Double Cross

Detective Teichi didn’t like being in Thailand. Everybody else he had told about the trip thought it was great, but he hated this place. Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was the noise and the unusual smells, perhaps it was the same thing that made the police officer hate every place, but Thailand just got to him. Yet because he held a tiny sliver of hope that he could solve the case that had haunted him for the last ten years, he had to come down to this hellhole.
Today Teichi was going to visit the hellhole of this hellhole. He was going to the prison where John Goodman, an Australian national, had spent fifteen years of his life. Teichi almost felt sorry for the criminal when he saw the prison. He had seen kennels more cleanly and inviting than this place. He had to put a handkerchief over his face to keep out the smell. Luckily, the interrogation room was pleasant, at least in comparison. After a few minutes of waiting, John Goodman was brought into the room by two guards.
John Goodman did not look so good. After all the years he spent in this prison, this was not surprising. Still, the sight of him alarmed Teichi. He wasn’t like the handsome, rugged Australian cowboy in the old passport photo. He looked like a corpse, bald and aged before his time. The man was only in his fifties, but he look like he was in his seventies. His back was arched like a peasant, and he walked in a slow crawl. His eyes were the worst part. The detective had never seen such dull eyes. Teichi wondered if the prisoner could even talk.
The detective began his well practiced speech in English.
“Good morning,” he said, “My name is Inspector Teichi of Interpol.”
He showed his ID to the uncaring man. It was a matter of procedure.
“I’m here to investigate two Japanese citizens, by the names of San and Tsuki Tamashiro. We have reason to believe that they have committed a string of confidence jobs across Japan and Asia,” he explained.
In reality it was mostly only him he who believed that those two men were the legendary Okinawa Twins. Many other investigators were skeptical that the Tamashiro twins had done all the things Teichi accused of them. Yet the detective had managed to convince his bosses that there was something to his theories.
The detective continued, “We believe that you might have had contact with these two suspects, probably under an alias. If you have any information at all on one or both of these men, it would be of extreme help. If you cooperated with us, we are willing to convince the Thai government to send you back to your homeland.”
The prisoner did not respond. Detective Teichi was worried, but continued on. He opened his briefcase and took out his prized possession: a copy of the only verified photo the Japanese police had of the Tamashiro twins. It was an old photo, from around 1970, and done with a cheap camera, but it was what they had. Teichi always felt the twin’s reluctance to be photographed was evidence of their guilt, but he knew that the court wouldn’t accept camera-shyness as proof of anything.
“Here is a picture of the suspects,” the detective said as he placed the photo on the table.
John Goodman’s eyes, so dull before, suddenly sparked to life like Frankenstein’s monster hit by a bolt of lightning. His lower lip quivered in rage. He started to raise his fist. The guards moved forward in preparation. Finally, John Goodman spoke up.
“THEM,” he declared.
“You know them, right?” Teichi asked pointlessly.
The prisoner lost his anger and moved on to a strange happiness. He smiled at the detective.
“I can tell you everything that happened,” he drawled in English.
The prisoner began his story while the detective wrote it down. John Goodman had met the Tamashiro Twins back in the late eighties. Back then he was known as Buddy Hart, or mostly just Buddy. He never knew the twins real last name, but he could swear their real first names were San and Tsuki. He just couldn’t swear he knew which was which. Still, Buddy could recognize those eyes even in that bad photo.
The twins were in their mid-twenties when he met them, by his reckoning. Buddy was an experienced con men, and they were just pups. They had recently left Japan, worried about legal trouble, and had now reunited in Thailand. They were nervous but eager to play the game. Buddy thought he could lead them.
Over the course of a month the three engineered a plan to con an American tourist with a story about riches lost in the war. Buddy played another tourist to lure the trap. It was perfect. John Goodman explained everything in detail. He apparently hadn’t had a chance to talk in English in a long time, and he was taking advantage of it. He talked not only about the plan but about little things, like the hotel they stayed at, and of the bar met them in. However, he did not talk much about the last night he saw the twins, except to say that they celebrated. In the morning, he was arrested by the police in his hotel room. John Goodman believed that it was the twins who framed them, though he admittedly had no solid proof.
