SEX CRIMES UNIT 02
(ELIOT BETWEEN CASES)
Copyright 2006-2007. All rights reserved.
Story codes: MMM, M/b, oral, anal, pedo, ws, gangbang
DISCLAIMER: Some folks apparently have trouble distinguishing between fantasy and reality. This story is a fantasy. It didn't happen. Never will. And anyone who attempts to do in real life all or any of the things depicted in the story needs to be hanged, then drawn and quartered, and then turned over to the law for the harshest penalties the law allows. Now that we're clear on what's what, and what's not, read on.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This series of stories is set in the same "universe" as "Max's Boys." Some of what you read might make more sense if you've read those stories. `sup to you, of course. Questions? Praise? Worship on bended knee(s)? All of the above (and more) will be cheerfully accepted at: email@example.com.
ELIOT BETWEEN CASES
This shit has got to stop.
I tilted the longneck Bud back, finished it off. Looked at myself in the mirror behind the bar. Was the mirror fuzzy? Or my eyes?
Time to go home. More than fucking time, like way past fucking time. The captain has a special assignment for me, well, hell, probably for me and Ben, in the morning. I'm supposed to be alert and up for it.
Now my fuckin' watch was fuzzy, too. I squinted. One a.m. Yeah, time to go.
Oops. Maybe not. I looked down at the end of the bar. The bartender...Hank, or some other butch-sounding name...was talking to a guy, and then they both looked at me, and Hank-or-whatever said something more. The guy just stared at me, made sure I knew he was staring at me and not some neon beer sign on the wall behind me. Late 50's, maybe early 60's. Thin. Five-eight, five-nine, tops. Hundred thirty, but still there was a bulge at his belly, like maybe he was heading towards giving birth to a basketball. Very thin grey hair and not much of it. Slightly bulging eyes. Bushy eyebrows...guess that's where some of the hair from his head migrated. Lined, worn face with more frown lines than laugh lines around his thin lips, almost like they really didn't exist, just a slash across his face. Beaky thin nose. Nondescript dark jacket. Loose white tee, not that tight would have done anything for him. Jeans. Okay. I could pick him out in a line-up.
The guy licked his lips, like he was all of a sudden nervous, turned his head away towards the back, then to me. Then he turned and left. Not out of the bar. Down the hallway. Either to the back door that led out onto an enclosed patio, or to the toilet. I watched him go. Looked at the bartender again. Found him watching me. Looked casually around. Fuck. The only other men in the bar, four of `em at a table, were looking at me, too.
Shit. So much for subtlety. I guess they must have noticed me following those other three men back down that hallway...one at a fucking time...earlier. Maybe the men came back with a smug satisfied smile like guys get when they've just blown a good wad. Maybe my gotta-piss-like-a-racehorse bit, all that Bud I've been drinking, didn't come across as believable.
I thought of all the reasons I should get up and go. It's late. I have to be in early. I have to be alert for a new assignment. I'm a fucking cop for chrissake. I'm married, well, for a little while longer, with daughters. It's against the law. Public lewdness at best, felony sodomy at worst.
Good reasons. Excellent reasons. My mind applauded vigorously as I stood up. "Good show, Eliot! Jolly good show!" Christ I have to stop watching those damned old Brit comedies on PBS. Be better off if I was out getting laid.
Oh. Yeah. Right. Just what I was fucking trying to do.
My asshole had the right idea. My stomach was clenching, my dick was twitching, and my ass reminded me that the other three had just wanted blowjobs, and while that was all well and good...okay, my hole admitted, the second one was awfully damned good with a thick short cock that gave me two mouthfuls of cum and a couple of extra little spurts...my ass had yet to see any action tonight. My mouth had been used. My dick had gotten some action, of course just with my hand, but at least it had shot off right after the second guy. But my poor lonesome hole, waiting but empty all night. So maybe this guy would be different. One last try for my cunt, and if that doesn't work, I can go home and use that new long dark brown dildo with the wicked curve that had worked so well last night.
Fuck `em all if they can't take a joke.
I went down the dimly lit hallway, ignoring the smirk of the bartender, the one snicker from the table.
I was half-hoping he'd be on the patio, even though it was kind of chilly. If he was in the toilet he was going to just feed my rapidly growing, oh what the fuck, my full-blown addiction to toilet sex, to the smells of piss and sweat and cum and disinfectant, poppers and booze and weed. To the feel of cocks and balls and men's bodies, tight or loose assholes, greedy mouths and assholes.
Naturally he was in the toilet.
Standing at the urinal trough that was just big enough for two men to stand side by side. His left hand was moving, obviously stroking his dick since there was no sound of piss. I stood next to him. Looked down as I unzipped and hauled out my own eight-plus inches, hard and drooling. His cock was like the rest of him, long and thin, surrounded by hair as grey and thin as the stuff on his head.
He looked up at me. His voice was soft and just the tiniest bit nervous. "Bartender said he thought you might've been sucking some guys back here, earlier on."
Shit. Oh well. I nodded.
"You get fucked, too?"
My asshole began a rousing rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus. I nodded again.
"Well, drop your fucking pants. It's getting late and I want to blow a wad, and you'll do."
Being a cumdump in a sleazy bar at 1 a.m. on a Wednesday morning sure the fuck does good things for your ego. Three nods was too much. I just pulled a condom out of my shirt pocket and handed it to him; unbuckled, unzipped, dropped work slacks and boxers around my ankles. At this rate I was going to have to buy a new work wardrobe, since I couldn't wear pants to work that smelled like the floor of a bar toilet. Bastard ignored my leaking meat, the low-hanging extra-hairy balls. "Here?"
"Yeah, bend over the trough. But put this on me first."
I leaned over, slicked up his cock with a few up and downs with my mouth, ripped the package and slid the condom down. I slicked the covered cock with more spit. Spit on my fingers and reached behind me to massage and open my cunt a little. I'd gotten pretty good at doing that lately. But still.... "How about..." and I jerked my head toward the stall. That's where I'd blown the three earlier men.
He gave me a disgusted look. "Jesus, man, you're worried about someone coming in? Like Hank doesn't know you've been sucking cock all evening back here? Like the men at the table didn't know just what the fuck you were planning on doing when you followed me in here? Now bend the fuck over."
I loosened my tie a little more, unbuttoned a button half-way down, tucked the tie inside my dress shirt, turned away from him and leaned forward, left hand bracing on the rail where you could set your drink while you pissed, or did whatever you were going to do at the trough, my right hand gripping the trough, feeling the roughness of steel and rust, the dampness of piss and other liquids against my palm and fingers.
He moved behind me, adjusted my hips to the height he liked, spread my hairy butt wide so his cock could comfortably press against my hole, grabbed my hips and thrust in. Hard. My hole had become a connoisseur of fine cock recently. At another time it might have refused this one entrance, although in certain other circumstances these days, refusal wouldn't be an option, but here and now, my hole was so desperate for a plugging, this cock was the be-all and end-all of meat.
He started fucking me hard. I worked my ass muscles, squeezing and releasing his rod, giving him the best ride I could. Christ knows there'd been enough practice recently.
You know how when you're drowning your life is supposed to flash before your eyes? Well, I was pretty damned well drowning here...it's called the sea of stupidity...and what flashed through my mind was not my life. Well, not my original life, my safe, comfortable, always-knowing-what-the-fuck-is-what-and-what's-not, married-with-loving-wife-loving-daughters, hard-assed, ex-Marine, stud, Sex-Crimes-Unit-cop life. That ended a couple of weeks ago when my wife walked out, taking the kids, the furniture, and nearly all the money, leaving me a note about the coming divorce. Actually, the old life ended for sure as I slid my dick into the hot, tight, talented boy cunt of eight-year-old Charlie Graham. So what was doing all the flashing...an appropriate word, too, in the circumstances...was my new life. My three weeks, and two days old new life. The life of a pedo fag, or more precisely, as Harry would undoubtedly say, a homosexual pedophile with predilections for very young boys. And young teen boys. And men who wanted to use me.
That first time I was pretty well used. I had my first lesson in Water Sports 101, sucking down a little's boy's piss. Tongue-fucking 101 went very well, as I got to practice initially on Charlie, and then a little while later Eddy's teen hole, followed by Harry's hairy Asian hole. I passed my first examination in Cocksucking—a Practicum with flying colors, swallowing Harry's thick, salty load down into my formerly virgin throat. I only got an B+ in Introduction to Teen Fucking because of the somewhat loud and shrill sissy scream when Eddy punched his thirteen-year-old fairly thick meat into my ass, all the way, one-thrust-no-stopping boy balls deep, turning my formerly virgin shit hole into a greedy mancunt. I did very well, though, on all the rest of my freshman courses in how to properly accept a Chinese man's dick into my ass, how to fuck a tied-up teen who needed a pretend-rape to clear his head (and empty my balls again), and even got a A in pedo fucking. Charlie grades high I think, but he sure squealed a lot through a lot of dry cums before I filled his pussy with an incredible load of cum, fresh from the manufacturer's factory.
The sleep problem started two nights later with a late night (long day in the squad room) dinner with Senator Graham in his penthouse at the Harris Tower. Yeah, that Senator Graham. Mega-wealthy. Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee and the Armed Services Committee regardless of which party was in power; I'd heard he knew where so many bodies were buried he could easily repopulate Arlington National Cemetery if anyone exhumed them all, so he didn't have to give any "don't fuck with me, boys" Joan Crawford warnings. Possible power behind President Gore's throne. A devout family man. A major philanthropist. Patron of the arts. Upper-fucking-stratosphere crust.
And a pedo of the first water...whatever the fuck "first water" is.
A pedo who explained the facts of my new life over an elegant dinner. Candles, gold flatware (solid, I think, not plated, but what the fuck do I know), eight-hundred-or-something-year-old china, flowers, courses, servants serving the courses, the whole impress-the-dumb-Mick cop routine. Except...it really didn't feel that way. Of course, part of the reason it didn't feel condescending was, I'm sure, the oddities that went along with the dinner, things that I was fairly sure didn't happen at, well, state dinners at the White House, or fancy dinner parties wherever the elite of the world fancy dinnered. If there is such a word.
Things like the fact that the servants were all male. And naked. And young. Nine to eleven, maybe. An affirmative-action group. One black, one white, one Asian, one Latin, one Arab, one Indian. Native-American style, straight glowing black hair flowing past his shoulders, his two or three inch bare prick standing out stiff and straight from his body throughout the whole meal. Just like the others were hard, and stayed hard. I'd like to think it was my manly Marine-cop body and rugged good looks, but the soft humming coming from their assholes was more likely. A belt-and-strap gadget around your waist that keeps your kid cock and kid balls open and accessible, while still holding in the vibrator butt plug that fills your little pussy doesn't really count as clothes.
Things like having your dick fondled through your pants during the early part of dinner, by the little boy-waiters taking turns with your meat. And half way through, getting stroked by little boy hands because you've been unzipped and your cock hauled out by a pair of them. Your balls, too. While Senator Graham was getting the same treatment.
Things like the hand jobs progressing to blowjobs during the meal, though never to the point of cumming, damn it.
Things like the dinner conversation. Polite social conversation of the basically meaningless how-was-your-day variety until the Senator started telling me stories. About life as a wealthy pedo, though he never said it that way. The one story that stuck in my mind for days afterward, shit, daily afterward, was a party he'd recently attended at some unexplained location. The host had a 15-year-old son. A gorgeous boy. At one point in the evening the naked boy was bent over a low table while Senator Cameron Graham fucked his face. And industrialist Cameron Graham II power-fucked his ass, using the teen hole and teen tits roughly, almost viciously, just as the boy had begged him to do. And on the table was six-year-old Cameron the Third ("Cammie the Turd" his older brother Charlie sometimes called him), getting his hot little cunt fucked hard in rhythm to the teen's near rape.
That wasn't the only story he told, stories of the rich and famous and the tiny boy pussies and girl pussies they used, stories, too, of the neither rich nor famous, the ordinary men and women who shared these lusts. And that, he said, was the reason for our meeting. Sharing.
The table had been cleared except for coffee and brandy. Tried brandy once. I seriously considered washing my mouth out with soap after a swallow. Disgusting stuff. I'll stick with beer. So I asked him if he had any cold long-neck Bud around just when he was doing the inhale the brandy fumes in the funny-shaped glass before you drink crap. He didn't blink. "I somehow thought you might ask that, officer. Of course." He sent the black boy off, but he wasn't gone long enough to have been to the kitchen and back, hell, the kitchen was probably half a city block away, and that would still be in the condo. But there he was, carefully carrying a Bud on a tray. Black as the color black could possibly be on human skin, with a wide flat nose, plump lips around his wide mouth, corn row braids down to his shoulders, a plump belly, plump butt, and with the genuine larger-than-white boy cock thrusting straight out. In the silence I could hear the vibrator humming in his cunt.
Unlike the other boys, he walked with his eyes looking down. For a moment I thought the kind of slump as he walked was fear and I started to get angry. Yeah, I'm a pedo who fucks little boys and wants to fuck more of them, but nobody, but no-fucking-body hurts kids, and if the Senator... Then it hit me. His body language was...submissive.
The Bud was cold enough to have a slight touch of frost around the lips as I took the bottle from the tray he carried, lifted it, took a long swallow. Damned cold beer. But the kid's lips were nice and hot when he bent and used them to nibble my leaking knob. I dropped my hand to his head, as if caressing it, but my grip on his braided hair was just tight enough to be painful, even for a second. There was a faint shudder through his body and as he lifted his mouth from my meat, there was a murmured, "Please, massa," so soft, so begging, I wasn't even sure I'd in fact heard the words, rather than fantasized them.
The Senator waved the boys out of the room. Offered me a cigar from an engraved silver box. Fuck. It was a Morelle. Most expensive goddamn cigar in the world. When I was in the corps in Desert Storm, after a raid on the home of a high-ranking officer of the Republican Guard, my men and I...liberated...a small cache of them. The grunts who were too stupid to know what they were, were very willing to trade my share of what was liberated that day, plus a bit extra I tossed in from previous rescues, and I had them all to myself. Until a few high-ranking officers in the corps, the army, and one fucking navy captain heard about them. But I managed to claim one for myself, and didn't bother to tell them about the other I'd hidden well away. Practically had a fucking orgasm just from smoking the one I saved. So yeah, I knew all the fuck about sharing...sharing someone right out of what's rightfully his.
