in effort and rage as they fought more than they fucked.

Voice's movement caught my attention, and I looked away from the action on the mat as Marta continued to cheer Teresa to victory, while also shouting encouragement to Gregorio as he struggled to escape the embrace of his foe. As I watched, Voice slid two gloved fingers between his throat and the mic before he leaned over to Pico to murmur something I couldn't hear. I wasn't very good a reading lips in any case, and especially not in Spanish, but I think Voice said five thousand before Pico nodded in agreement. It was Pico's man that was fucking Gregorio, and I wondered if Voice was placing a bet that Gregorio could turn the tables on his opponent, and fuck his way out of his current situation. I also wondered if the five thousand was pesos or dollars.

"Fuck!" the man fucking Gregorio roared. "Your fucking cock is going to make me come!"

Gregorio hauled the man's head back by his hair as he wrapped him with his powerful legs. "Fuck my cock! Fuck it!"

"I'm fucking it! I'm fucking your cock!"

My gaze flicked back to Voice. For the briefest of moments, my gaze locked with Valencia's, before her gaze skimmed over the men and women engaged in erotic battle before her, and then returned to sweeping the room. As I watched, Garcia leaned over, whispered into Voice's ear as he pointed at Teresa and her opponent, and Voice nodded in return. Garcia grinned as he returned to his former position... and I wondered if the three men knew Voice's identity. I couldn't see how they couldn't, and I tried to think of a way to confirm my suspicion without putting my dick in a grinder. I hadn't asked anyone about Voice since my conversation with the guard over the FX-05 weeks ago.

"Bitch!" a woman screamed, drawing my attention to Teresa. "You're pulling my fucking hair!"

Teresa and the woman were scrambling over each other, one hand wadded in their nemesis's hair, their faces twisted in pain as they battled, each trying to mount the other. As I watched, they tumbled, Teresa coming to rest on top of the other woman, their breasts crushed together as they continued to pull on each other's locks. Her ass in the air, Teresa sneered at the woman under her as her fingers danced furiously in the woman's wetness.

"Fuck!" the woman wailed, her hand likewise busy at Teresa's pussy, but it was clear who was winning. Where Teresa looked determined, her teeth bared with aggression, the other woman's eyes were closed and her mouth was open, as if she were battling her pleasure.

"Come on, you bitch! You're beaten! Come!" Teresa growled as her hand flashed and plunged.

"I'm going to come!" the other woman cried. "I'm about to come!"

"Do it! Come!"

"You're making me come!"

"Give it to me! Give me your come!" Teresa hissed.

The woman made one final, valiant effort to escape, pulling hard on Teresa's hair as she thrust her hips violently, slamming her pussy forcefully against Teresa's, but even as Teresa cried out in pleasure or pain, she continued with her furious fingering of the woman.

"I'm coming!" the woman wailed loudly in the instant before she released Teresa's hair, flung her arms around the woman who had just defeated her, and hauled her down into a torrid kiss as she twisted with desperate strength.

The two women came to rest with Teresa on her back, holding the woman into the kiss, their legs tangled, as the woman furiously rocked her hips against Teresa's firm, shapely, leg.

The red women wailed. During their wild tumbling, they'd come to rest in a sitting position, facing each other, their legs wrapped over and under their enemy with their pussies almost touching as they furiously fingered each other's button. With a wail, one of the women gripped the other's hair and pulled her lips to her own, their large breasts and jutting nipples being crushed together. The woman being held by her hair responded in the same manner, holding her foe into the kiss.

Across the mat, the green men engaged in erotic combat on their knees. They were facing each other, foreheads grinding together with one hand on the back of their enemies' neck, the other gripping the rod of their opponent. Gasping and hissing in lust and need, their hips thrusting violently, they jerked mercilessly on each other's thick cocks with strong hands, their slickness making their shafts glisten.

Gregorio's foe roared as they tumbled across the mat, Gregorio finally succeeding in toppling the man off him. As the man tried to escape, Gregorio shoved him hard before throwing himself across his body.

"Fucker! You motherfucker!" the man roared as Gregorio began savagely thrusting his hips.

The men were facing in opposite directions with Gregorio reared up on his strong arms as he drove his cock repeatedly into the other man's, their cocks crashing together before sliding past.

"Your cock is so fucking hard!" the man roared, his voice full of both pain and lust.

"I'm fucking your cock!"

"Fuck my cock! Fuck it with your big hard cock!"

My face twisted with sympathy. Ramming their cocks together like that had to hurt, but neither seemed willing to retreat from the contest or the pain.

"Fuck!" the man screamed as come exploded from his shaft to coat Gregorio's hard plunging cock. "I'm fucking coming! I'm fucking coming on that big cock!"

Gregorio threw himself back and savagely gripped his cock, his face twisting with lust and pain as he wailed in erotic anguish. As Gregorio snarled and grunted, clearly trying to hold his load, Teresa had disengaged from her match and was sitting on the mat, slowly stroking her pussy as she watched the red women battle it out. It was obvious to everyone the two women still fighting were only moments from breaking.

"Fuck..." Gregorio sneered as Teresa flashed him a double thumbs-up and a smile. "I almost came," he gasped as he slowly released his manhood.