Date: Thu, 29 Nov 2007 22:29:32 EST
From: Wolf34691@aol.com
Subject: Uniform Love, Part one

This story is a work of fiction. If you are under age or offended by gay
sex or prohibited by law where you live, don't read it!

Questions, comments, suggestions to wolf34691@aol.com.

(M/m,  MM/m, S+M. WS, Uniform, violence, blood)

The first time I saw him was when I was waiting in the checkout line at the
big W. He was with three friends. All of us waiting for some old lady to
hurry up and finish paying the cashier.  Then I had to wait for him and his
friends to check out.

They were just a bunch of Goth kids. Black clothes, long hair, make up, the
usual shit. Two guys, two girls. Wouldn't have even noticed him, except...he
didn't act like they did. Or really even dress the same. Oh, sure, he had
on the black clothes--ripped jeans, old leather boots, the usual shit the
Goth kids wear, but a skin-tight black tank top? He had that same smooth,
pale white skin. But he was in better shape than his buddy. Not gym-bunny
muscles but lean and hard. And no make-up or jewelry. That was what was so
different. And young, really young looking. Maybe 14? 15?

Our eyes met as he noticed me checking him out. Soft, gray eyes. Trying to
look tough, but...he just looked lost. Not stoned, confused, drugged-out
lost, but like he just didn't belong. Anywhere.

Our eyes locked for a second, his soft gray ones to my sharp blue ones. He
turned away. I sensed his fear. After all, what kid--teen--whatever wanted
to be noticed by an older guy? Especially a cop?

I looked the kid over as he turned away from me. The first of his friends
had finished checking out, now we were waiting for the two girls to get
done.  He was shorter than my 5ft 11 inch frame. Maybe 5 ft 6 at most?
Thin, not even 110lbs in contrast to my 175 pounds of lean muscle. Long,
dirty black hair, the natural color, judging from the hair I could see on
the rest of his body. Thin boyish mustache and a little patch of fuzz on
his chin. Maybe 17 at most?

That would have been the end of my checking the kid out. Hell, he wasn't
doing anything wrong and even though I was still in uniform, I was just
coming off duty from a long, hot day. But then I looked closer at his
neck. Dark, ugly bite marks. Fresh. Guess the young stud had some hot fun
lately! Then lower, looking over his slender but strong shoulders. Ugly
black and blue bruises spilling over the neck of his black tank top. On
both of his lean arms and covering his slender shoulders.

Before I could do or say anything, it was his turn at the register. My eyes
went to his purchases, a pile of condom boxes and a couple of tubes of
lube.

You have to hand it to those cashiers at the big W. They don't get fazed in
the least about whatever stuff their customers buy.  The middle age women
working at the register, old enough to be his mother, hell, old enough to
be mine, didn't even blink.

As he was digging out his wallet to pay, I noticed something else. On the
inside of his right bicep, against the pale, smooth skin, were three slash
marks, like from a knife. Well healed and obviously old, but still visible
against his white skin.

His gray eyes met mine again as he noticed me staring at his arm. A look of
sadness, fear, and something... maybe.....couldn't get that one. Guess the
concern, curiosity and confusion in my eyes got to him.

"It's cool, I'm ok." He said softly to me.

Before he turned away, I saw his eyes stop at the tattoo on my left forearm
and hand.  A barbed-wire inspired design in black ink, wrapping around my
arm, winding up to curl around my middle finger. I saw his eyes follow it
up to where it disappeared under the black sleeve of my uniform shirt.  Saw
his eyes shift to where it peaked out above my shirt collar, running up the
side of my neck.  Then he followed his buddies out.

I finished checking out and followed. Stopped at the entrance. Saw them
walking across the parking lot, in the blazing light of the setting Florida
summer sun. The local city cop, on duty outside the store (not a bad job,
not really a crime hot spot but there had been some bad shit around here
lately, hence the cop) saw me watching them.

"Hey, Triple T, what's up?" He asked. "Trouble?"

That's me. Triple T to my friends and co workers. Thomas Trey Turner, 28, 5
ft 11 inches tall, 175 lbs, short blond hair, blue eyes, bad ass county
cop!

"Those Goth kids? Know them?" I asked.

"Those four? In here all the time, especially late at night. But never had
any trouble from them...." He trailed off.