I lit up, leaned back, inhaled, exhaled toward the ceiling in a tight little circle that suddenly made me think of Charlie's cunt. Of course, every goddamn "o" on the printed page, on a computer screen, wherever, made me think of the same thing. I'd begun to feel that "o" was the president of the alphabet or something and so got to be used more than any other letter. I shut that line of thinking off, and said, "Glad to share your cigars and your beer, sir," raising my hands to salute him with both.
"Nothing is free, officer," he told me with an expansive wave of his own cigar. "You paid for your afternoon's delightful abuse of my grandson...the DVD was quite exciting...with your attempt to rescue him. You, of course, had no way of knowing that he loves getting sexed in public toilets, not only with strangers but with men he knows well. And intimately. Tom...the second Lowell in Lowell, Marbrook, Lowell and Kent...is one of my attorneys. He gets off on cruising the johns for men and boys, too.
"You paid for the privilege of raping Eddy...a cousin of Charlie's in some relatively convoluted fashion, though they appear to be closer in blood line than that...by actually rescuing the boy. A very powerful fuck, which Eddy clearly enjoyed given how much cum he pumped out. Harry, who is, by the way, an uncle by marriage to my grandsons, was most astute in recognizing where your real interests lay, and in organizing that afternoon here with such speed and such finesse.
"So, detective, you have done your civic duty, and a few private citizens have chosen to privately express their deep and sincere gratitude to you. Kid pro quo, perhaps?"
It was a shitty pun, but at the time it was worth at least a smile. He wasn't going to get more than that until he got wherever the fuck he was going with his lecture. He got there very quickly.
"But I fear, Eliot, that your currency reserves have been exhausted. You have neither a mark, a yen, a franc nor a pound, and money does indeed make the world go `round. Especially in the pedo world in which I move, and which I believe you most fervently desire to join. Oh, not actual currency. We'd never sell the little cunts. Well, no, that is not quite accurate. There are a couple of countries...ah, but that is neither here nor there at the moment. Where was I?"
The Senator had distracted himself for a moment, stroking his large, well-veined, slightly curved prick. An impressive nine-inch piece of meat. He smeared precum around his slit and knob end, making it glow in the candlelight. "Ah. Yes. Currency. And the principle of sharing. I have grandsons, Eliot. Charles, who is eight; Cameron who is six, darling Carroll, who is four, and of course little Chase, who is two. Very powerful and special currency for my son; somewhat less so, or less necessary, for me in that my age and status make me a desirable choice regardless of the four little ones, for when another man wants his son's or nephew's or grandson's or third cousin twice removed's boy pussy used and used well.
"Unfortunately, Eliot, you have no such valuable currency. No son. No nephews. No cousins. Not even, in a pinch, a young enough daughter. You're broke. Which naturally means that you cannot pay your way in my world, since you have nothing to share. And so your association with this world must regrettably end. Indeed, it has already ended. I am sure your memories will provide you with many pleasurable cums."
Good. Goddamn, but this fucker was good. I knew who he was; knew how powerful he was, but I'd only heard him speak at a rally once, voted for him then, and for some reason just kept on voting for him. Now I knew why. Damn that voice was good. But I wouldn't be so fucking good at my job, even if 90% of it was fucking mastiff grab hold by the throat and shake until something snaps, if I didn't have one or two fucking little grey cells in my head. There was a "but" coming. So all I gave him was a quiet, "May I take the cigar with me, or shall I just leave it in the ash tray?"
"Excellent, my boy, excellent. You heard the `but' coming, did you not?"
Normally I don't like older men who try the "my boy" shit on me. Pisses me the fuck off. But the Senator, well, there was something affectionate in the tone, almost fatherly. If that's what you call a man who gets off on fucking his own son and grandsons. I suspected he was about dad's age, too. Maybe even a bit older. Dad was twenty when I was born and I'm thirty-eight now. So I just nodded and let it pass.
"You do have some currency, though, Eliot. Possibly quite valuable currency, if sexing the boys and the shrink wasn't a one-time bust-your-cherry thing."
My cock. I could live with using my cock for coin. We were both still fully dressed, our cocks and balls out of our slacks. I looked at mine, firm and oozing again, and then back at the Senator. I smiled.
He smiled back, the kind of smile that told me I wasn't quite as smart as I thought I was. "Not just your cock, Eliot. You are the currency. All of you. You have no boys to share, to pay your way. You're not old enough to have your age be currency in and of itself. You're in that middle-aged pedo stage with only one way to pay, one thing to share.
"This is how it will work, Eliot. You will have access to many boys, some quite young, some older, as old or as young, in fact, as you find your hardon saying you're interested in sexing them. You may do anything you wish to them, use them as you please, with just a few requirements. The boy has to have already done whatever you're telling him to do, unless he is, happily for you, a virgin you are breaking in, and he decides to let you take that particular virginity of his. The boy can't tell you "no," unless it is something new, or if it is something that he fears or which will cause him undue pain."
He chuckled a little. "In your line of work, and testifying as often as you do, I am sure you appreciate the lawyerly distinction between pain and undue pain. If you exceed a boy's limits inadvertently, well, then, your penalty will be comparatively light. But there will be a penalty. You are, after all, the adult."
Then his voice turned cold and hard. Don Corleone hard. "If you intentionally or, as the lawyers say, with reckless disregard, harm one of the boys, the penalty will be severe. One might even say extreme. Whatever you did to the boy will be done to you, magnified several times over. Whether you survive, or the condition in which you will be if you do survive, is a matter of utmost indifference to us. Let me put it this way: Jimmy Hoffa's disappearance was no accident, and he will most assuredly never be found."
Okay. Fuck. I'm even more of a sick fuck than I thought. I just got told that if I hurt a little kid bad enough I could wind up dead, or alive but so crippled I'd be in pain the rest of my life, and my cock was still drooling. Not at the idea of the pain, but it was like a little kid bouncing up and down, and pleading for a treat. Promising never, never, never, never to hurt a little boy if he can only fuck their little mouths and their little asses. A lot.
I nodded. Fondled my meat. Fuck `em if he can't take a joke. Sucked on the cigar and blew a cloud toward the ceiling. Finished the Bud. "Got it. I get to fuck little boys, or fuck with them, any way I want, and if I fuck up, I'm either dead or severely damaged. What's the price?"
"You do as you're told, Eliot. If a man in our group, a teen, a boy, wants to use you, he can. Any way he wants. You don't get to refuse because he's not handsome enough, he's fat, his cock isn't big enough, his cock is too big, he's too old, whatever excuses you might use if you were out cruising a bar or a park or a toilet and someone wanted you but you weren't interested. The same rules apply to you as to the boys. If you have done it once, you can't refuse to do it again. You can refuse something new, something which you fear, something which will cause you undue pain. You can refuse if the time isn't right, which simply means that no one can tell you when to have sex. But once you agree it's time, then the rules begin to operate." He blew a cloud himself. Smiled. "Questions?"
"A couple." I started to reach for the Bud, realized it was empty, realized in the same instant that my "killer" cop instincts weren't so killer if a naked boy could come into the room, replace the Bud with a literally freezing cold bottle and I hadn't noticed. I took a sip. "So...what? You keep some sort of fancy computer thing, a database, whatever-the-fuck, and I buy a kiddy blow job with `x' number of blowjobs to men who want me? Kid pro quo, like you said?"
"Nothing so formal. We know obscenity when we see it, Eliot, even if we can't precisely define it. We will know, too, if you're not holding up your end of the bargain. Think of us as benevolent pedo Santas, we see you when you're sleeping, we see you when you're awake, we know if you've been bad...or very bad...or even very, very good."
I nodded and sipped the Bud. A fucking long day and with no food except the dinner just finished, I was getting just a bit of a buzz. Not enough to impair my judgment, of course. "And what if I see a man I want? Is my currency good for that as well?"
"Definitely. All the rules apply to all of us. Well, except one. No one uses him unless he chooses to be used. But then, he chooses to do so fairly often, and no one would...uh...quite dare to be offended if he declined, with or without reason. Now, Eliot, as Howie might say just before shoving his cock in hard: Deal or no deal?"
My cock had, of course, been screaming "Deal!" for some time, oozing slime in lieu of panting like a dog in heat. My other head agreed. "Deal."
"I thought you'd say that." The Senator stood up, his damned fine cock jutting out and slightly up. He stepped away from his place at the head of the table, gestured in front of him. "On your knees."
I smiled back at him. "I thought you'd say that." There was an answering glitter in his eyes, and then he shut them as he took another sip of brandy, waiting for his new cop cocksucker. I took another swig of the cold beer, stood, walked over, knelt, reached up to pull his cock down a bit, and engulfed his steely warmth in still cold beer.
I didn't know Senators yelped.
I swallowed the beer, along with my smile, and tried to swallow the Senator's cock. Harry's was a fine piece of meat and fitted my throat, and well fuck, my ass, pretty damned nice. But that hadn't prepared a near-virgin cocksucker like me for a cock at least as big as mine. I guessed I wasn't doing all that good a job, either, since the Senator put his hands on my head...work-roughened hands, surprisingly, instead of the man-of-megabucks softness I expected...and slowly slid his cock back out until my lips were just lightly wrapped around his knob.
"Open wide, detective."
Surprisingly hot, that tone. Fucking cop being used by a fucking politician. I could do head games with that. I did as he said, and glanced up as he rested the knob end on my tongue. Oh, fuck. He was using his left hand to hold the back of my head, his right hand to hold his cock like he was going to.... Oh, fuck.
"I like my urinal to hold very still, detective. And swallow it all unless I decide my urinal needs to be wetted down. You can do that, can't you, officer?"
No fucking way. I could refuse to do anything I'd never done before. And no goddamned man had ever pissed in my mouth. So he could just go...aw, shit. Charlie. Charlie'd pissed in my mouth. And I drank it down. Fucking enjoyed it, sick pedo fag that I am. And I bet if I asked him he'd say it didn't matter whether it was a man or a boy who did it to me first. I guess he must have seen the thoughts running across my eyes like the fucking Times Square neon sign.
That fucking did it. My dad was a beat cop; he'd fucking gun me down where I stood, well, fuck, where I kneeled, if he saw me...with Charlie and Eddy and Harry, with the Senator now, especially doing something as sicko fag perverted as this. But that voice, those words, turned me on so fucking much. My daddy was gonna piss my mouth. Use me as his fucking toilet. I moved my head forward so I could gently close my lips over his knob.
Bastard took me at my word, even though my word had been silent. No little spurt to let me taste a little. No quick flow, quickly cut off to let me get used to being a urinal. Fucker just let it rip. Hot, acrid, bitter, assaulting my taste buds, bulging my cheeks, giving me no choice but to either spew it out and forget boy cunts, lots and lots of willing boy cunts, or swallow it down. Of course I swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed and swallowed. Bastard politician hadn't pissed since Christmas two years ago. And when he was finally done, he did what every man does: held his prick, squeezed the last few drops out, and shook it a couple of times to flick them off into his urinal. Into my mouth and on my tongue.
Having him hold my head and start to fuck my face was no surprise. He was fuck-hard again in seconds. While I blew him, I played with his balls, fondled his cunt through his slacks, wondered briefly what it would be like to power fuck a powerful man like this, wondered if it was just my tits, or whether other men's were like that, reached up, played with his, felt them get hard, pinched them, smiled around the cock in my mouth at the excited Christ-yes! grunt that got.
My dick was liking the action. Oozing a steady stream, not even soft during my training-to-be-a-potty. And when he finally (finally!) came his cum was thick and somewhat bitter with each shot, and Christ there were enough of them, a separate lump that lodged in my mouth, coated tongue and teeth, and when he was done I cleaned up daddy's cock and like a good boy swallowed all that wonderful cum down.
My turn. My hand went to my meat, but the "No" stopped me.
"Get up, Eliot. Turn around, drop your slacks and underwear to your ankles, bend over the table, hold on hard and look in the mirror."
Fuck, yeah! I did what I was told and looked up into the huge mirror that ran almost the full length of the dining room table. Behind me I saw the Senator, still hard, still dressed, stroking his cock. Shit, if anyone had told me four days earlier that my asshole was as hungry for cock as a nympho's cunt, I'd have pounded the son of a bitch into a pulp. Now my gut tightened, and my man cunt, yeah, I'd fucking admitted that's exactly what I had back there, tightened and released. Senator Cameron Graham plowing his daddy meat into his cock whore son's cop ass. Fuck, yeah!
I closed my eyes for a second, to enjoy the fantasy. I don't know if the shock would have been any less if my eyes had stayed opened and watched his entrance, or as it was, opening them to the sight of him striding naked across the room, a hardening cock leading the way.
I was gonna get fucked by Kong.
My asshole was doing a West Side Story thing, singing "Tonight, tonight, my ass gets fucked tonight." My head was doing a different number, watching him approach with eyes I refused to let widen for any reason, surprise, awe, fear, whatever-the-fuck. His eyes were cold, harder than his cock at the moment, his lips pursed in an almost tuneless whistle as he obviously took in my now white-knuckled hands gripping the table edge, elbows braced wide, my legs as far apart as my pants would allow, my butt shoved out like some two-bit hooker looking for a quickie. Like I said, he had muscles for decades all over that six-eight, six-nine body, every fucking inch where muscles were possible, but somehow not the kind of bodybuilder-gone-berserk muscles. Hair that was thick and curly on his chest and down his...six-eight-twelve...pack abs into an even thicker jungle around the base of his cock, and swirling down over literally egg-sized balls, fucking triple-jumbo-sized-two-eggs-to-a-carton balls, hanging three or four inches below his meat. What my eyes were seeing was transmitted to my cunt which promptly segued into "Something's cumming": "Around that table, whistling makes me shiver, come on, deliver to me. Will it be? Yes, it will. Maybe just by holding still, cock'll be here."
Fucking wise-ass cunt. Fucking right. My head joined with my hole in wanting this. Especially now that I saw his dick. It wasn't the monster it might have been; it wasn't the thin five-incher from too many steroids. Closer to monster, but not all that close. About as thick as mine, maybe a bit smaller around. Almost hard and not as long as me. Fuck, yeah, I could take Kong up my cunt easy, have him give me his patented Fay Wray fuck ride, use my pussy.
He stopped by my left butt cheek. The Senator moved to my right, still stroking. I could feel the tip of Kong's cock resting on my ass. I watched him in the mirror, saw him step back so I'd be sure to see. Watched him use his right hand to partially curve around his meat and stroke.
My eyes did widen then. FUCK!
Think Pinocchio. With a growing cock for every lie. Kong musta been lying really fucking good inside his head because that cock just kept on fucking growing. And my ass cunt went into song-writing overdrive: "There's a place for that, right here a place for that, hot and willing, an open hole, waits for that, right here."