“I hate those two motherfuckers, and I hope you catch them,” John Goodman finished.
Detective Teichi would have probably left Goodman’s testimony at that, if it weren’t for one thing. It seemed strange, and it seemed even strange now that he knew more of the story.
“Just one more thing, Mr. Goodman,” the detective said.
“Yes?”
“You said that you didn’t have any problems with the Tamashiro twins until the morning you were arrested. But in the arrest report it said it appeared you had gotten in a fight.”
“A fight?”
“Well, there were numerous bruises over your body. Did you get into an argument with them?”
“No!”
“So, you had a fight with someone else that night?”
“No, I mean yes, with someone else. I went down to the bar and got into a fight.”
Teichi looked again at the arrest record. He had always found something euphemistic in the language of it, and at this point he felt brave enough to ask it.
“This fight…” he began, “Were you sexually assaulted?”
The prisoner would have blanched if he could. His anger returned again.
He yelled, “They’re freaks! They’re fucking freaks! Goddamn spawn of Satan!”
The wronged con man got up and threw the table. The guards quickly went to restrain him.
“Calm down!” the detective yelled.
John Goodman did calm down, and confessed what happened that night when he celebrated. He told the detective what had happened back when he was Buddy Hart.

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Buddy licked his lips in anticipation he rode the elevator up to his room in the Pattaya Queen. This was what he’d been waiting for, ever since Madam Green introduced him to those delectable twins. Even the actually pay off of the con paled in comparison. Buddy loved money, but he loved sex even more.
Buddy let the twins get out of the elevator first so he could once again admire their firm bums. He was just aching for that man pussy, he could hardly contain himself. However, he kept his calm demeanor. He listened to twins chatter in Japanese, while he remained silently. He hoped they would be that vocal in bed. Buddy spoke up when they actually got into the room.
“Things are coming together,” he declared in English.
“Aren’t you afraid of jinxing things?” Tsuki playfully asked.
“You don’t want bad luck,” San added.
“Who needs luck when I’ve got you guys?” Buddy replied.
The twins sat down on Buddy’s bed. Buddy thought this was too perfect. They were already in place. He made his move.
“I love it when a con is made,” he said, circling the bed, “It’s just such a high. I feel so awesome. I’ve got tons of energy and I just want to...I want to fuck all night.”
The twins jumped a bit on this line. He knew they wanted it too. They turned to each other and nodded.
“We get where you’re going,” Tsuki said.
“You want to fuck us, right?” San added.
Buddy put out his arms and asked “Wouldn’t it be the perfect celebration, mates?”
The twins stood up and walked next to Buddy. Buddy could feel his erection growing.
“All right, mate,” they answered.
Buddy smiled broadly. He could not believe how easy this was.
“So which one of you wants to go first?” Buddy asked.
The twins answered. “We do things together.”
Buddy sighed.
He said to them, “Now, let me explain things here. I’m a top and always will be. So how’s this going to work?”
As he talked, San slipped behind him.
“You don’t understand, mister,” he whispered to the Australian, “We do things together.”
Buddy never figured out exactly what happened next. Now, he was six foot five, and by his reckoning the twins were only around five seven. They were very wiry, and he was a pretty burly. Yet somehow, the next moment he was on the floor with his arms behind him.
“What the fuck?” he yelled.
“This is democracy, bitch, and you’ve been overrule!” San replied.
Tsuki then leaned his weight on Buddy while San pulled down the embarrassed man’s pants. The younger twin massaged the man’s bum.
“Shame you’re a top, you have a awesome bottom,” he said.
“Mmmhmm,” Tsuki agreed.
Buddy pushed his body up in rage.
“Get the fuck off me,” he yelled.
San hit him on the back of the head while Tsuki pushed him down again. Buddy’s head was now ringing. The two roughly restrained him.
“Where’s the lube?” San asked.
Buddy growled.
“Guess you’ll have to go dry, brother,” Tsuki said.
“It’s in the first drawer in the night stand!” Buddy confessed.