"But?"

"The younger guy, I remember him. Came in a couple of weeks ago. Looked
like he'd been worked over by a fucking street gang. Covered in bruises and
shit." The city cop told me.

"And?" I asked, remember what I saw inside--knew damn well those were fresh
marks on the kid, that the bruised flesh wasn't from a couple weeks ago

"And I stopped him and asked if he was ok. Gave me a sort of sick little
smile and said he was cool. Didn't act like a addict or anything, even
checked him out." He told me.

"Find anything?"

"No, the guy was clean. No record. Older than he looks, though."

"Remember his name?"

"No, but his friends called him `the mole'. Think he was maybe 17 or 18."
My fellow officer informed me. "Why?"

"Just seemed something strange about him, but what the fuck. Kids that age
are all weird." I laughed.

I left, with the city cop's promise that he'd check his records and email
me if he still had the kids info.

-----------------------------------------------------

Headed home. Another wonderful day in sunny Florida! Ha! Actually summer
thunderstorms had caused all kinds of accident this afternoon and I had my
hands full dealing with them. Fucking idiots don't realize that rain slick
roads were almost as bad as ice covered ones! Think it would kill them to
slow down. But that's my job. Dealing with idiots.

I'm a county cop--excuse me, deputy.  Working Pinellas County between the
cities of St. Petersburg and Clearwater. Good `ol St. Pete, America's
retirement haven. Lately trying to remake itself as a cool hangout for the
young and hip.  But just getting filled more and more with condos.  Which
don't sell anymore! And then there's Clearwater, the home of a certain
alternative religion of the rich and famous. Nothing against them, just
that with so many of them living there, being a city officer in CW would be
really boring.

But my beat is the county. All the unwanted areas between the two
cities. With a few smaller towns thrown in, some with there own police
forces, like Largo, but most relying on the county patrol. Basically meant
we got all the poor areas in between. With a few rich beach towns thrown
in. Didn't know which was worse, dealing with the poor folks in run down
apartments and trashy trailer parks or the rich with their beach front
'cottages' and million dollar condos.

Home at last. But not to a typical house like most of my fellow civil
servants, the cops, firefighters, teachers and government workers who keep
our cities and county running while struggling to make ends meet every
month. No, home to my 4 bedroom, 4 bath, Tuscan-inspired three-car garage
home in a nice, safe, gated community. Pool, spa, outdoor kitchen, big
upstairs bonus room, the whole deal.

No, I'm not on the take. Please, from who? I don't exactly have major crime
families in my district to play those kinds of games. Good way to end up
dead anyway. And I damn well know I'm not smart enough to handle that kind
of shit! I may be tall, lean, blond, with killer blue eyes and ....nicely
equipped....but I know my strengths. And being smart ain't one of them!

No, my luxurious home was thanks to my dad. His dream retirement
home. Built after my mom died several years ago. He enjoyed it for less
than a year. Then died doing what he loved the most--screwing! I lost count
of all the girlfriends he had since mom died, guess he had one too many. Of
course, a 75 year old guy with a heart condition shouldn't have been
screwing around with two 19 year old chicks while on vacation in
Mexico. Not with both at the same time, anyway!

Left me the house and enough cash to retire on some day. Not being very
good with money--an understatement--I locked it all away in investments so
I didn't spend it all. At the time that was good, I could afford to live
very well on my salary then, but now....

Drove into the drive way. Two other police cruisers parked there
already. One a St. Pete city car, the other a blue Largo P.D. cruiser. Two
of my roommates. Two of four. Alex, the St. Pete cop. Jeff, from Largo P.D.

The other two, Tony, a firefighter for the county, and Rico, an EMT, were
out. On duty or looking for fun or whatever.

Why four roommates? Well, like I said, I'm not good with money. Never
realized what a house like this cost to run. Electric, phone , cable,
taxes. And I don't even want to think about house insurance.  The four guys
pay me enough to cover everything or I'd be here sitting in the dark,
living off soup and crackers!

Five guys in a four bedroom house? Well, simple. Jeff and Alex rent out the
big upstairs bonus room with the attached full bath. They have been
boyfriends since high school. Always dreamed of being cops. Smart enough to
know not to work together in the same town. Tony and Rico have two of the
downstairs bedrooms. We turned the forth bedroom into a home gym. And of
course there's the pool and spa, screened to keep out the bugs, fenced to
keep out my nosy neighbors.