His smile was as cold as his eyes when his cock finally stopped growing; his voice was a rough baritone. "Ten and a quarter inches. Most men don't want to know, too afraid they'll freak out and run if they know how much meat is gonna get stuffed up their pussy asses. But I figure a pervert pedo cop who's letting men use his holes as piss and cum dumps would want to know what's about to be shoved up inside him."
He put two fingers in his mouth, slicked them up, leaned over and with no fucking foreplay rammed them up my hole. But I'd expected he'd pull a stunt like that so nothing came out of my mouth but the tiniest grunt. I watched both of them in the mirror. The glance from Kong that caused the Senator to lean over and suck on that fucking long piece of meat, and damn if he didn't nearly swallow the whole thing. The incredibly hot sight of him leaning over my ass and then, although I obviously couldn't see it, the feel of his tongue lapping at my hole and getting it wet.
He stepped up behind me. Put his foot between my legs and I could feel the boxers and slacks press against my ankles as his sole pressed them to the floor. "Step out of them, cunt, so you can spread your fucking legs."
It was a struggle getting them off since his tone made it clear he wasn't going to let me stand up and do it the normal way. But with my asshole screaming at me to stop fucking around and get to it, I managed. Spread my legs wider until he was satisfied my pussy was at the height he wanted. I wondered if the Senator had hidden cameras here, too. Fucking blew my mind to know I was the star of a pedo porn DVD. Would it be hot watching a cop wearing only a dress shirt and tie, and black socks and black cop dress shoes bent over the dining room table in a rich man's home getting his ass fucked by Kong's younger brother? Yeah, I could jack to that.
So could the Senator.
Kong gripped my side tightly with his left hand, used his right to guide his meat to my hole, pushed it in so my ass lips were kind of opening up around it, grabbed my side with his right hand, and then punched it in. I kept it to a loud grunt. He paused only a moment and then shoved his hips forward. If I hadn't been braced so well I'd've split my fucking skull open banging it on the table. As it was, I couldn't help the "Oh Christ fuck!" that bellowed out of me when he was all the way in.
I barely managed to hang on for the fucking ride. All the things Harry had taught me to do, all the stuff about using my ass muscles to make it better for the man or boy fucking me just vanished. Calling me a goddamn cum pig whore slut fucking pussy bitch was the nicest thing he said in a fuck that went on and on and fucking on. My hole was a fucking wide open tunnel repeatedly filled with the pipe used for the Alaska pipeline. Or maybe it was the sewer pipe they were installing on Fifth. I got one look in the mirror at my face, sweat pouring down it onto the linen tablecloth, eyes glazed, mouth gaping and drooling, and then up toward him...and caught him looking at me. The look of contempt was so searing that I shut my eyes, bowed my head, barely felt the spit that landed on the back of my neck. The fuck got harder and faster until I figured my insides were complete mush, and that I'd have to give the fuck up and beg him to stop.
The bastard shit prick fucker stopped.
I'd managed not to say anything, although my grunts and moans must have told him he had my fucking body vibrating with lust, and he just...fucking...stopped!
I opened my eyes. Raised my head. Christ, who the fuck hung a twenty pound weight around my neck? Looked in the mirror. Watched him watching me with all that meat buried up my cunt, my sure-to-bruised waist gripped tight by those massive hands. I growled at him, loud and rough and hard, staring him right in the eyes, "Fuck me, Kong! You fucking bastard. Breed my pussy ass!"
Sam. His goddamned name was Sam. I don't know which of us was more surprised.
Then his face got all shuttered and cold and he did what I said. I hadn't known that obscenities could be used to fuck your soul while dick was fucking your hole. Didn't know whether he meant what he said or whether it was just role playing, didn't much care as I shriveled up inside, while my dick stayed hard and leaking. For an instant, when he leaned over and twisted my tits so hard I was sure I was in the sex equivalent of an electric chair and about to have my cock short out and die, I was a mindless fuck whore cum dump whose only use was as a place for a real man to get rid of some cum. That's when he gave a final lunge that nearly shoved my belly into the edge of the table. Swear to fucking God I thought I was gonna taste his cum pumping out of my mouth he was in so deep.
And then he yanked his still hard meat out of my hole. I would have yelped but refused to give him the satisfaction. Refused, too, to give him the satisfaction of sagging, or worse yet, dropping to my knees and resting my forehead against the table while cum leaked out of my abused and very well-fucked hole.
"Clean me up, Cam," Kong ordered, and the Senator eagerly bent over and licked and slurped the cum and ass juices off that still-hard piece of meat. "Give the cum pig a fuck, Senator. Might as well find out if his pussy gets all loose and sloppy after just one fuck."
Prick. I squeezed my ass tight.
The Senator smiled at me in the mirror. Fuck, was he looking right at my cunt when I tightened it up? He'd removed his pants and stepped up behind me but I straightened up, without the stagger I expected. I turned around to face them, and relaxed my ass against the table. Really relaxed my ass. I could feel that huge load of cum oozing out on the fancy tablecloth. "Was that enough of a deposit in the cum bank to get me a boy?"
"I wondered...if...when...you were going to ask."
I smiled back at him, stroking my oozing sticky meat. "Kind of wondered myself. I kind of think getting used, though, is gonna be a sideline to the main attraction."
The Senator matched me stroke for stroke. "Which one?"
"The nigger kid."
Shit! Where the fuck did that come from? I opened my mouth to apologize, but the Senator cut me off. "Very perceptive, Eliot. How did you know?"
Know? Know? Know the fuck what? I'd just called a little boy a nigger and that's all he had to say? The fucking champion of civil rights in this country, who was so politically correct it appeared he was incapable of even thinking such a word, much less using it about or to a child, and he doesn't even blink?
He raised his voice just slightly, but his was a voice that could fill a theatre without a microphone, so he only had to raise it a little to be heard from one end of the penthouse to the other. His tone was suddenly curt, arrogant. "Kitwana! Get your nigger ass in here."
The black boy suddenly appeared at the end of the room, running toward us, almost skidding to a stop, to stand next to the half-naked Senator with the slime-oozing cock, and the naked cop on the table with his well-filled cunt oozing Kong slime.
The Senator's voice was cold and arrogant. "The cop here wants to use your nigger holes."
"Yassuh." The boy's voice was soft, submissive, his thick lips barely moving.
Christ! If a man ever had a fantasy about owning a nigger slave, having the absolute right to humiliate him, fuck him, use his nigger however he liked, this boy was going to fulfill it. The tone was every "yowsah, boss" nigger voice that had ever been, in the movies, on TV, in books, wherever. And it turned out I was one of those men who got off on it, got off on the whole fucking fantasy. I'd found some stories on the Net by a guy who wrote about white men subduing niggers, thug boys, employees, punks off the street, forcing them to submit to his white man's authority and white man's cock, turning them out, turning them into black pussy bitches, eager to be used by a new white master. Found them and cum to them, and felt shame and lust while I was spurting. And now I was fucking gonna live out that fantasy...not with a nigger man, not with a nigger teen, but with a little nigger cunt boy who already had a vibrating dildo up his hole.
God, I was sick.
I didn't give a fuck.
I was gonna get fucked up my cum-leaking whore ass by a powerful politician. But by God I was gonna have my dick up nigger boy cunt at the same time.
"The nigger's name means `slave boy,' detective, in whatever jungle bunny language they speak back where he came from. I bought him from his father when he was five. A little older than I like to start, but his father assured me he was a virgin in every hole. He was, indeed. Howled when I took his cherry nigger pussy, didn't you, boy?"
Jesus fucked, and wept while he did it. What a fucking image. A nigger boy barely old enough to understand that he'd been sold to a white man to be a fuck toy, screaming when his boy cunt was forced open by the Senator's meat, whimpering as the pain went away, and then as the Senator long-dicked him, so that the pink of his ass lips was bright against his butt when the Senator pulled all the way out and slammed in again, murmuring and later howling again in his nigger native tongue, his voice pleading, begging to be fucked long and hard even though he had no English words to beg with.
I had a nigger slave boy, even if it was only for a little while. Whether he had really been bought, or was just playing a role was unimportant. It was enough that I could believe it in my lust.
I made my nigger slave get up on the table, on his back in the puddle of man seed that had dripped out of my hole. A good nigger cunt boy, well trained. He raised his legs and spread them wide, holding them up while I fumbled for a second with the belt and straps that kept the buzzing dildo inside him, managed to get them loose, and then yanked the dildo out of his ass. His hole stayed wide open for a moment before it began to slowly close. Another day, another time, I would have leaned over and eaten his ass, damn but I'd come to love eating a little boy's hole, but right now I had better things to do. Like punishing every fucking nigger I'd ever come into contact with.
Just by fucking me some hot slut slave nigger boy cunt.
My cock was definitely bigger than the dildo, and I didn't spare him. I rammed him, hard and fast and deep and he grunted, then whimpered and then cried out. That one was for the arrogant nigger pimp who'd raped and strangled one of his whores only he walked because of a technicality. At least I figure punching him to get his attention and a confession was a technical flaw in due process. The next stroke in that hot tight black pussy was for the nigger who'd abducted, tortured and killed three little girls. Hopefully he was getting his own nigger cunt plowed good and hard, maybe right then, since guards and cons don't take real kindly to child molesters.
It was on one of the out-strokes that the Senator grabbed my hips, held me still and plunged his own meat inside of me. My own cunt was grateful for the attention, sending shivers of lust racing around my body.
I was in fuck hog heaven. My dick buried in nigger boy cunt, my own cunt being used by a powerful politician. I looked down at the slave boy's fat lips, imagining my cock fucking his face hole. I started fucking him harder.
"Yeah, you fucking nigger slave cunt. You like white man cock up your boy pussy, you fuckin' little jungle bunny scum whore?"
The boy was writhing with the sensations of a fat eight inch dick plowing his pussy, but he managed a soft, whimpering, "Yassuh, massa, I'se yo nigger boi ho."
Oh Christ oh fuck oh fuckin' yeah!
"Fuck me, massa! Fuck yo nigger boi ho, pump yo fat dick in my hot nigger pussy."
I couldn't help myself, didn't the fuck want to, either. I just started power fucking the boi cunt. Held him in place with a heavy grip on his shoulders. Didn't fucking care whether he enjoyed it or not, though he must've since he went through a couple of cums and there was a lot of fucking wailing and pleading with me to fuck his slave pussy. Fucking Senator could just go along for the ride. Damned if he didn't. Reached the finish line first, too, filling my ass with splash after splash of hot cum, which sent me over the edge, and the slave boy as well.
While I leaned over the table, resting my weight on my forearms, panting, the Senator slid his cock out of my well-fucked hole. I imagined my cunt gaping wide, then slowly starting to close as two loads of man cum started to ooze out and slide down to my balls. The gaping wide was right, but the starting to close was way fucking off. No chance to. Kong just stepped up, punched his meat in my hole and fucked me again.
He used me while the fucking got my dick stiff again, and I drifted off in a fog as my pussy got reamed by Kong cock and my own cock was sliding in and out of young nigger boy cunt, and then everybody was cumming again. Including the Senator shooting a thick load all over my back. I figured Kong would pull out so I started to pull back from the boy cunt, but Kong held me in place and then I felt more warmth inside me. Christ, he was pissing in my hole!
Felt fucking good.
Not so fucking good when Kong told me to hold the piss in my cunt until I got home.
I tried. Fuck did I try.
I almost lost it when, after we'd all pulled out, pulled apart, the nigger kid, still in the "yes, massa" mode that got my dick twitching again, cleaned off all of our cocks, and even had a little drink of piss and cum right out of my ass. Naturally there wasn't any of the lovey-dovey shit you have to go through when you've just fucked a woman. I got my clothes on, holding my hole tight. Kong and the Senator redressed. I slid the vibrator back inside the little nigger's cunt, refastened the belt, and then turned the vibrator on high and fucked him to another cum with it.
A little while after that I was out of the Tower, back on the street, heading through the post-midnight darkness to the subway. The station was empty except for one nig...black security guard. And by the time I got there I knew that Kong orders or no Kong orders there was no fucking way I was going to keep all that piss and cum inside me with the vibrations of a subway ride, especially if I sat down, and then there was the walk from the station to my house. By the time I walked to the end of the platform where the guard was I was in fucking agony. The men's room was locked and I knew the guard didn't have a key. Fuck!
So I flashed my badge, told him I was investigating a recent crime and stepped off the platform onto the walkway that hugged the wall of the tunnel. For obvious reasons there weren't a lot of lights and some of them had burnt out and not been replaced, but I could see well enough. Fingertips touching the rough wall beside me for balance and guidance I carefully walked down the tunnel until it curved to my right and I was out of view of the platform. I couldn't walk forever or the guard would get suspicious, but fuck, there had to be an alcove or something I could squat and dump in.
There wasn't. And I could feel a tiny leak starting in my hole even though I was squeezing the muscles tight as hard as I could. Okay. No fucking choice. Plan fucking B. Which didn't exist until my fingertips hit the rusted steel rungs of a ladder running up the wall into the darkness overhead. To what, I had no fucking idea. But it gave me a plan. I stood facing the ladder, unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped, shoved slacks and boxers to my ankles. Bent. Grabbed one of the lower rungs with my right hand, shuffled back until my heels were just at the edge of the walkway, then carefully squatted so my naked lily-white ass, thankfully "covered" by the darkness, hung out over the edge. There was a split second of panic at the thought of my piss shooting out to hit the electrified middle rail and an arc of electricity frying not only my ass, balls and cock but the rest of me, but sheer fucking agony overcame the panic. I used my left hand to force my half hard cock between my thighs so it was aimed down toward the bottom of the tunnel and the piss wouldn't splash on me.
The relief from my ass spewing out Kong's piss and the three loads of cum, and my cock pissing all the beer I'd drunk, lasted, oh, about one ten-millionth of a half second. What changed was the goddamned light shining on my fucking naked white ass hanging out over the edge of the walk shitting cum and piss. The fucking guard's fucking flashlight. The one that was about as bright as all the fucking lights together for a night football game at the fucking Giants Stadium.
"That piss comin' outa yo ass, detective?" The guard's voice was deep and echoed a bit in the tunnel.
Like he couldn't the fuck see? Smell? Fuck he was close enough. I kept my mouth shut, finished pissing out of both holes, bounced my cock a couple of times with the fingers on my left hand...had to get all the piss off, couldn't risk staining anything...and then pulled myself up. All the while the fucking black...shit, the fucking nigger bastard was shining his friggin' spotlight on me.
