DEVIL’S CUCKOLD

Belu felt his cock get hard when the couple entered the bar. He knew that his cock had a sixth sense about certain things. It always knew what Belu wanted and told him when it was near. What he wanted today went far beyond a good fuck. He wanted something much darker and was pleased when he felt the couple walk in.

Belu, with a drink in hand, turned on the bar stool. From the shadows where he sat he saw an American couple huddling at the entrance of the bar. Belu found their citizenship obvious because even amongst the portraits of Mexican wrestlers that lined the colorfully tiled walls, their garishness stood out.

Belu watched the couple scan the bar like a fine New York restaurant instead of the gaudy tourist trap it was. Belu would never have usually visited a place like this if it wasn’t for the one thing that it had in steady supply, prey.

Finding a table, the man approached the bar. Belu identified him to be 28-years-old, fit and vane. The way his perfectly quaffed dark hair covered his forehead made him seem somewhere between Clark Kent and Superman. And Belu imagined that under his loose fitting shirt was a hard, hairless body, sculpted to perfection from hundreds of hot, sweaty hours at the gym.

The man stood at the bar next to Belu trying to get the bartender’s attention. It wasn’t a very busy afternoon, but the bartender was whispering into a giggling waitress’ ear; in other words, he was distracted as fuck.

Belu turned and stared at the man. His face was masculine and very balanced. His nose came to a point and his jaw line was defined.

Belu knew the man wouldn’t notice him, but it was as hot in the bar as it was in all of Guadalajara. Belu knew that the longer the man stood there, the more heat would emanate from Belu’s body and the man would eventually turn.

The tourist shifted back and forth as Belu’s heat got to him. After arriving in the country, the man had decided that there was something about Mexico that set him on edge. But now more than that, there was something about the bar that stirred his juices.

The tourist, feeling the sweat rolling down his chest looked to his right. Sitting next to him was Belu. The man found nothing distinctive about him at first glance, but there was something about Belu’s eyes that kept him from looking away.

Belu locked onto the man’s eyes and searched his mind. He scanned his surface memories looking for an image that had once turned the man on. Belu wanted an image that the man couldn’t resist; one that when presented to the man with the opportunity to fuck, he wouldn’t be able to say “no”.

When his conscious thoughts bore no fruit, Belu dug deeper. He traveled to the man’s sub-conscious mind, and then his unconscious. It was there when Belu felt himself begin to take shape.

Yes! He thought.

Belu felt his image discard the shadow that he used to hide himself. And as if stepping from out of silhouette, Belu’s body took form. Belu saw his own reflection in the man’s eyes. His now very masculine build matched the man’s. Belu had dirty blond hair, a four-day-stubble beard, and his face was very angular. He liked his new body. And the man, seeing Belu for the first time, clearly did as well.

“Hey,” the man said compulsively.

Belu nodded his head still staring deep into his eyes.

“Jules,” the tourist said sticking out his hand.

With a firm grip Belu grabbed Jules’ hand and blocked out the world around them. As everything surrounding the two men fell away, the sound of Jules’ increasing heart rate rang out.

Belu needed only one more thing for his power over the tourist to be complete. He needed to sync his heartbeat with Jules’. Once they beat as one, Belu’s presence would be like a hypnotic watch always pulling him deeper into Belu’s will. Their synchronized heartbeats would make it harder and harder for the man to resist.

There it is, Belu thought as their two hearts beat together. Now it’s time to get to work.

Belu let go of Jules’ hand and turned toward his table. He knew that Jules’ was now his to do with as he liked, but the woman had to be next.

“Who’s the woman?” He asked abruptly.

“She’s my wife. We just got married. This is our honeymoon,” Jules’ volunteered. “I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere? You just seem so familiar.”