I came in through the garage. Past my pickup truck and Harley. Jeff's
Mustang and Alex's new Dodge Charger parked next to them. Put my stuff down
in the kitchen as I looked out at the pool. The underwater lights were on,
bathing the area in a soft, bluish glow. The house was quiet. But there was
action in the spa. Three bodies.

Leaving the kitchen lights off, I peered out and watched. Three guys
playing in the warm, humid, Florida evening. The tall one on his knees with
his back to me, that was Jeff. I could tell by his short blond hair--like
mine--and muscular back.  The other guy, also on his knees, facing me, was
Alex. The shinny, wet black hair on his head and chest gave him
away. Between them, on his hands and knees, was a stranger. Thin, short and
I bet real young. Taking it up both ends at once.

Sure, Jeff and Alex are boyfriends, but they do like their fun. I walked
into the family room to get a better look. My dick was already hard so I
pulled it out and slowly jerked. My 11 inches of uncut cop meat loved
watching almost as much as fucking. I rubbed the leaking pre-cum off the
head, put my finger to my lips and licked.

Out by the pool I could see my roommates playing hard with the young guy`s
thin body. Jeff's big nine inches deep down his throat. Alex's condom
covered 8 inch prick banging his ass. All three were covered in sweat,
their hot bodies shinning by the pool lights. The young guy on the bottom,
hair shaved so short I couldn't tell the color, sucked Jeff's big dick like
a pro. Saw his own dick jutting downwards from his slender body.

Alex was slamming the guy hard. He was moaning around the big dick pushing
down his throat.  I watched as Jeff pulled his boyfriend's head to him and
they shared a hot kiss. Alex pumped faster. Pushing the poor bottom guy
onto his stomach on the rough concrete patio. Then Alex abruptly pulled
out, ripped off his condom, pushed Jeff's hot mouth down and fed his
boyfriend his load. I could see the sticky, white stuff dripping down the
tall blond guy's chin.

They rolled their boy toy over. Short, a well trimmed goatee, light
covering of dark fur on his chest, shaved crotch with a nice, maybe 7 inch
dick. Jeff moved behind him and grabbed his legs. Lined up his big dick
with the guys hot hole. Paused while Alex rolled a condom over his lover's
meat.

The bottom boy let out a loud sigh as Jeff went balls deep into his
ass. Alex got down and 69'd with him. I imagined the great view he had of
his man's big dick sliding in and out of that tight ass.  Jeff gave their
buddy a hot, fast fuck. Exploded his cop sperm deep up inside of him. Saw
Alex licking the dripping cream shooting from their fuck toy's dick. Jeff
pulled out. Alex quickly slid off his condom, put it to his mouth and
sucked out Jeff's juice.

My hot cop dick throbbed, ready to shoot. As the cum boiled in my balls, I
looked around the family room for a place to dump my load. Half empty mugs
of warm beer were scattered over my new mission-style coffee
table. Perfect! I aimed my leaking cock at Jeff's favorite mug, the one he
brought home from his tour of duty in Germany, back in his army days. Teach
the fucker to mess up the house!

My sticky cop juice shot out of my pulsing dick, mixing with the foam of
his warm beer. The head of my cock dipped into the warm liquid as I shot
off. I swirled the beer over my spent dick, washing it clean. The warm
stuff felt good washing my tired cock.  Of course, later, after I had
changed out of my uniform and joined the guys coming into the house after
their pool-time fun, I couldn't stop grinning as I watched my thirsty
roommate down his warm, cum flavored drink!

-----------------------------------------------

Saturday night, getting ready for work. Not on duty, but as club
security. I worked at one of the hot gay clubs in downtown St. Pete
whenever I'm off on the weekend. The leather bar liked having a real cop on
the door. I liked the extra cash and the perks.

Checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. Looking at the nasty new scar on
my forehead. Thought of the prick that gave it to me last week, the sick
bastard now rotting in jail.

Some fucking pervert bastard. Got called to his place by the
neighbors. Report of someone screaming. Found one drunk redneck fucker
holding down a cute little boy while his buddy was fucking his tight,
virgin ass.