Fuck him. I shuffled forward, you know, the pants-around-the-ankle shuffle walk, turned away from him, and leaned over to grab my underwear and pants and pull them up. I didn't get much beyond grabbing them, though. Not before I felt a very large, callused hand on my ass, with one finger working the edge of my hole.
"You a dumb white mothafucka if you don't know you in deep shit, man. Naked cop flashin' a security guard, droppin' his pants and pissin' in public outa both his ass `n his dick. You gonna be lucky to stay on the job when I get through with mah report. `n the pictures of yo ass when I haul it in. Yeah, `n the pics ah just took with mah cell. Yo buddies at yo precinct gonna love them."
The tips of his first two fingers were playing with my hole. I spoke up. "Unless?"
I could hear the smug grin in his voice. "Figger if yo ass sprayin' piss, you had some dick up there t'night. That figgering get me a promotion, you think?"
He forced his two fingers inside my kind of raw cunt, shoved them all the way in. "Shee-it, cop, you sure had mo `n shit up here tonight. How many dicks?"
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He yanked his fingers out and his hand slapped me on the back of the head. Hard. "How many dicks in yo' white pussy, cop?"
"And?" The second hit was even harder than the first. Fighting him, and I thought I could probably take him, would've made the chances of my getting out of the mess with my job and my life intact, about on par with the chances of, oh, getting the reward for capturing bin Laden by waiting for him to walk in my front door some evening and surrender to me.
"They both came in my ass, and then the first one fucked me again, and after he was finished, pissed in my hole." The "there, are you fucking satisfied?" was only present in my tone.
"Damn, mothafucka, so ah'm gonna be sloppy thirds in yo' ass t'night, huh?" Then the nigger bastard shoved his first two fingers back inside me, and curled them upwards like a hook and tugged my ass upright.
That's when his flashlight became irrelevant.
The train had just pulled into the station and the headlights slashed down the tunnel, bouncing off the far wall and splashing further on. The reflected glow, had anyone been there to see...as there would be very shortly when the train went by...would have seen an SCU cop naked from the waist down with nigger security guard fingers hooked in his asshole.
My hole burned; it was sore and raw from the fucking and the piss and his fingers.
My hole wanted his cock inside.
So did I.
I twisted to look at him. The flashlight was off, dropped in the loop on his belt. His cock and balls were out of his pants. Not the humongous nigger cock of all the porn, not as long as mine, but definitely thicker. Large balls in a sack that hugged the base of his meat. A tilt of his head showed he'd seen my cock...definitely hard.
"I see you're up for this. Face the wall. Grab a ladder rung with your right hand."
"You're out of your fucking...."
"You want to get caught or you want your ass fucked?"
Given a choice like that, what's a man slut to do?
I turned to my right, reached out at shoulder level to grab the rung, used my left hand to hold my cock up against my belly and pressed myself against the wall, my head turned left, my right cheek against the concrete. My left arm was stretched out trying to find something to grab on. And then he was behind me, his right hand on my shoulder just briefly as he used it for balance; he bent his knees, used his left hand to guide his dick between my ass cheeks and then surged upright, fucking his meat into my raw, aching hole in one hard thrust. The thrust shoved me against the wall, hard, and I could feel bits and pieces of dirt, and grease, and whatever accumulates on the subway tunnel walls over decades of use, pricking into my cock and balls and right cheek and ear, the whole damned side of my face, the palm of my left hand, hundreds of fucking needles of tiny pain. Behind me was a nigger with his dick up my hole, holding it there while he reached out, found my right hand, covered it with his, entwined our fingers, did the same with his left hand.
He could kill us both. If his ass was as fat as his cock, and stuck too far over the edge of the walk, the train could clip us, yank us off, mangle us. I should fight him off, get his dick out of my ass, get dressed, get away. All before the train started up and came by. Shit piss fuck!
I couldn't believe how turned on I was.
We heard the recorded voice telling everyone to clear the doors; we heard the train start, felt the vibrations. Jesus fucking Christ the vibrations. Every fucking nerve in my body was tingling as the train started to gather momentum, came around the curve, the headlights day bright against us for a moment and then they were gone. Did the engineer see? What did he see? A guard pressed against the wall with his arms spread wide to avoid being hit? Two men fucking? The train picked up speed, the lighted windows flashing by, bored passengers barely seen at the edge of my vision, some blankly staring themselves, reading, talking, listening to ear-plugged music or whatever, doing all the things subway riders did. And the vibrations kept on building. The bastard was fucking me without either of us moving. The vibrations, the stress, I couldn't fucking believe how fast I was building to another cum, despite believing my balls had been well-emptied earlier.
And then the train was gone and the guard stayed where he was, holding me in place against the wall while he humped my hole hard and fast and deep and in seconds I felt an almost endless stream of cum filling me. That was enough for me to mutter, just barely preventing myself from screaming the news out loud to whoever might still be on the platform, that I was getting fucked and that I was, I was, jesusshitholyfuckingmotherofgod cumming! My ass clamped tight on his dick, pulling the last drops of cum out of him as I made a glorious mess of my belly, my shirt, my tie, and the fucking tunnel wall.
We stood there, panting, in almost complete darkness, and then he slowly slid his dick out of my hole. I figured we were done, that maybe my inner slut was finally satisfied for the night.
Not quite. He backed away from me, gave me some support as I peeled myself, wincing slightly, away from the wall, turned away from him again and again presented my ass as I bent over to get my boxers and pants. Without a word, he placed large, gentle hands on my ass cheeks, and his thumbs spread them. I could feel, even though I couldn't see, him kneeling behind me and then I felt his lips and tongue on my raw cunt, licking and lapping and slurping, easing the hurt, making me relax so all his cum was sucked out of my hole. When he was done, he got up, and he must've been putting his cock and balls out of sight again because when I turned around, my own pants neatly belted in their proper location once again, I could see his outline and some of his features as my eyes got some night vision back.
I started to say something as I moved toward him, but he didn't back away or turn around to head back to the platform. Instead he reached out, put a hand behind my head and pulled me to him, our bodies, our fronts, as close together as my ass and his cock had been moments ago, and then he kissed me. I opened my mouth to tongue fuck his, let him tongue fuck me, and share his cum. When we were done, he said quietly, sincerely, "Man, you are one hell of a stud fuck. I wish we could do that again."
I blinked. Blinked again. Caught on to the change in grammar, change in voice. Smiled though he probably couldn't see it; hoped he could hear the smile in my words. "Yeah, I am, aren't I? And so do I. And damn, but you have that dumb nigger thing down pat, don't you?"
His turn to chuckle. "People expect a nigger rent-a-cop in the subway; that's what I give `em. None of their damned business if I'm getting a law degree and this pays the bills."
"Damn. You mean I just got my brains fucked out by a college grad nigger rent-a-cop lawyer wannabe? Holy shit, I'm so fucking honored." He heard my teasing. I reached between us, groped the still-noticeable bulge. "How soon's the next train?"
"Enough time for you to fuck my face and cum again?"
I opened his belt, unsnapped, unzipped, forced his briefs and pants down past his knees. He gave that little dance men do when they're trying to get their pants all the way to their ankles so they can start the blowjob or the fuck. I was already on my knees, my hands grabbing his muscular ass. I was new to all this cocksucking shit, but my mouth was already as big a whore as my cunt. It didn't take more than a couple of bobs before my throat opened enough for his thickness to glide in, and my nose was buried in his pubes. I inhaled the raw smell of my ass, his cum, sweat, raunchy man stink, and lapped the underside of his dick with my tongue.
While I sucked I rubbed my index and fuck finger in his ass trench, working his raunchy, slick hole, brought them back and under my nose so I could smell his crotch and his asshole at the same time. Fuck that turned me on. Pausing from cock sucking, getting a taste of his ass from my fingers, getting them wet and then shoving them up his hole while I went on sucking, well, that turned us both on. Then the bastard made me work for his cum, holding back for almost the entire ten fucking minutes until we could feel the distant vibrations of the next train arriving at the station, and then he fucked my mouth hard and gave me my cum reward. Christ, from the size of his second load in ten, fifteen minutes, I couldn't wait to get a chance at his first fucking load. I'd probably die a happy death by drowning in his cum.
We got our shit together and quietly exited the tunnel. The driver's eyes widened when he saw us come around the curve, and then he very pointedly looked at our crotches, which were well-illuminated by the train headlights. He gave us a wicked grin, a thumbs up, and obviously groped his own meat. We smiled back. I managed to get in the first car, and headed home, but not before I gave the guard my card and told him my home number.
Then there was Saturday. And Charlie's soccer game. So I offered to come along and root for him. Hoping, of course, to root him later. Maybe in the toilet where we first met. When I stopped by the Tower to pick him up, though, he wasn't alone. Tom, the lawyer he'd been sucking that first day, was with him, and so was Cam. Instant hard when they got into the car, partially because Tom was already stiff, with his long cock snaking down his tight shorts. Fuck, we weren't even past the Tower gates before Cam was nuzzling and slurping Tom's dick, and Charlie was playing with mine. Of course the little prick teasers didn't let us cum.
Charlie's team lost, unfortunately, although Tom and I were practically hoarse from cheering our hot little boy cunt on, and the rest of the team as well. As everyone began to drift away toward the exit, pretty much like that first day, Charlie made his way to us. And he had another boy with him. Tom and I exchanged what-the-fuck looks over little Cam's head, and did our best to force our hardons down into just a bulge.
The boy was a little taller than Charlie, a lot more hefty, round face, round belly, round ass straining his soccer shorts, dark brown hair, brown eyes that quickly looked up at us and then down again. Shy, I guessed, but how anyone could be shy around Charlie, or his slut brother Cammie, was beyond me. When they reached us, Charlie looked up at Tom and me, and said, "This is Thomas. He has to take a leak but his mom has heard some stories about perverts in the woods, so she doesn't want him to go in the john up there alone. I said you guys would take him in, `n she looked kinda funny, but once I explained that you guys were me `n my brother's lawyer and bodyguard, she said that was okay."
Charlie definitely twinkled at me on the last. "Thomas, this is the family lawyer, Tom, and this here's Eliot. He guards our bodies. Real good."
With a look that told Charlie I'd get him for this, I held out my hand for Thomas to shake. Tom did the same, though I think he held on just a little too long. We waved at his mother, and then began walking up the hill. No one said anything, but I was kind of pissed. My dick was pissed, too. He'd been looking forward to sliding into some hot warm pussy, whether mouth or ass he wasn't particular right now. Which would kind of be a fucking problem in a cruisy john with an extra kid whose mother was waiting for him, and who might decide we were perverts after all, well, shit, we were, and come charging in here any second.
Charlie and Cam were walking beside me, each one holding a hand. So I guess it was only natural for Thomas to reach up and hold Tom's hand, look up at him and say something. Yeah, natural in what fucking universe? A ten or so year old boy holding the hand of a man he just met? When I'd been ten I'd be damned to hell before I'd let anyone think I was some wimpy little kid who needed to hold onto any adult's hand, even my dad's. Natural, too, for Tom to reach in front of himself with his left hand and adjust his cock and balls? Because that was clearly what he was doing even if he and the fat little boy were a few steps ahead of us so I couldn't actually see. But a man knows when another man is playing with...er...adjusting himself. And he was obviously saying something back to the kid and the kid nodded. And adjusted himself.
And then we were out of the sunlight and into the darkness of the toilet. I inhaled through my nose. Damn! I sure the fuck loved the smell of cruisy toilets. Definitely hardon making. Except I had to be sure it didn't, given Thomas' presence. Well, shit, thinking about the hardon I couldn't have made me miss what Charlie said. Something about Thomas needing to piss? Well, duh. Wasn't that why he was tagging along? No, that wasn't quite right. I shut my eyes and replayed the actual words. Well, fuck. I'd added one. Charlie just said "Thomas needs piss."
My eyes popped open. Well, fuck, indeed.
My mind must have been on autopilot while Charlie guided me to the doorless stall...with the huge fucking gloryholes, one to the other stall and one to the urinal trough. Tom was seated on the stool, his jeans around his ankles, his legs spread wide, and the fat boy was kneeling, naked from the waist down, between Tom's legs, crouched low so he could get his mouth around the head of Tom's more than half hard dick.
"Thomas likes piss."
Well, jeez, Charlie, what a fucking surprise considering the way he was obviously gulping it down, fresh and hot from the source. "You think?"
Charlie snickered. "Most of us don't use the toilets at school, if Thomas is around. But he's never drunk a man's piss before, well, except for his daddy's, and he wanted to try, so I said I maybe knew someone who might be here today."
Charlie's smile got positively wicked. " `n I told him if I introduced him to my lawyer—" Christ, one kid talking about introducing his lawyer to the other kid and both of them acting like it was fucking normal for kids to have lawyers, well, fuck, maybe in their world it was "—that he should politely say he'd never drunk a lawyer's piss before, and could he please?"
Which was just what the little boy was doing, his left hand ruthlessly jacking his dick, making the flesh around his waist and those fat butt cheeks jiggle and wobble. I'd like to make those cheeks jiggle and wobble...with a fat dick plunging in and out of them. Christ what a turn on to bury your dick in a little boy's hot hole, and then have folds of fat from his ass cheeks grab your meat as you slid out and back in again. I had my hand on my crotch when Tom said, "Your turn."
Tom had slipped off his sandals, so he just stepped out of his shorts, bent, picked them up, and moved out of the way. No way was I going to miss this. I edged around the boy, unbuttoned my 501's, and plopped my ass down. The seat was still a little warm from Tom's ass, and I could almost feel the other asses that had warmed it as they sucked dick through the gloryholes, or rested their hands on it while they got plowed. Which was doing great for the hardon, but not so great for pissing. And I did need to piss.
Thomas knelt there with his lips wrapped around the head of my dick, not sucking, just waiting, passive, though not submissive like the nigger fuck boy the Senator let me use. Well, screw that sensitivity training course. I softened enough to let loose, and the boy began swallowing it eagerly, letting it fill his mouth until his cheeks bulged and then gulping. And he drained me of every fucking drop.
He swiveled on his knees so he could do the same for Charlie, who was standing in the doorway, while I played with his hole. I sucked on my fuck finger to get it wet and then worked it into piss boy's tight little hole. Fucking kid was probably a virgin and no goddamned time to change that. Then it was Cammie's turn, and damn but that kid pissed like a racehorse. Longer than either me or Tom. What, did he have a Clydesdale bladder or something in that skinny little body?