The older twin moved to get it. San leaned deeply on Buddy. Buddy could feel San’s erection pressing through his pants on his bare bottom. It felt big, bigger than he’d ever expected. Weren’t Asians supposed to be unendowed? Buddy was scared, scared and yet still horny as heck.
Tsuki came back with a small bottle of lube and tossed it to his brother. Buddy took the chance to move up but was pushed down again. He growled as he felt the lube he planned to use on the twins used on him.
“Maybe he prefers it dry?” Tsuki asked.
“Maybe,” San answered.
Then, San unzipped his pants, and immediately started fucking the large Australian as hard as he could. Buddy, shocked at the pain, pulled away, but Tsuki pushed him back. San pumped him, slapping him on the back from time to time.
“Isn’t this fun?” San asked.
Buddy let out a blue streak. “You crazy fucking Japs! You pussy-eyed cunts, get the fuck off me!”
Tsuki grabbed Buddy’s head.
“Play nice, you fucking gaijin,” he said cheerfully.
He then pushed Buddy’s head into his crotch as he undid his zipper. The older twin’s long hard penis flopped out. Buddy stared at it.
“Like it?” Tsuki asked.
“I’ll bite that off if you put that in me!” Buddy threatened him.
San grabbed Buddy’s thighs hard, making him howl.
“You don’t want to do that, do you?” San asked.
Buddy took the hint and put his mouth on the huge erection. Tsuki pushed the man’s head down on his cock til it went down his throat. Buddy’s eyes teared up but he didn’t bite down, too afraid of what might happen.
So the twin fucked him hard from both ends. San fucked him in the ass, while Tsuki fucked his face. They rode him roughly over the carpet and dug their nails into him. Buddy was aching, he was in pain all over, and he was furious. But he also was as hard as nails. He desperately wanted to just touch his throbbing erection, but his arms were pulled away. The twins noticed his plight.
“Poor Buddy,” San moaned.
“Jerk him off,” Tsuki moaned back.
“You’re the nice one.”
“You...you’re closer.”
“I’m...so close.”
San moaned in Japanese and grabbed Buddy’s dick. He squeezed it tight, and rubbed it a few times before stopping.
“We’re going to come,” the twins said.
The prediction came true. A few moments later, all three of them came like rockets. San came into Buddy, Buddy came in San’s hand, and Tsuki came right in Buddy’s mouth. They all collapsed forward onto Tsuki. The threesome laid on the floor for several minutes, exhausted and drenched in sweat. The room was silent. Finally, Buddy spoke up.
“You guys are fucking crazy,” he said.
San smiled and stood up.
“You liked it,” he said.
Buddy thought about. As crazy as it sounded, he wanted to do it again. Though it hurt so bad that orgasm felt so good. It was the best sex he’s ever had. He wasn’t sure he wanted to confess that to them, though.
Buddy answered, “Kinda.”
The twins gently picked him up and placed him on the bed. They put a pillow under his head, took off his dirty clothes, and covered his naked body in a sheet. Tsuki played with his hair while San stroked the palm of his hand. Now they were as tender and gentle as they were rough before.
“I don’t think you can go all night,” San said.
“Yeah, sorry guys,” Buddy said, though he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he was the one apologizing.
“Good night,” the twins said, and kissed him on the cheek.
Buddy drifted off to sleep then. He vaguely remembered hearing the twins talk in some secret Japonic language, but he doesn’t know if that was a dream or not. He woke up to the police banging on his door.

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Detective Teichi stared at John Goodman. The prisoner seemed healthier and happier now. On the other hand, his interviewer was now scared. He stood up to leave.
“Ummm, thank you for your help,” the detective said, bowing slightly.
The detective left the Thai prison uneased. Sure, the man had provided valuable information. He brought him closer to the Okinawa Twins. The thing is, the detective was unsure he wanted to be closer to them. He didn’t know they could be that way. It was then that the dreams about the twins started, he would later tell his therapist.
Meanwhile, the prisoner sat in his cell. Despite the totally breakdown of his lying skills, he was still happy. The twins were going to burn in Hell and he’d be sure to take them there.