The kid wasn't even ten. I tackled the bastard with his dick up the
screaming kid. The pedo prick fought back, scratching open my scalp with
his rough fist. Then I enjoyed the feeling of my fist connecting to his
jaw, his cry of pain, him falling to his knees as I beat the shit out of
him!  The young boy's crying driving me on to punish the pervert.

The other cops who had responded held the drunk redneck. He was the kid's
own father!  Then I had to help hold back one of my fellow officers. A dad
with a son about the same age as this kid. Knew from the look in his eyes
and his hand on his service revolver that he just wanted to snuff both
bastards. I know I did!

Anyway, got this nasty scar. Doc said it may heal, but hell, it don't
bother me none. Makes me look even meaner--good to scare the shit out of
guys. Or turn on those sick ones who like that kind of stuff. The pain?
After holding that poor boy after his dad's buddy had screwed him and
knowing what he went through? Seeing the blood and cum leaking from his
abused hole?  Trying to suppress all the old memories that came flooding
back into my head? All cause his dad owed the creep some money? Shit. The
scar on my forehead was nothing.  Hell, I was ashamed I didn't get there
faster and stop the bastard!

One more scar, one of many. Looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes went
to my tattoo.  As a county deputy, originally we couldn't have any that
showed over our uniforms--arms, hands, neck, etc. So I had one on my left
arm, an interwoven barbed-wire inspired design wrapping around my bicep,
curling up on my shoulder, all in black ink. Then those-in-command decided
we could have one--just one--showing.

On my next trip Tampa, I visited my buddy Jake, a real hot 20-something
dude. He's real skinny, pale, and covered in tattoo's. And a damn fine
tattoo artist. Jake's also a screamer, you know, the really loud type that
yell a lot when you give them a rough, hard fuck.  I had Jake extend the my
ink down my left forearm, down to where it wrapped around my middle finger.

That had been a few years ago, right after I joined the force.  Since then
he's improved it. Now the tattoo curled up over my shoulder, one strand up
on my neck, the other down my back. Then another strand runs down my chest
and side, down over my left hip. Dark wire strands interweave down my left
leg, running all the way to my big toe. The latest one curling around the
base of my dick.  Jake wants to continue it onto my thick 11 inch prick,
but I don't think I want to do that. Not afraid of the pain or blood, but
knowing that when I run my hand, finger or even tongue over my tattoo, I
can tell that the skin is less sensitive---that's not something a guy wants
his dick to be!!

Got dressed. Skin tight black tank top, with "club security" in blood red
ink on the back. Tight black button fly jeans. Steel toed work boots with
heavy socks. Handcuffs on my belt--safety ones, not the real ones we get on
duty--and my night stick strapped to my left leg.

Headed off to the club. Stopped at the local drug store for some lube and
condoms. The cute young male clerk just took one look at me and
drooled. Saw him get stiff in his loose dress pants. Even saw his hot
nipples got all hard and pointy, obvious through his tight white dress
shirt.

The kid turned bright red when I asked him if they had any more plus sized
condoms, like the two boxes I had weren't enough for tonight. Then he gave
me a weak grin and said he'd have to go in the back and get some. I noticed
he headed for the rest room and not the store room.

I followed him in, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the
stall. Pushed the cute teen down on his knees. Pulled out my leaking
dick. Put the pre-cum covered tip to his lips. Looking me in the eye, his
soft brown eyes staring into my steel blue ones, he opened his mouth and
swallowed. To the balls! The kid was talented. Gave me a good suck job. Got
me all hot and horny.

He pulled his dick out and started stroking. I smacked his hand away. His
look turned to fear as I pulled him to his feet. Undid his pants and pushed
them down, turned him around and enjoyed the view of his round, white butt.

Looked at my watch, didn't have enough time to give the kid a good, hard,
rough fuck like I love to do. So I just rubbed my dripping dick up his
tight crack. He was trembling as I held him close. Fear in his eyes, fear
of what my monster dick would do to him. But his own teen dick was pointing
straight out and was throbbing. I jerked it hard, gripping it tight enough
for him to whimper in pain. Then he shot all over the stall. Hot, sticky
teen boy cum everywhere.

I pulled up my jeans and left. Licking the kid's hot sperm off my
fingers. Tasty stuff.  Whispered that if he wanted more, he'd have to come
find me and beg for it!