Thomas stood up...he definitely needed to leave before his mother got to wondering what was going on between her precious son and two strange men, lawyers and bodyguards though they might be...but before he could pull up his shorts, Cammie was down in front of him, sucking and slurping avidly on the plump boy meat, and Charlie was behind him, eating his ass, and within a couple of seconds he started to shake. Charlie lifted his face away from the fat butt and said, "He screams" before burying his face between those sweet cheeks. Tom moved quickly and clamped a hand over the boy's mouth as his whole body shook in a dry cum, all that flesh rippling and heaving as several loud squeals tried to get past Tom's fingers. And then he was done.
He sagged for just a second, but managed to get himself upright and pull his shorts on, tuck his shirt in, and suddenly looked just like a little boy who'd done nothing more than get escorted to a potentially child molester-ridden toilet, have a fine piss, and start back to his mother. As he turned the corner to leave he took something out of his shirt pocket, followed by a crinkle of cellophane, and then he put it in his mouth.
"Mint," Charlie whispered, looked up at me and smiled. "So his mom won't smell the piss on his breath. His daddy taught him that."
Jesus. Mint-flavored piss. What would they think of next? And what would the boy's mother think when he came back down the hill alone?
Mind-reader Charlie knew the answer. Thomas was going to tell his mother only one toilet was working, so they had to take turns, and the lawyer and the bodyguard were waiting to bring back the Graham boys so they (Thomas and mother) could just go on home.
Which left a half-naked lawyer and a half-naked cop in a smelly john, but with oozing hardons, and two expert cocksucking little boys. Who knew precisely how to solve that problem. The first grade cocksucker stood in front of me and started in on my meat; the third-grader knelt and started on Tom's. At first I just concentrated on the expert deep-throating I was getting from Cam. I hadn't been sucked...yet...by his father or grandfather, so I didn't know if that talent ran in the family, but given Charlie's deliciously hot and agile throat, and now the same from his next younger brother, I pretty much figured it did. Then I glanced to my left and saw Tom holding tight to the sides of Charlie's face and actually fucking his mouth pussy, using the boy just like he'd started to do before I interrupted that day.
I chuckled at the memories, and Tom looked over. "What?"
I put my own hands around little Cammie's head to hold him in place while I used his mouth for a good fuck. "Just remembering what I thought when I was bringing Charlie out of the john that time."
An eyebrow lifted, asking.
I shook my head bemusedly. "I was doing the cautious cop routine. For some reason I thought you might be outside waiting to jump me, and then you were gonna grab Charlie and haul him off into the woods, find a clearing with a log, yank his soccer shorts around his knees, bend him over and fuck the shit out of him, and then leave him there for anyone else who might come along."
Tom moaned. "Oh, fuck yeah. There is a clearing like that. You wanna do something about your fantasy?"
"Boys, you wanna get your hot little ass cunts fucked in the woods?"
There was a moment's hesitation. Hell, I would have hesitated, too. A cock in the mouth is worth a promised two in the bushes. But as much as they liked sucking pricks, they liked getting dicked even more. With a final quick slurp, they let us go and stood/straightened up. Tom and I fought with our cocks until we could get them indecently covered again, no fucking way the highly visible hardons could be called decent.
Five minutes later we were in my fantasy fuck clearing, two hot little boy cunts bent over a log, with two horny men, a pervert cop, pervert lawyer, plowing their moist pussies. I'd had Cam's mouth before, but this was my first time in his cunt. He was everything he advertised. So fucking hot to be in the woods, close to a man fucking a little boy, so close you could feel the heat from his body, so close you could both exchange glances at each other and down at the long hard man dicks plunging in and out of tight boy twat. But this was risky and we all knew it so Tom and I started fucking the kids faster.
The "oh, God," was so soft I almost didn't hear it. But I did. We weren't alone. I nudged Tom with my right elbow, and he stopped fucking, too, though both of us stayed deep in the little holes. Since there'd been no cop-speak and no yanking the disgusting child molesters out of their victims' rectums, it was probably someone turned on by what he was seeing. Another faggot cruising for adult cock and getting more than he bargained for.
Tom and I looked over our shoulders.
It was an old man. Definitely old. Older than dad, than the Senator. Probably middle seventies, maybe older. Almost bald with just a few wisps of hair. Rimless glasses, blue eyes. Average height, average weight, wrinkled, sagging skin, and an age-spotted right hand grasping the stiff dick thrust out of his flies, pulling the foreskin back over the bright red head of his cock as he watched us, wide-eyed.
He moved a step closer and gasped. I guess that's when he realized we weren't fucking other men or the teens who sometimes cruise the paths looking for man sex. We were fucking little boys. Very, very young little boys. His next reaction surprised the hell out of me, and Tom told me later, out of him, too.
The old man said, "Boys, are you all right? Should I get help?"
Shit. He thought we were, well, we might be, raping two little boys and even though he was turned on by what he saw, and a little spurt of precum confirmed he was, he was still willing to offer to get help. Despite the fact that the two men doing the fucking were obviously young enough and big enough to pound the shit out of him if he tried.
"Oh, no, we're fine!" Charlie piped up.
He and Cam started wiggling, so we dropped back on our haunches, our dicks still half inside their holes. Fuck that'd be a nice picture to have. The boys were now able to get a good look at the old man, and Cam squealed, "Ohhhh. Grampa dick!"
The boys didn't have much room to maneuver, but they managed to make their intent known. We pulled our dicks out, and they stood up, stepped out of their shorts and rushed over to the old man. I'm surprised he didn't have a fucking heart attack when a half naked eight year old and a half naked six year old started playing with his cock and balls. Or when Charlie pushed his little brother aside and swallowed the old man's thin dick. Cam was playing with the man's balls while Charlie sucked. But Cam got his back. Looking up at the old man with those devastating eye of his, he asked, "Wanna fuck my pussy? It's nice `n slick `n real tight. Isn't it, Eliot?"
The old man didn't say anything as he looked over at me. I nodded to confirm how nice `n slick `n tight Cam's pussy was, especially since I'd just been in there and would really like to get back, thank you very much. He stretched his hands out like he was going to put them on Charlie's bobbing head, looked at us, still uncertain what the fuck was going on. It was Tom's turn. "Go ahead, he likes his mouth fucked."
The old man gave in. He fucked Charlie's mouth, while Cammie played with his balls. Then he stopped. Looked down at the six year old. "Did...did you really mean that?"
Cammie nodded eagerly. "Oh, yeah. I like grampa dick in my boy pussy. Lots. I don't have a great-grampa, though. Would you be my great-grampa `n fuck my cunt?"
The old man's "oh, Jesus," was mostly said in the same tone you tell the Lord how grateful you are for the gifts you are about to receive, although the gifts there are usually food and not tight little boy asshole.
Cam bent back over the log, raising and twitching his tiny butt at the old man, who promptly got down behind him, realized how stained his knees might get, managed to get upright, unbuckle, unzip, and drop trousers and boxers to his ankles. Then he was on his knees, breathing heavily, resting his weight on his left arm, and with a slightly shaking right hand, guided his leaking dick to the boy pussy. More prayers of thanks and praise when his cock sank into that hot little hole.
Charlie picked right up on the little fuck fantasy that was going on...the new and expanded version. He moved in front of the old man, and said in his best and youngest voice, "Great-grampa, would you suck my dickie?"
The old man didn't have time for more than the first note of the "Hallelujah Chorus" in his head before he swooped down on Charlie's boy meat, swallowing both it and the firm little balls. He was in boy fuck heaven, dick in kid cunt, kid cock in his mouth.
Shrewd young Charlie looked up, a glow of pleasure on his face, the sounds of cocksucking and boycunt fucking filling the clearing. He looked at the two outsiders, Tom and me, standing there bemused, and hard, and probably with expressions of more than a little frustration on our faces. Charlie gave us a wicked grin. Cheeky brat.
"Great-grampa," Charlie asked, his voice again high and very, very young sounding, "I know my uncles have fucked grampa, `cause he likes man dick in his pussy a lot, but have they ever fucked you?"
The old man paused in his sucking and fucking. He had to know where this was heading. If he wanted it to head that way. He did. He lifted his head a little away from Charlie's crotch and said that we hadn't. And when Charlie asked if he wanted us to, the old man paused again, and nodded, so slightly it was almost imperceptible. His turn, then, to look over his shoulder and up at us.
His glance went past our hard dicks and up to our faces, our eyes, looking for something. For a moment, so brief I wasn't really sure I saw it, his own eyes were distant, seeing something, not so much far away, but long ago. Long ago. When he was young, younger, youngest, and he'd been popular and well-fucked, long before age and more age hit and no one was interested any more. And suddenly he was being offered good-sized meat for his hole, and wondering whether it was going to be a mercy fuck.
In the instant between recognition of where his thoughts were going and the look that asked if we were going to be fantasizing about something else in order to stay hard enough to fuck his wrinkled, muscle-sagged, old ass, things changed for me. Before I was going along with the fuck as a favor to Charlie, just playing along with the fantasy, and because I knew I'd have to get used to sexing any man who asked me, even the non-hunks, the less-than-average, so I might as well start with this old man. After, well, after that little revelation I knew I'd be fucking him, if he let me, because I wanted to, because I was turned on by the fantasy of fucking "my grandfather"...Charlie and Cammie's fantasy great-grampa...while he was fucking and sucking on tiny boy relatives.
I don't know what Tom's expression said to the old man, but both of our faces must have given the right answer to the question he never asked, since he turned back and was about to resume sucking, when Tom asked, "Grampa...."
In the pause, the old man said, "Albert."
"Grampa Albert, do you want your lawyer grandson or your cop grandson to fuck you first?"
"Sweet fucking Jesus," he breathed. "You two decide."
My rock crushed Tom's scissors, so I got to be first. First to kneel behind Grampa Albert and spread his wrinkled cheeks and bury my face in his ass, licking and slurping to get his cunt wet, opening it with one, then two, then three spit-soaked fingers. First to get my dick into his cunt. And my instincts had been right. It was a talented hole, warm and tight and squeezing and caressing my dick on each stroke. Oh, Christ, that was so fucking hot. My ex-marine cop dick buried in the hot talented cunt of old, old Albert while he fucked little boy pussy and sucked little boy dick. And Tom kept my own cunt happy with a little daisy chain fuck while he waited for grampa Albert's hole.
"ASSHOLE!" my asshole screamed at me. "WAKE THE FUCK UP! PAY ATTENTION!"
Well, shit. I'd fucking spaced out thinking about the past few weeks and missed the whole goddamned bar toilet fuck. No wonder my hole was furious. If your mind's not on the fuck, or suck, or whatever, your nerve endings sure as hell aren't gonna get their jollies. And my mind agreed with my cunt...I needed more dick up there. And there were at least five of them not too far away.
I straightened up, my hard and leaking cock still angling up, and kind of swiveled to look at the guy who'd just been fucking me. Damn. From the ballooned out end of the condom he sure as hell must've enjoyed it; I wondered what it would have been like for him and me if I'd actually been along for the ride.
But he was obviously one of those fuck, cum and run as soon as you get your pants up guys. My words stopped him in mid-zip, though. "You get off good?"
"Uh, yeah." He finished zipping, was about to leave.
"Then how about telling the bartender there's an empty hole back here that needs to be filled...and then ridden hard."
A flicker of something passed over his eyes. Contempt, maybe. Yeah, right, like he's got something to be superior about. He just fucked a total stranger and got a pretty damn good cum out of it, and he's looking down on the guy who provided the warm hole to slide his meat into. Maybe the fuck he's right, but right now I needed to be fucked. Just like I'd needed it so much the past few weeks.
Shit. Maybe I was turning into a wimpy pussy slut who couldn't survive without his ass cunt getting fucked, without getting treated rough. I'll think about that tomorrow. Right now I'd really rather have cock than the dildo at the house. He didn't say anything, just nodded and left. I turned back to the trough, picked up the almost-warm Bud and finished the bottle off. Toed out of my shoes, stepped out of slacks and boxers. Spread my legs a little more comfortably, bent forward, and braced myself. I figured I'd give it a couple of minutes. If no one was interested, I'd...well, the mood I was in I sure the fuck wasn't going home. Somebody else was gonna fuck my ass tonight, by God.
Somebody did. Several somebodies.
Either the guy talked me and my ass up good, or it was late and the men out there were horny and I was better than nothing. If that got cock ramming up my ass, I could live with that.
Except for my socks I was naked in a sleazy, filthy bar toilet, bent over a urinal trough offering my freshly fucked ass to whoever came in. More than a little vulnerable. Stupid. Dangerous. What with the beer and all that I was fuckin' buzzed and horny for fucking. When the door opened, I started to turn my head to see who it was. Just in case. A deep voice stopped me. The bartender, I thought, though he hadn't said much to me during the couple of hours I'd been there. "You don't need to see the men who're gonna fuck your pussy, bitch. Eyes fucking forward, head fucking down."
My groin twinged, my cock spurted precum, and I obeyed. Christ what a turn on. Just like the night with Tom, getting fucked by unknown men. Hopefully more than one. Yeah. More than one man was getting up close and personal.
My first fucker was fat. Had to be, what with the huge belly resting on my ass. His cock was not long, not thick, nothing to write home to mother about...yeah, right, like my mom wouldn't haul out dad's shotgun and shoot off my balls if she knew what I was doing tonight. But he was at least cock in my hole, and like the Senator said, I'd better get used to getting used by men who didn't get my dick or my cunt twitching. He fucked me fast, not even touching my prostate, shit, the man had probably never fucked a guy before, and it wasn't long before he was grunting loud and shooting a load into his condom. For a moment he leaned over my back, panting loudly like he still might have a fucking heart attack, and then as he reached around me and hesitantly squeezed my mostly soft meat, he whispered, "Sorry I wasn't better."
Christ. So I lied through my fucking teeth. In a whisper only he could hear, I told him I never got hard anyway when I got fucked, and I'd really enjoyed it. Sometimes...a man's gotta lie, when a man's gotta lie.
The second was another long, thin dick. He leaned over me, his cheek resting on my back, his arms wrapping around me while he moaned and whimpered and rabbit-fucked my aching hole. Better. Definitely better, but not enough to make me shoot. Still, an enjoyable fuck and he sure as hell got off on it from the loud "Oh fuck I'm cumming!" shout.
The third was different. Better. Not real long, but fucking thick. Goddamn thick. Sliding in and out of my cunt real easy, rubbing my prostate and making me leak. Fuck, yeah. Then the real difference hit me.
I stopped moving my hips to meet his thrusts, stopped using my ass muscles to help him enjoy the fuck. "You bare?"
Smug bastard just grunted, gripped my hips harder and rammed home again. "Fuck, yeah. Fuck all my pussy bitches bare."