Got to the club on time and went to work. Sure, this is a leather/levi/bear
club. But also with lots of regular guys, jocks, twinks, daddies, the usual
mix. Some hot, some not. Some drugged out. Some new and fresh and slightly
scared. Love that look of fear a first timer has when he comes in, even the
smell of it as they wander around and see all the shit that goes on in the
dark corners and the backroom. Not to mention the men's room.

Saw one hot slave being led in by his master. Torn, dirty white tee shirt,
covered by an old flannel shirt, unbuttoned, with the sleeves torn off, and
obscenely short cut-offs. Tall, muscular, blond haired, blue eyed. Slave
collar around his neck. Might be some hot fun later!

One guy gave me a hard look as he entered. Trying to act tough, wearing a
leather vest and chaps, already a little drunk. Was going to hassle my
partner about the cover charge, but one look at me as I walked over with my
hand resting on the butt of my night stick and he quickly shut the fuck up,
paid, and went in.

Took a break to go piss. Walking through the now crowded bar, I stopped to
say hi to the guys I knew. Saw the new guy. Really young, but I'm not one
to question the boss about that. His short, closely shaved head, thin black
mustache, and slender build was just the look that makes me drip. Reminded
me of that kid from the big W, the one I lusted for still, but it wasn't
him. In a tight black sleeve-less tee shirt and jeans. Just a new worker,
cleaning the tables and such shit work, but really cute. Probably one of
the boss's new boy toys.  Derrick, I think.

Hit the men's room. Both stalls full. Full of guys fucking around. Three
urinals on the wall opposite the sinks. Make that four, as a bald, pierced,
tattooed nude stud, ok, he had boots on--bar rules, you know-- was
handcuffed next to the last urinal. On his knees in a pool of piss. His
pissed soaked body shining in the dark light of the men's room.

Never one to pass up a piss slave, I pulled out my sticky dick. Still
dripping from not getting off with that kid at the drug store. Put the head
to his lips. His tongue snaked out and licked the slimy goo off. Then I let
go with a strong stream of hot piss, right into his mouth. The slave gulped
and swallowed as much as he could. The rest ran down his hot, nude body. As
I put away my fuck tool to head back to work, I saw another dude head over,
bend down and kiss the piss slut. Then begin licking his body clean. I was
so fucking horny!

Back in the club. Past a dark corner. One of many. Heard pleading and then
crying. Turned to see what was up. That bastard with the leather vest and
chaps, now really drunk and probably a little stoned from the way his eyes
looked, had cornered young Derrick. The prick had the kid bent over and was
pulling down his jeans, his own 7 inch dick out and aiming for the kid's
tight ass. Derrick was trying to fight him off, but I could see blood
running down his face from where the jackass had already hit him.

"Hands off the help!" I snarled.

Had my nightstick at the sicko's throat in a flash. Yanked him back
hard. He fell to his knees as I slammed him in his jaw with my fist. Down
he went. Kept the bastard there with my boot on the back of his neck until
the other staff jumped in and pulled me off him. Seeing poor Derrick
shaking and crying made me think of that cute kid that I had
--almost--saved from getting raped. Gave the bastard on the floor one good
hard kick before they took him off.

"You ok?" I asked the shaking Derrick as I helped him up.

"Thanks, Trey." He answered, still shaky. "Your bleeding!"

The damn scar on my forehead, still not fully healed, ripped open during
the fight. Blood dripped down my forehead.

"Old scar." I told the frightened teen. "Still not healed up, it's cool,
I'll be ok."

Damn, but the cute young guy, even though he was still shaking, walked me
back to the office.  Cleaned my cut. Sat on my lap while he washed it. Knew
damn well he could feel my hardness through my jeans. Even wiggled his cute
ass as he wiped up the blood.  Our boss came in. Looked at us, concerned.

"You both ok?" He asked, his hand on my shoulder.

"Sure, boss, I'm cool." I winked. "This cutie's honor was worth a little
blood."

"I'm ok, Uncle Mark." Derrick answered.

`Uncle?' I thought, guess that's why he's so young.

"Good, then both of you get your asses back out there and go to work!"

Actually, I went back to work. `Uncle Mark' suddenly needed something from
home and sent Derrick off. Then he was thanking me for protecting the
kid. And his virgin ass! So much for my nasty idea of getting Derrick to
thank me for being his 'big, strong, fearless protector' as he called
me. Would have loved a chance at his tight ass. But not my boss's virgin
nephew!! That stupid I'm not.

2am. Finally off the fucking door and on the hunt. For some fun or at least
to get my rocks off. Still on duty, but free to cruise around in the club
and have fun. Just needed to keep my eyes out for shit like what almost
happened to poor Derrick. Now, I'm the not the first guy to want some
rough, nasty fun. But the bottom has to be willing. Better yet, begging for
it!

Saw a few guys in army uniforms. Not uniform night but they looked hot. If
you look past the fact they got there gear from the army/navy store or
whatever. Course I'm lucky, on uniform nights I could come in a real
uniform--as a cop--but I don't. My police captain is ok with me working a
gay leather bar, but being in my real uniform wouldn't be cool. And I do
get into that army shit. Thanks to a old buddy, anyway.

A real soldier. A kid I went to high school with. He joined the army, me
the sheriff's department. He came back from Iraq last year, where he had
lost part of his leg to a I.E.D.  The poor guy was stuck at the local VA
hospital for a couple of months before they could ship him back out west to
his family. Spent as much time with him as I could. Wasn't long before he
was complaining of missing his girlfriend and being horny. The bitch had
dumped him when he was over there getting his ass hurt fighting for us.

Duke--his nickname--even confessed he was trying to get his male night
nurse to take care of his hard dick, he was so hard up. The prissy little
sissy boy refused. Pissed me off so much I confronted the guy. I even
backed him in a corner and asked him why.

"Why?" I snapped, "We both know you want him."

"I, I, I, do, fucking hell I do." He cried. "How could I not want him?"

But he held firm and even stood up to me, even as scared as he was. Kind of
admired the little prick for that. Not many guys look me in the eye and
object to what I want.

"Then why?" I asked again.

"Cause." He paused. "He`s straight and I ......"

I saw the tears in his eyes and finally understood--told you I'm not the
brightest.

"You don't just want to be used, right?" I quietly said.

His tear filled eyes answered that for me. But what about my poor buddy? He
was getting really depressed, even a sissy fag like his nurse was turned
off by his injury, or at least that was what going through the poor
soldiers head.

Next time Duke bitched how horny he was, I took matters into my own hands.
Ok, mouth. Sucked him dry.  Ok, I may be a hot top stud, but when I'm in
the mood to suck dick, and if it's the right guy, I give one hell of a good
blow job. And Duke needed me. His nine inch dick did, too!

Even went as far as to let him slide that big soldier meat up my tight
hole. Knelt over him as he lay on his hospital bed and slid my ass down
until his dick was balls-deep inside me. Duke just put his hand where his
balls were pressed against my ass and then I felt his dick pump me full of
cream. Then we did it on our sides, his hot dick thrusting in and out until
he shot off another hot load. Showed him then and there that he was still a
man and that he could fuck like one!

"Fucking hell, that was great, Trey." He whispered to me as he slid out. "
Your ass is as tight as a damn virgin."

"What the fuck." He continued. "Are you? You can't be, I know damn well
your gay, that's why you didn't join up with me."

He said that as saw the mess, his cum and my blood on his softening
dick. Sadly, no, I'm not a virgin. But Duke was only the second guy I let
in my ass. Didn't have much choice about the first.

"Duke, no, but it's been a damn long time dude." I told my army
buddy. "Like maybe fucking 20 years ago or so!"

He just looked at me as I said that. I didn't realize he was quickly doing
the math and not liking what he figured. 20 years ago would make me....?
We're both the same age and he was not happy after guessing how old I was
my first time, but he kept his sad thoughts to himself.

Before he left for the left coast, he gave me one of his dress uniforms and
some of his regular combat-issue wear . Love the look of me in dessert
camouflage, knowing it's real and from a real war...well, that was worth my
sore, bleeding butt! Not to mention his peace of mind.

I smiled as I remembered my fun with the horny soldier. Hell, that straight
dude sure knew how to suck. Guess they teach that in army basic training,
along with obeying commands from your superiors.

Hot as hell tonight, I thought as I took off my black tank top. Not too
much fresh meat around, either. Headed for the back room in hope of some
fun. Always on the look out for fresh flesh to screw.