"Take it out."
Guess he didn't understand granite-speak. Stupid fucker ignored me, kept on pumping my ass, his oozing cock head rubbing my nut. So I helped him, in a kinder and gentler way, to understand plain English.
On an out-stroke I pulled my hips forward, forcing him to pop out of my ass, straightened up, spun around, gave him a hard right to his belly, which doubled him over, used my left to straighten him up and slam him against the toilet stall, and then with my right squeezing his throat and lifting him slightly up so he was half-way up to being on tiptoes, I tried some more granite-speak. "Anybody ever teach you to understand English, you dumb fucker?"
When you've been on the job as long as I have you have a sense about when a few men, all individuals with individual reactions, are about to blend into a gang. A gang that would be pissed off that the cum dump pussy bitch they were using had decided to fuck with their fun.
"Not a good idea, guys." My words shocked them, held them still just long enough. "Best case, you can jump my ass before I squeeze his throat too hard, and all he winds up with is a problem talking for a while, and you beat the crap outa me. Medium case, I'm gonna have enough time to crush his voice box and the fucker'll never talk again. Worst case, at least for him, he's gonna be fucking dead."
That stopped the few movements I'd sensed behind me. "Bartender...Hank?"
Deep voice. Stud voice. My lonely ass whimpered. "Yeah."
"While I keep a nice tight hold on this really stupid fucker's throat, why don't you feel around in my right pants pocket? Don't take what you find out, but let your buddies here know what you find."
There was a moment's silence and then my ears told me he was doing what I said. My pants rustled on the floor. And then I heard the belt buckle hit.
He'd clearly found my badge.
"Fuck is right. I'm a cop. So if you go ahead and beat the shit outa me, who the fuck do you think my buddies are gonna believe when I tell `em I was depressed `cause of stress from the job, having a few drinks, and some perverts jumped me and raped me? Even held a gun to my head."
One of them whined, "But...but we don't have any guns."
I squeezed the bare fuck guy's throat just a little, not much at all. I think he might have wanted to whimper, maybe gulp in some air so he could cry, but he was having a little trouble breathing right then. "You stupid shits. They're all gonna be carrying throw-aways, unregistered guns in case they need `em. For anything. Including wrapping somebody's hand around one to get prints on it, and then dropping it to the floor to...well...`find' when I manage to escape and call for help."
One voice behind me was near tears. "Oh, Christ, my wife...."
"Yeah, but there's a way out. A way your wife doesn't need to know, a way you don't get your asses hauled to jail and onto the fucking front page of every goddamned tabloid in the fucking country. Shit, the fucking world. Christ, what a headline. `Men rape cop in bar toilet!' You'll be famous. Of course, the fame won't do you much fucking good behind bars. Or...you want a way out of this mess?"
Hank was apparently the designated speaker. "A way out."
"You fucks are not as dumb as you look, or as you think you are. Okay, here's the deal. I'm gonna fuck your pussy friend here. Since he likes it bare, that's how it's gonna be. Now I know I don't have any diseases he might catch, but he doesn't. And maybe since I'm a goddamned cop I'm lying for the hell of it. So he's gonna get fucked nice `n hard and then he can worry about tests for the next year or so to make sure he didn't catch anything. And you guys are gonna fuck me."
"But...jesus, man, I don't even have a hardon," one guy said.
Inside, I smirked. No objection to his straight buddy getting his virgin ass fucked. No objection to fucking me. Just a lament that he didn't have a hardon.
"Your problem, guy. And one you better fucking solve. You all fuck my slut cop ass while I'm doing your buddy, or you all wind up in jail for rape."
I squeezed the throat on the prick bastard who might have killed me with his cock, and then let up just enough for him to gasp for air and sag down so his heels were on the floor. "F...f...f'chrissake, you bastards, do what he tells you."
Good. Now it wasn't rape. Just one guy fucking his fuck buddy's virgin pussy.
"There's five of us...."
Hank. Fucking troublemaker.
"Yep. Sure the fuck are five of you. Probably if you all jumped me you could beat the shit outa me, and your buddy doesn't lose his cherry, and you don't get any hot tight cop asshole to fuck. But then you go to jail for assaulting a cop, and for attempted rape."
There was silence for a moment, and as good as I am I wasn't sure I'd conned them enough to go through with the plan. I sure the fuck couldn't just try to get my clothes on and get the fuck outa Dodge.
Finally, Hank said "Okay."
Still holding onto the dumb fuck's throat, I told him to drop his pants. He fumbled with the buckle, fumbled with the button, and his hands were shaking while he worked the zipper. But he couldn't really get the pants much past his lard ass with me holding him against the stall, so I loosed the pressure enough that he could lean just a little forward and shuck those pants down to his thighs and then wiggle his hips and legs until they puddle around his ankles.
He got even more shaky when I made him turn around, bend over, and brace his hands on the toilet wall.
Now if this guy was one of the Senator's friends, who told me to fuck his ass, what would I do? Fuck, I'd eat out his pussy first, get it sloppy wet with spit, and then ram my meat home.
Sounded like a plan to me.
I'm not sure who said "holy fuck!" when I bent over, spread his cheeks and buried my face in his raunchy, smelly ass. Fuckin' whatever-the-fuck that drink was the gods used to fucking drink, even though the ass I was eating out wasn't attached to a stud. Gone-to-seed stocky, flesh getting flabby over what used to be muscle. Crew cut. Round face with a nose that had been broken and flattened more than once. Bushy eyebrows. Deep sunk eyes. Scraggly beard that mighta been the time, mighta been `cause he thought it made him look studly. But it wasn't his face I was interested in. Just his ass. With the hairy cheeks. Even more hair in his crack and around his hole. Balls that were still so scared of dying they were practically inside him. A shriveled dick. Too bad. Getting your pussy fucked while you have a hardon is a damn fine thing.
When I got him good and wet, I straightened up, moved my dick in place, felt a hand on my shoulder. The bartender's voice. "For all you know, man, could be raining in there, shit, a damned hurricane...."
The almost-fucked interrupted. "Goddamnit, Hank! I...."
"Shut the fuck up, Earl. Now, why don't you play it safe, cop, and wear a raincoat?"
A nice hard cock slid up between my ass cheeks, a fucking hot combination, raw dick and jeans against your ass, two arms slid around my waist, and an experienced pair of hands unrolled a condom down my meat, then guided it to Earl's spit-wet hole. I rested it there, barely parting his ass lips.
"Anything been up this hole but shit, Earl?"
"I ain't no fag!" The non-fag who'd been about to fuck my ass bareback, who was bent over and about to get his own ass fucked, was 110% fucking offended.
"Sure, Earl, sure, but you're a stud, aren't ya, Earl? Fucked plenty of virgins?"
"Hell, yeah." Braggin' now for his friends, maybe make them and him forget what was about to happen.
"Bet ya didn't ease into `em, did ya, let `em get used to it, just rammed it in good and hard like a man would, let the bitch get what she needs."
Jeez, what a stupid shit.
I rammed all eight plus inches of my thick meat home. Hard. Hell, maybe I bruised my balls from the way they slapped against his ass. Then pulled all the way out, the cum-collector tip barely sagging against his rapidly closing hole, and then shoved it in again.
Made me feel kinda good to know I'm not the only one to give out with the shrill, little girl scream getting fucked up the ass for the first time. Except I managed to keep it at one. Old Earl here, good ol' fuck-buddy Earl, with the big tits that used to be hard pecs, but made a good couple of handles for holding him in place, was definitely not enjoying getting his cherry busted. Whimpering a lot, too, as I ploughed his shitter.
Then I got mine fucked. By the other four. Guess watching one of your buddies get his virgin ass fucked by a cop, while you got to fuck the cop's ass was a turn-on for this crew. The two who'd already blown their loads up my ass got hard again. Thin dick fucked me while Hank went out to lock the front door and bring back another couple of condoms. Then fat guy. Then a guy whose face I hadn't seen. Nice cock. Average size, I guess. Hit my nut but didn't get me off.
And all the while I'm pumping in and out of Earl's ass, making sure I hit the fucking bump on every fucking stroke. Don't care if he was reciting multiplication tables in his head or thinking of his wife's ugly pussy as a means of staying soft, I'd learned over the past three weeks that getting your prostate worked on overrides everything else. And Earl's tits might never have gotten a workout before, but they were getting one now and the moans when I was twisting them, pretty damn hard, too, weren't pain. Well, yeah, fuck, they were, just the kind of pain that means you're turned on.
Number three got off with a loud grunt and an oh-fuck-shit-I'm-cumming! Hank's turn. I stopped fucking Earl, held still so I could enjoy the feel of Hank sliding his schlong up my hole. Not as big as me, but damn nice. He started pumping my cunt, and the considerate bastard found my nut and started working it. We settled into a good rhythm for the double fucking that was going on. I reached around and Earl was damned hard. But I also didn't have all fucking night. The sheer horniness and lust from earlier was dying out and right then all I wanted to do was get Earl off, get me off, get Hank off, get them all off of me, and then get the fuck outa there.
"One of you fuckers jack your buddy, Earl. He's enjoyin' this all right, so maybe if you're nice and bring him off, he'll offer up his pussy some other night. Or hell, you could party in his hole the rest of tonight."
I recognized thin dick's voice saying he'd do it. I had my eyes shut, head tilted back, hands on Earl's shoulders to keep him in place although he had no fucking place to go with cock up his ass and the guy fucking him getting fucked, too, enjoying the feeling of Hank's mouth licking my neck, biting and nipping at it, his hands twisting my pecs while he started ramming me harder. So I fucked Earl harder.
Then Earl gasped, "Tom! You can't suck your own brother's, oh fuck, oh Christ, he's sucking me, oh shit Tom pull off you fucking cocksucking oh fuck I'm cumming!" And with that Earl's ass walls clamped around my dick while he filled his brother's mouth with spooge since I was looking down now, bent forward over Earl's back, and I could see thin dick/Tom wasn't going anywhere. Hank fucked me still faster and then he was shuddering and grunting over my back.
Fuck. I didn't cum. Hank wasn't hitting my prostate the last little while, or if he was it had just turned into a lump of not-very-sexual muscle. But I'd gotten pretty good at using my ass muscles to please the men and boys who'd fucked me recently, so I did a Harry/Sally thing and faked a nice loud cum, squeezing the hell out of Hank's meat.
Then we all just stood there, some of us breathing heavy for real reasons, one of us faking it. Then we unhooked. It was dark enough that I could peel off the un-cummed condom and toss it on the floor, and with the tiredness and booze taking over, my cock started getting soft anyway. Not without bitter complaints, of course. Earl stood up, real shaky and used one hand on the toilet stall to balance himself. His brother got up. I was picking up my pants when I heard one of the guys say, "Jesus!"
I looked over my shoulder and grinned just a little. Tom was kissing his brother. Hard. Holding his head in place. And they were obviously sharing Earl's cum. When they pulled apart, I could see that thin dick was hard again. "Bend over again, bro, I'm gonna get me a piece of that ass, too."
I pulled on my boxers while Earl protested. I was pulling up my slacks when Tom cut him off. "Your cell phone is dead and it's locked in my car anyway. And I've got the keys. So who do you think is gonna get to Mary first with a good story, like how we were out drinking and you vanished in the john for so damned long I thought maybe my big bad older bro was sick or something and then I found you getting drilled by a couple of men. The way you been treating her lately, and running around on her, you think she's gonna believe you with your fantasy story of queer cops and you getting raped, or me explaining that yeah, you musta been running around all this time, getting your butt fucked by other men?"
My shirt was tucked in, my pants zipped, buttoned, belt buckled, tie back in place when Tom slid a condom on his cock and then punch-fucked into his older brother. I braced my back and butt against the wall, slid my right foot, filthy sock and all into my shoe, rested my ankle on my left knee, tied the laces, repeated, stood up, wavered, braced against the wall, and then stood very still for a moment. From all the swearing going on, Tom to Earl, Earl to Tom, this was definitely a grudge fuck. Guess Earl shoulda been nicer to his baby bro.
I didn't stagger when I turned to leave the john. Cops don't stagger; against their fucking religion or something. The only reason Hank had to grab my arm to keep me from falling was the damn filthy piss and cum and booze slick floor I'd slipped on. He still held onto my bicep as we left, Hank calling over his shoulder to Tom to fucking cum in his brother's pussy goddamned quick because he was closing the bar and he was gonna toss their asses out on the street, still connected or not if they weren't done by the time he got back.
Out in the bar, which wasn't quite like fucking daylight in comparison to the back hall and the john, everyone suddenly got shy, like nobody had been fucking another guy's ass back there. All except Hank. He kinda shoved my ass onto a bar stool, told me to stay! like a fucking puppy, and then herded the others out the door. He headed toward the john but Earl and Tom came out of the hall before he got halfway there. Earl's head wasn't exactly hanging, but he looked kind of desperate. Tom? Well, Tom just looked smug. That younger-bro-with-something-on-his-older-bro smug look. He looked at Earl, then at Hank. "Gonna give my bro here a ride home, he looks all, well, fucked out or somethin', so I don't think he oughta drive. You think he oughta drive, Hank?"
Hank grinned, shook his head "no."
"My car okay here until later?"
"Well, yeah, if you get here before they ticket or tow."
"No problem. Probably gonna be up all night anyway." He groped his crotch, showing us an obviously hard dick, and smiled. "Earl, here, he's got a real fine ass pussy, well, once he gets used to having cocks and things up it, but I need to try his mouth pussy, too. Wadda ya say, Earl, want your first lesson in cocksucking while we drive?"
As they left the bar, Earl kept his mouth shut. Which probably wasn't gonna last too long.
I sat there, kind of fogged out, while Hank did whatever bartenders do to close up early. He used the phone, though I couldn't hear what he was saying, then came around the bar and up to me. "C'mon, guy, I called you a cab. Buddy of mine."
I just nodded, got up, followed him out the door and stood there while he locked up.
I could have insisted on driving home, but I was too fucking exhausted and it was that more than the beer that made me unwilling to take the risk. As we stood outside, with all the exterior lights dark now, and the nearest working street light almost a half block away, Hank leaned in, his mouth descending toward mine, his hand about to grab my package. I pulled my head back, grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "No. Not in public."
Hank's eyes widened. "You have to be fuckin' shitting me." The expression in my eyes, on my face, whatever it was he could see of me in the faint light, maybe just the way I held his wrist, told him I was serious. "You've been sucking just about any dick that wanted to cum inside the toilet of a sleazy bar, and yeah, I know it's sleazy but it's a job. You just got through being gangbanged by a bunch of strangers in the same toilet. And an empty street, in the shadows, is too fucking public for a kiss and a grope?"