I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the
backroom. Typical bar backroom, dark, sweaty, smelling of sex and
cum. Dirty and dank. Full of hot sweaty guys doing nasty things to each
other. My favorite kind of place!

Walked around on the hunt for some fresh meat.  I knew most of the guys
playing.  Tops getting their dicks sucked dry or pumping smooth, tight
holes....or loose, open, dripping holes, depending on how much of a slut the
dude under them was. Several hot bottom guys. Most knew me and knew enough
to stay away. Hell, I have a rep as a nasty, dirty shit-head of a guy. And
my 11 inches scares some off, too. Not to mention my violent streak. But
sometimes I get lucky.

Kept cruising around. A couple of masters whoring out their slave boys. One
in particular always after me to use and abuse his slave. But the kid was
just a little too swishy for my taste. Not that he couldn't take a
pounding, it's just he didn't get me hard and dripping.

Most of the masters I know have `borrowed' me to give their slave boys a
good work over or to break them in. I get the fun of `training
them'--beating the shit out of them even--and their masters get a nice,
submissive bottom boy back.

A few dads with their `sons' were around tonight as well. Older guys with
younger (legal) age kids always have turned me on. Been know to help out a
dad educate his boy now and then. The difference between training a slave
slut boy and a son slut boy is simple.  Son's can be slapped around, but
not really hurt, bruised or marked. Though spanking is always allowed, and
often needed.  Slaves, though, got the fist in the jaw, stomach or where
ever I wanted. Or the knee to the groin or back. Or my work boot.....

Hot damn! Finally, some real hot, nasty shit like I wanted. That tall blond
slave from earlier. Fresh meat. On his hands and knees. A hot leather dude
humping his dick down the guys sucking throat. His master watching. But
what caught my attention...

The blond guy, now just wearing his white tee shirt, dirty jock strap and
boots. The back of his white shirt striped with red. Blood red. Welts on
his arms and neck from the whipping I must have just missed. Blood seeping
through the dirty white tee shirt from the blows across his back.

Not blood soaked, just enough to have a small trickle running down his
back, down his smooth ass, deep into that hot crack.

The guy riding his throat moaned as he shot deep down into the slaves
sucking mouth. As he pulled his long dick out, I saw the slave's hot tongue
licking the prick clean. My own 11 inches wanted some of that slave.

As I looked at his master, he nodded, giving me his permission to use his
property. I reached down and pulled the blond slaves head up. Looked deep
into his eyes. Saw lust, desire, pain and wanting. Just what I was looking
for. If he had been stoned or strung out, forget it. I like them wanting,
needing, begging me. This stud would do...for tonight.

With the blond kneeling at my feet, looking up at me, I grabbed his dirty
white tee shirt and pulled. My biceps flexing as I ripped it in two,
revealing his welt covered back. The lowest whip mark was the freshest and
deepest. Some of the slave's hot blood still seeped out of the torn,
punished flesh. I ran a finger along the welt. Then I put my blood covered
digit to the blond slave's out-stretched tongue. He licked it clean, his
blue eyes never leaving mine.

His pink nipples were all pointy against his smooth, muscular chest. His
dick bulging out in his jock. Sweat soaking his chest, dripping down his
forehead into his eyes, and running down his back to mingle with the
blood. His blue eyes widened as I pulled out my dick. Didn't give him time
to admire my meat, just grabbed his head and shoved it down his throat. He
gagged. Most do. But he was well trained and knew how to suck.

As I fucked his hot throat, my hands were tracing the whip marks on his hot
body. I saw his master smile at me as I shoved three fingers up the blond
slave's asshole. Tight, hot and wet. Not too used--yet. Pulled out my
sticky fingers, wet with a little blood. Blood that had run down from the
welts on his back, but dripping more used sperm than anything.  Pulled my
dick from his mouth as I gave him my fingers to lick clean. His eyes met
mine as I rammed my fingers back up his tight hole. I wanted to clean out
all the sperm lubing it, so I could give him a nice, rough, hard ride.

Got behind him on my knees and lined up my leaking dick. Too dry to get
in. Fuck! Then I got a nasty idea. Taking my condom covered dick, I ran the
head of it over his welts. Pressed hard enough to get some blood, enough to
act as lube. He was watching me over his shoulder with a look of pure lust
as he saw my 11 inch dick, lubed with his own blood, aim for his hole.