I shrugged. I was a Catholic cop. Two reasons I didn't have to make sense, just pronouncements. Decided to explain anyway. "Inside was different. Inside, nobody saw me except the men I wanted to see me. None of them is stupid enough to talk about it. Out here, anyone could see; anyone could recognize me, report me, cost me my job." I shook my head, which didn't do a damned thing to clear it, just like all the other head-shakings had failed the last three weeks.
"A little fucking paranoid, are we?" His voice was more than a little sarcastic.
Another shrug. "My life, my rules. You don't like the rules, go play someplace else."
"Okay, man. So we'll just be two drinking buddies standing outside a bar, talking while we wait for the cab called by the designated-cab-caller. So what do we talk about under your rules?"
Good things, deaths and shrugs come in threes.
"Well, since you don't have a suggestion...how about how it felt to fist Kong?"
The question might as well have been a sucker punch in my gut by the last two heavyweight champions—at the same time. My expression wouldn't have been any different.
There was a little smug "gotcha!" tone as he went right on talking, ignoring whatever fear I might have been showing at the idea an outsider somehow knew what I had done, the bleakness of knowing my career was indeed fucking over if he said anything. Then my mind caught up with what he was saying, instead of the blackmail threats I was expecting.
"Man, you were fucking hot in your first DVD. You, Harry, Charlie and Eddy. Especially raping Eddy. I keep playing that scene over and over, makes me cum big every damn time. But Kong, man. Whole bunch of us been wanting someone to take him down a peg or twelve, but none of us knew how, or maybe, none of us had the guts. And Kong! Fucking name fits like he was born to it. Shit he was born to it. The look on his face, and hell, yours, when he was fucking you over the Senator's table and you bellowed out, `Fuck me harder, Kong, you bastard!'
"Bunch of us got together once we heard about the fisting DVD and got our copy. Put it on Tom's big-screen TV, got naked, just men that time, six of us jacking and sucking down booze and inhaling poppers, watching you get little Chase's two-year-old cherry. And how much he enjoyed it. You got fucking balls, man, fucking huge ones to talk the little guy into giving up his ass instead of waiting for his old man or the Senator. Damn but we all came good when you filled his tiny cunt with your spooge, but the best cum was watching you really get into fisting Kong, and then have him shoot what, a damned quart or something of cum just from being fisted?
"Arrogant bastard topping everyone, and nobody daring to make him play by the rules. `til you fucking did. Shit, man, if there was a Pedo Hall of Fame you'd be in it right now just for that."
Hank was a part of the fucking...group? My face...just my ordinary bewildered Eliot face, not my granite cop face...must've asked the question.
"Yeah, man, same as you." He squeezed my shoulder. "On the share-a-boy-share-your-ass payment plan. But that's gonna...ah...here's our ride."
I turned my attention back to the street. No bright yellow cab pulling up. It was a damned limo. Black Lincoln. Not the block-long kind of limo, but the back seat had to be huge. It came to a stop, flashers starting, though there was no traffic at 2:30 or so in the morning. The driver's side rear door opened, and a man got out, hurrying around the back of the car. For a second it looked like he was hurrying to zip up. Shook my head again, though it probably looked like a nervous twitch. Damn but I've got sex on the brain...on the cock...on my still horny cunt...tonight.
"I'd get your keys, cop, but if they're in your pocket you'd get all pissy with me and paranoid about indecent conduct on a public street." He nodded toward the man coming across the wide sidewalk to us. "He's gonna drive your car back. Definitely sober. Very religious. Doesn't drink at all."
I fumbled in my slacks, found the keys, and like a good little robot handed them over to a total fucking dark-skinned Hindu-Muslim-Arab-whateverthefuck unknown man I'd never be able to identify in a line up, much less give the sketch artist something to go on when he up and vanished with my old Chevy. Yeah, boss, I was too drunk, and too gang-fucked, to drive so I did the responsible thing and gave my car keys to a man I'd never met before, just because my good friend the bartender who I'd never met before he ploughed my pussy, said it was okay. Right, Eliot, right. Great fucking story for the squad.
White, white teeth flashed in a grin beneath a thick mustache. Mustache, mustache. I needed to remember that. Yeah, that could identify him. Couldn't be more than what, a billion dark skinned men with mustaches in the city, could there? Eliot-face I guess blabs everything. Or Hank was a mind-reader.
"Shit, man, stop worrying, and just get in the goddamned car. Faruq is a good driver, has to be since he drives for his brother who owns our ride."
I was bent over, right hand on the top of the door, starting to get in. Stopped. "Our ride?"
I looked over my shoulder, my eyes sliding down to where Hank was groping this big bulge in his jeans. There was a grin in his voice when he said, "Customer service, man. Y'have to service your customers right or they don't cum, uh, back."
Although the door was open the interior of the rear seat was completely dark. "Sit in the middle, huh? I need to be close to service my customers right."
I got in, scooted over until my foot hit the drive-shaft hump down the middle, and stopped. Hank got in beside me, hip touching mine, closed the door. The lights came up. On a fucking dimmer somewhere. Not blind-you-for-days bright, just enough to be able to see clearly, but with enough shadows to make what you saw interesting.
What I saw was interesting. Very.
I saw the reason why Faruq...daddy Faruq? Uncle Faruq? Just plain horny pedo Faruq?...was zipping his pants when he got out.
There were other passengers. Two of them. Damn, drunk and I can still count to two.
Two little boys sitting close together, the near one not quite touching me.
Two naked little boys. Dark-skinned, black-haired little boys, with large dark eyes shining up at us in the dim light. Naked little boys who grinned a little at the cop and the bartender, teeth shining in the near-darkness, fondling their stiff little pricks.
My math skills were needed again. Two boy dicks nice and hard. Two man dicks nice and hard. Well, mine was for sure, so I used my investigative skills to determine the facts. My right hand groped Hank's crotch. Definitely two stiff pieces of man meat. That made four cocks in a huge limo back seat.
Hank chuckled and returned the groping favor. "Meet Tariq, six, and Sulaiman, five. Their father is Khalid Hussain—different spelling, no relation—our driver. Boys, this is Eliot."
The one closest to me smiled again. "I am Tariq."
The younger one peeked around him, his voice softer, a little more hesitant than his confident brother. "I'm Sulaiman."
Hard cock or no, what with all the booze, all the fucking, I'd been sure I was wiped enough to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before dragging my ass out of bed for work, and even though I hadn't cum during the toilet sex, mentally I was all cummed out. Until I got in the limo. Until little Sulaiman asked if he could suck my pee-pee.
The motion passed the house by unanimous consent. My cock strained at my zipper and I managed to nod. Tariq didn't say anything, just scrambled across my lap...being very careful to feel my hardon in the process...and got on his knees between Hank's now-spread legs. Which were touching my also spread legs, since I, too, had a naked little boy kneeling between them.
I'm in a fucking limo instead of a cab, being driven home by the father of two naked little boys who were going to suck off the men he was driving. Who had probably sucked off their Uncle Faruq on the way to pick us up. Fucking all right! I had questions, but first things first, as in, getting my cock the attention it needed, wanted, deserved.
As I unbuckled, unzipped, lifted my hips and used my shoulders as leverage against the back of the seat to get my boxers and pants past my ass and down to my knees, where two tiny hands could grab them and pull them to my ankles, I decided I'd better give serious thought to going commando from now on. One less bit of clothing to get rid of. Hank was doing the same and then we were done. Two half naked men with wide-spread legs and two very, very small boys between those legs, sucking our cocks.
"Oh, man, it's gonna be so great to have a boy of my own," Hank moaned as he held Tariq's head tight and used it as a fuck hole, lifting it and shoving it down again on his dick.
"Khalid's got seven kids, Eliot. Aamir is eight, a daughter who's seven, you've met our little cocksuckers, and then there's Yacqub, who's four, and Tahir, who's three, and little Masood, who's just two. Six boys, one girl. And they're all well-fucked in every hole. Well, I'm not sure about little Masood."
I looked down, saw Tariq struggling a little, and then Hank let him lift his head off Hank's dick. Poor little kid was drooling spit and precum from his face fucking, but he smiled up at both of us. "Papa fucked Masood last night in his pussy. Then Uncle Faruq. Papa says Masood is a good boy cunt, likes being fucked. You want to fuck Masood, too, Uncle Hank?"
Hank moaned and shoved little Tariq's head back down so the kid was deep throating the adult cock. "Fuck, yeah. Me `n Eliot here, fucking your little brother hard `n fast. Maybe lining all of you up on your bellies on your daddy's big bed and taking turns fucking the Hussain brothers. Oh fuck oh damn, kiss me, Eliot."
I'd never kissed a man before, other than just to share cum. But this was so goddamned hot. Two horny pedos in the back seat of a limo, holding the heads of two very little boys between our legs while we face fucked them good and hard knowing their father was driving, could hear everything, kissing a hot man, tongue-fucking his mouth while fantasizing about driving my cock deep into the two-year-old's cunt while Hank was right beside me working on the three-year-old. Maybe Khalid and Faruq watching, joining in, fucking the four year old and little Sulaiman here. Too fucking much. I started pumping a searing load of spooge straight down Sulaiman's throat. And from his grunts and moans into my mouth, with his tongue raping my throat, Hank was doing the same to Tariq.
When the gasps and whimpers (the men) and the satisfied grunts (the little boys) were all done, Hank and I dropped our heads back and sagged, panting. Just what I needed. What Hank needed. But fuck I guess we needed something else because we were still hard. I looked down at Hank's cock and reached over to play with it and his balls. Despite having been face fucked with it in the bar, and cunt fucked as well, it was my first real look at it. About six inches long with a big flaring head, standing up straight all by itself. Hank returned the favor.
"You're up, I see. For some boy pussy, maybe?"
Tariq and Sulaiman were both grinning and nodding their heads. But they'd done such a good, careful job on sucking our dicks that we were almost back at my place. I didn't think it'd be a good idea to be fucking hot little-boy cunt in the back seat of a limo at three a.m. or so in my own neighborhood. Not that the neighbors were nosy, yeah right, but they sure the fuck didn't get to see many limos. And definitely not at my house. And that would make them curious. I was about to decline with a shit-load of regret and a furious cock and balls, when it suddenly occurred to me.
Fuck `em (the neighbors) if they can't take a joke. Although I'd have to think of a pretty damn good joke to explain four men and two very little boys going into my house in the middle of the goddamned night, or morning, if anyone asked. Yeah, four. I couldn't see daddy and uncle waiting in the limo while Hank and I went inside to fuck their boys. I had a virgin bed inside.
Yeah, yeah, not so virgin since the girls were conceived there. Not so virgin to the jackoff sessions since they left. Not so virgin to the new jackoff sessions with pedo porn in my head and a dildo up my ass. But I'd never sexed a little boy there. Never had man sex there. Fuck, yeah.
I nodded. Caressed little Sulaiman's head. "Would you like my dick in your pussy?"
"Oh, yes, please!"
Oh. I almost forgot. If you're going to fuck a little five-year-old boy in your own bed while his daddy watches, it's only polite to ask permission first. "Uh...Khalid...Mr. Hussain?"
The partition between the back seat and the driver rolled down. "Yes, detective?" Nice baritone. I wondered if he was as hot looking as his sons.
"Uh." I just stopped. I mean, I know he's okay with this, fuck, Hank said he was, and he had to know his boys were sucking cock just now, but, shit, how the fuck do you ask a man to come in your house and watch while you fuck his son?
There was a definite laugh in his voice when he said, "You wish to know if it is acceptable to me for you and your friend to fuck my little boys' tight little cunts?"
Yeah. Yeah, those were the words I was looking for. "Uh."
The laugh was out loud this time. "Of course. They were raised from birth for men to use them, not just their father and uncles and grandfathers. There is a condition, though."
I already knew that one. "They don't get hurt and you get to watch. No problem."
"And Faruq and I will participate as well, if we choose."
Fuck, yeah! The images flashed in my head. Four men swapping places to fuck little boy cunt, little boy mouth, one for each hole. Fucking perfect. "Hell, yeah."
He stopped the limo in front of my house while we were still struggling to get our clothes on again. Kind of difficult with hardons and two cocksuckers who wanted to go on playing with your dicks. Fortunately for me, the big floodlight I had to shine on the yard at night, especially when Caroline or the girls were out, had burnt out a week ago, and what the fuck did I need it for? So there wasn't a lot of light on us walking up to the house. For which I was now grateful. Any decent amount of light would have shown me carrying a half-naked little boy with a big hardon straining my slacks.
I didn't apologize for the empty pizza boxes by the one chair in the living room, which faced the small TV which was all I could afford, but at least I still had cable. Once the lights were on, I also didn't apologize for the nine inch long dark brown dildo still standing upright on its suction cup base on the table next to the chair; or the tube of KY next to it, or the bottles of Man Scent and Spartan, or the obviously cum-stained towel. It had been four-year-old Carroll, with the delicate looks and the pussy that swallowed your cock like an anaconda, who had introduced me to poppers. The kid went out of his mind using them when he was being fucked, especially if he had cock in his mouth and his cunt. It had been kinda hot straddling that table last night and lowering my cunt onto the dildo and fucking myself with it while I watched a kiddy-porn DVD Tom had made of him fucking two little boys.
The bedroom was another no-apology area. A queen-sized...I guess that was now an appropriate word...bed with sheets and pillowcases that definitely needed changing, especially since both were a little stiff in places from semen stains. A night stand with a light. Back when I was dating, I could remember the awkward moment when you got home, her place or mine, knowing you were there to fuck and wondering who was going to get it started, who was going to undress first. No need for worry here. Not with two hot and horny little boys who were naked and up on the bed within seconds. On the way up, Tariq had snagged a pair of my dirty boxers from the floor and he and Sulaiman were taking turns sniffing them and playing with their stiff little cocks.
I was so fucking hard I hurt.
I toed off my shoes, stepped out of them while Hank was balancing on one leg and then the other to yank off his boots, and then both of us were trying to set a speed record for getting naked and onto the bed. We just dropped our clothes on the hardwood floor. Fuck, there had to be something I could wear to work that wouldn't smell too bad once I used deodorant and cologne, in about...I looked at the big display on the clock radio...fuck...in about two hours.
How the hell were we going to work this? While I was trying to figure out the logistics, Sulaiman wiggled across the bed, got the KY...hey, it's easier to have KY wherever I might need it instead of having to hunt...and was greasing up my cock. Then he used his slick little hands to get me right where he wanted me, half sitting up with my back against the headboard. Hank quickly joined me in the same position. Our two eager cunts made sure we were both lubed up, straddled us, reached around to be sure our cock heads were right on their pussies, and then promptly lowered the fuck down on our meat. Cops and bartenders definitely groan pretty damn fucking loud when they get their dicks buried in a little boy's pussy that way.
Only the meat didn't stay buried long. Not when the boys began lifting their asses so the air kissed their pussy holes and then they slammed down again. Christ but I loved being a pedo. What a nasty fucking scene. Two large adults, two very tiny gorgeous Paki boys getting their pussies fucked hard while two other men.... Jesus. I'd fucking forgot about Khalid and his brother. Caroline used to say I had goddamned blinders on sometimes when I was focusing on something. I blinked, looked around, and tried not to jump when I realized one of the two was right by my side of the bed. I'd been so intent on getting my cock buried in boy cunt I hadn't paid attention, didn't even know which man was which.
"You fuck my son well." Okay. I glanced to my left. That had to be Faruq on the other side of the bed, close to Hank and Tariq, who was getting his little ass pounded hard. I was being more leisurely with my fucking. So I took a...leisurely...look at Khalid. I expected someone as beautiful somehow as these boys, not a screaming queen fag beauty, but a mature version. I was wrong. The boys' father was short with a squarish face, a thick mustache, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a thick nose, deep-set black eyes with a sardonic glint to them, receding black hair flecked with silver, a wide mouth. Not an ugly face, but sure the fuck not what you'd expect to produce a kid as gorgeous as the five year old who was eagerly bouncing his butt up and down on my meat. Khalid's build was stocky, big-boned like they say, probably hairy chested but I couldn't tell since he still had his shirt and tie on. The rest of him was definitely hairy, since his pants were around his ankles. Commando, too.
And then there was his cock. I'd had a lot of cocks up my ass in the last three weeks, and down my throat, but most of the time I didn't get a really good look at them. I tried not to gape at this one. Uncut. A small head with a fucking huge piss slit, then almost immediately behind, a collar of heavy foreskin that had pulled back and left some bare pink skin around the head, and then his meat got thicker...and thicker and thicker down to the jungle of black and silver hair at the base. His balls didn't hang low, just an enormous tight sack.
He was stroking his dick with his left hand while his right stroked down his young son's back, squeezing the globes of the boy's ass, causing Sulaiman to squeal and lean forward to kiss me. Then his hand was on the base of my greasy cock, playing with it where it moved in and out of his boy's cunt, then on down to my balls. With an almost-gentle squeeze he let go. "I will participate."
Goddamn but Khalid was formal. But fuck, yeah! Sulaiman could swivel around while my cock stayed in his shitter and straddle me facing away so his dad could fuck his face while I fucked that hot, hot, hot tight little hole. I stopped the boy's movements, and started to raise his legs so I could turn him, but Khalid's voice stopped me. "You misunderstand, detective. I can have my sons any time I wish, and I do. But Aamir, the eldest, is the only one who can take my whole cock in his ass, and his grandfather has taken him to the bookstore on Harwell. The manager is most agreeable, you see, to allowing very underaged pussy on the premises to work the gloryholes in the booths, so long as he gets the first fuck. But that left me with no hole tonight for a deep, hard fuck. Until your cunt became available. It is available, is it not, detective?"
Shit, I knew the rules. "Uh, yeah, but I've never...."
"Never, detective?" He reached around his son and twisted my nip...hard! I gasped.
"Uh, never...uh, never had anything that big up my ass."
"And you wish me to be gentle with you?"
Well, fuck yeah, but it did sound kind of like a pussy-ass wimp put that way. I was saved from actually saying anything because the bed sagged and I looked left. Hank had swiveled to put his feet on the floor, while Tariq's slender legs stayed wrapped as far around him as they could get, obviously with Hank's cock still plugged in. He stood up and...well, damn, Faruq wasn't any prettier than his brother, but like his brother he was naked from the waist down, and like his brother his cock was uncut, very fucking fat and drooling a steady stream of precum.
Khalid twisted the other nip and pain/ecstasy shot down to my cock which lurched and drooled inside the boy's sheath. That definitely brought my attention back to the boy's father. "What an interesting fantasy life you have," he said.
Fantasy life? What fucking.... Oh. The "be gentle with me I'm only a poor virgin" fantasy. Shit. Piss, fuck.
"Sulaiman, get off of the officer's cock and stand beside me."
And with that, my wet, painfully hard, leaking meat was bereft of all comfort and companionship. FUCK! Of course, my traitor asshole was humming a few bars of its special version of "Tonight."
"I would prefer that you are on your knees at the edge of the bed, officer."
I could live with that...if I could live with that..."that," of course, being Khalid's dick in my hole. I noticed Hank was walking around the end of the bed, Tariq still impaled, and the muscles of Hank's arms standing out as he supported the boy's weight.
"Ah. Very good, Hank." Khalid's tone was...odd. "Excellent, in fact. It is always good when a cunt anticipates that the men using him will want easy access in trading off."
Hank winced. Then he was on my side of the bed, getting on the edge on his knees and very carefully lowering himself so that his ass was thrust out. How he managed to keep his dick up the boy's ass was a miracle, but the kid was on his knees beneath him. I looked over my shoulder at Sulaiman standing between his father and uncle, my eyes trying to avoid the sight of those huge slabs of meat. Khalid caressed Hank's hairy butt, gave it an affectionate pat, the way you might pat a dog.
"I assume Hank has not told you his story?" My expression confirmed it. "I will provide you with the, how do you Americans put it, the Cliff Notes version? He fucked his best friend when he was fourteen, although the friend was not precisely willing. But the boy was a year younger, much smaller, and so Hank had his way. And went on having his way. And his way was to top whoever he had sex with. He rarely sucked, and never swallowed. He most definitely was never fucked. He was always a very butch top. Can you imagine, detective? A homosexual all his life who has never known the joy of a cock in his rectum?"
Khalid laughed. Beside me, I could feel the tension in Hank's body. "And then there was the rest stop. I do not know if Hank has quite decided yet whether to be grateful or deeply resentful that he was horny and decided to cruise there before going home after closing the bar. Aamir was restless that night, and a fuck from his grandfather, his uncle and me had not satisfied him. The men who frequent that rest stop know that occasionally a father or grandfather will show up late at night with a very young little boy on whom they can slake their lusts. When he walked in, a man who'd just cum up my son's ass and then hosed him with piss told Hank to join in because `he's taking all cummers up the ass.'
"It wasn't until Hank got through the ring of men around Aamir that he saw that the `taking all cummers' man wasn't a man after all, but a then six-year-old boy. Poor, naïve stud Hank, actually believing he could call 9-1-1 after blurting out `You fucking bastards!' in a furious voice when he saw the thick cocks pounding in both of Aamir's little holes. Faruq's knife at his throat convinced him that the call was a very bad idea and to hold very, very still while the two men fucking Aamir finished off. Aamir then convinced pedo virgin Hank that little boy sex was a very good idea.
"My little boy stood up, looked at Hank, then turned around and bent forward, holding his cheeks wide, so that Hank could see how brown and used his boy cunt was. Then he pushed hard and a huge glob of cum spurted out of his ass and onto the floor, followed by a little boy giggle. Hank has, of course, never admitted it, but I do not think it was the knife that held him so very still when Aamir turned around and walked toward him. I think it was the sight of my little cum slut whore boy. Naked. Stinking of piss and cum. His body spotted with cum where it hadn't been washed off by the piss. His face was cum streaked and he opened his mouth to show that he hadn't swallowed the last load of cum from his face fucker. He swirled his tongue around and then let it ooze out past his lips and down his chin. Ah, such a wonderfully obscene little boy to own.
"Hank did not, I think, notice that Faruq's knife was no longer there, once he had his cock inside of his first little boy's mouth. Once he had face fucked my little one and cum deep in his throat. Once he remained hard and the little boy begged him to stick his dick in the little one's cunt. He did, though, notice when Faruq put the knife back and told him that since the little boy was pleasuring him so well, it was only fair that Hank (who was then nameless of course) should pleasure the little boy's father; that he would be very wise to hold very still.
"He did not actually have much choice, with his dick trapped in boy cunt, a knife at his throat, and a number of men in the group kneeling around him and holding him in place. All of the men with rather sadistic grins on their faces, though in Hank's position he could not observe. All of them knew the price for sexing my young son was being sexed by me or Faruq or occasionally both of us. Having experienced what Hank was about to experience, some of them quite often, they were eager to watch someone else go through it.
"Hank claims he was a virgin that night, and has stuck to that story ever since, but I still suspect I had a predecessor. One of the men was going to clamp his hand over Hank's mouth as I began to work my dick into his man cunt, but I signaled him not to. I wanted to enjoy Hank's screams when he realized what was going up inside him, what was going to be using him just as he was using my little boy. And indeed I did. Hank came inside Aamir's little pussy long before I was finished with Hank's hole. Then I let Faruq use him. He came in Aamir again while being fucked by Faruq.
"Although he still claims not to enjoy it...a fact which makes the fucks all the more enjoyable, for me...we reached an accord, Hank and I, after that night. And after several more rounds of letting him sex one of my boys. In exchange for two years of sexual servitude, which includes bringing me new man cunts to breed, I agreed to breed him a baby boy, to let him adopt my child, and raise him as a cum slut whore bitch. His new son will be born in less than a month, leaving only six more months for me to use the new father.
"Does it make your penis leak, Eliot, to think of Hank here with his very own young boy to raise? Jealous, perhaps, that you don't?"
Fuck. The answer to both was "yes." But I shrugged as if it wasn't important. As if I didn't really more than half want him to make me the same offer, even though it would fuck my work having a kid to take care of. Shit, the idea was tempting. And I couldn't go all Biblical and tell the devil to get behind me, because he already was. Getting ready to fuck me.
And then he did.
No going easy. No fair warning so I could do something, anything, to prepare myself. Fuck, the only thing I could have done to prepare my ass was to talk one of the city construction guys into reaming my ass with whatever they used to build the Holland Tunnel.
His hands hadn't moved from my waist while he was talking about Hank, so all the fucker did was tighten his grip, briefly touch the head of his cock to my pussy lips, and then ram every fucking inch of his meat into my cunt.
The Department has no regulations on cops screaming that I am aware of. The Marines do. If a Marine is captured by the enemy and tortured, a Marine is permitted one scream not to exceed 70 decibels (vacuum-cleaner equivalent) for not more than 2 seconds, if the torture is light to moderate; one 80-decibel scream (garbage disposal) not to exceed 4 seconds if the torture is moderate to heavy, and two 90-decibel screams (power tool, food blender) not to exceed 8 seconds in the aggregate if the torture is heavy. For extreme torture, one garbage truck equivalent scream (100 decibels) is permitted, but if the Marine survives he will have to justify his conduct before a review board.
Fuck the Marine rules.
I ignored the motorcycle (102) and power mower (105) and started with the chainsaw (110); briefly touched the live rock music (120), raced past the stock car race (130), paused at the aircraft carrier deck (140), soared past my .38 going off a foot away (155) and finally settled on a sonic boom (194).
Okay, so it didn't look like Faruq was quite as hung as his brother, but awfully damned close, and Hank, that smug fucking bastard just grunted when the meat got shoved into his shitter. To my amazement when I was conscious again, or it felt like regaining consciousness, the windows in my bedroom were still intact, and there was no immediate outcry from the neighbors. Of course, on one side the neighbors were old and deaf, and on the other, too drugged out generally to notice.
I managed, how the fuck I'll never know, to not beg him to pull his cock out of my cunt, to go easy on me. He granted one of my unsaid pleas by pulling his cock out, however, but that was just a Little Red Riding Hood ruse...all the better to fuck you with, you slut. `cause he shoved it right back in. As a butch ex-Marine and NYPD officer, I had of course regained control after my unfortunate outburst. I was able to dial the second yell all the way back to a jet engine a foot away with no ear protection (180).
To make things worse, my pussy was pissed because my head had allowed the pain centers to take control and turn me into a wimp who was depriving my hole of the pleasures to which it was entitled, inalienable rights and all that shit. The argument continued through the next few fuck strokes and finally my pussy won. And I started enjoying the fuck. Knew that kiddy-cunt or not, I wanted this cock in my cunt again.
First I whimpered, then I moaned, then I moaned even louder when tiny young Sulaiman wriggled his way under me, and with no help from me got my dick back in his tight little hole. Thank God he's such a talented, limber little slut.
And then I just...fucking...went away. No mind, no thoughts, no sensations except the feel of an ICBM-like cock steadily fucking in and out, forcing my own meat in and out of the boy hole beneath me, only vaguely hearing, not quite understanding, my voice babbling incoherent pleas to Khalid to never stop fucking, feeling Sulaiman go through one dry cum right after another, as my own cum built and finally exploded in his boy cunt, and Khalid kept right on fucking and fucking and fucking until I couldn't stand it any more and I shot blanks into the boy's cunt and finally, finally, finally! Khalid gave me his cum. And more cum. And more cum. I was having a fucking enema with cum!
I would have collapsed onto his kid, but his strong arms kept my ass in the air so Sulaiman could do a reverse wriggle and get his young cunt off my dick and the rest of him out from under me. Then Khalid yanked his cock out and I could collapse on the bed.
Khalid patted my ass. "An acceptable fuck."
Acceptable. Acceptable? Just fucking acceptable?? I wanted to cry, but well-fucked Marines don't cry. We have a regulation about that, too.
"But I am sure you will get better with training."
Thank you, Jesus! Not that I said it aloud. I was still in a damned fog, but at least I knew I'd have another chance at that prick. And hopefully at Faruq's as well.
I sort of heard him chuckle, and then tell me that they would let themselves out, and lock the door behind them. I think he asked me what my neighbors might think of two Iraqi men, one white man and two little boys, all naked and sweaty and cum-stained walking out of my house and getting into a limo, but decided that was just my foggy mind making things up. I did manage to crawl all the way onto my bed, still belly down. I looked at the clock.
Fuck. Less than an hour before I had to get up so I could get to work. Thank God I'd already set the alarm as I doubted I had the strength to do it right them because I had to be on time. The captain had a new case for me and my partner. Something about...about...well, what the fuck was a bwah-car-ay center anyway?
Note: Although it has been quite a while since I've posted, real life has had to take precedence. But the response to the last two stories was underwhelming. If there's no longer any interest, I'll stop posting generally, and just send copies to the readers who have taken the time to let me know what they think. If there is in fact interest in reading these stories, speak now or forever hold your...whatever.