I reached and wrapped one strong arm around his throat, pulling his head up
and back as I slammed in balls deep. All 11 inches in one hard, painful
thrust. My blond slave boy (maybe 19 at the most) let out a loud moan as I
impaled him. Half strangling him with my grip around his throat, my meat
buried up his tight, screaming ass, his eyes rolling back in his head as I
fucked the hell out of him. My sweat covered chest pressed against his
sweat and blood covered back.

The nasty welt across his shoulders started bleeding. I ran my tongue over
it, tasting his hot blood. We both moaned. I drove in deeper. Seeing the
smooth, pale skin on his neck still unmarked, I sank my teeth in. He
screamed.  I tasted blood on my lips as I bit harder. He screamed
again. His body shook, shuttered, spasmed. His dick exploded in his dirty
jock strap. The blond slave's tight ass clamped down on my invading 11
inches and my dick tensed at the pressure, swelling up even harder. My
groan matched his cries as I pumped my cop scum deep into his abused body.

He collapsed as I pulled out and let go. I felt his master's cum hit my
chest as he got off. It mixed with my sweat and the blond slave's blood. I
pulled my overfull condom off. The slave turned his head, opened his hot
mouth and stuck out his tongue. I turned the condom over and watched as my
used sperm drained into his waiting mouth. His tongue snaked up into the
used condom and sucked out all my juice. Now that's a good slave!

-------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning, 11am. Back to work. After a morning work out, breakfast and
swim first. Then off to HQ. Had an email from my captain, he wanted my ass
in his office at 11am sharp! Something about that pervert I'd beaten up
last week when we caught him fucking that kid. Shit. Not a way to start off
the new week.

Surprised to see another officer with him. Not a county cop. FDLE. The big
boys. Captain Smith. My captain told me to go with him. I did.

Captain Smith started off by congratulating me on getting that creep. Told
him I was just doing my job. He told me to cut the shit.

"Beating the crap out of that perv was not quite what your supposed to do,
Officer Turner." He told me.

"Yes, sir."

"Then why?"

"Cause...I didn't get there in time to stop the prick, sir!" I confessed.

"Could you have?"

"No, not with traffic, but that's no excuse. That poor kid was hurt so
bad..." I told him.

"You'll be glad to know that the boy is ok. And his dad and that creep are
behind bars for good." Officer Smith told me.

"Call me `Snake'." He suddenly said.

"I'm Triple T or Trey." I offered.

"I know." He said with a smile. "I've heard a lot about you and think you
may be just what I need."

"Need? For what?" I was even more confused now.

"To get creeps like them. Only worse. A lot worse." Snake told me.

Snake went on to tell me that Victor, that guy who I caught with his dick
up inside the screaming kid, worked for a `club' on the east coast. He
bought kids from their parents, drunks, addicts, poor people desperate for
money. That way the kids wouldn't be reported missing. His specialty was
boys and teen guys. He broke them in in front of their parents/guardians or
whoever was selling them. Made them accessories to the crime and at the
same time scared the kids into thinking that no one cared what happened to
them.

Lately Victor had been dealing with buyers who wanted teen boys who they
could use as slaves. Torture even. Snake told me that they wanted to do
stuff that made even the boy fucker sick. But he was stuck. Or had been
until he was caught by us. Now he wanted our protection. Which he would
get, but for a price.

"Trey, he'll set us up to get in with those bastards, but it's not
easy. They are very careful. Always make sure they get the goods on the
parents or guardians too. That kid's father would have had to bring the boy
to the east coast and screw him in front of the buyers. Or worse." Snake
said, disgusted.

"And how do I come into all this?" I asked.

"Simple. I need a guy to bring a boy to them, show off what a good slave
boy he is, then sell him to them. These guys like their young victims well
trained and prefer that the parents do it. I know your into some pretty
heavy S+M shit." He said, looking me straight in the eye.

"Yeah, so? I don't do kids and don't want too!" I snapped. "So how would I
get into...."

"Easy, dude. I picked you cause your one bad ass gay top stud. And I have
the perfect boy to match you with."  Snake told me.

"A boy? How old?" I began.

"Actually he just turned 18, so he's legal. And he's into stuff that even I
never heard of. He's gay and loves it rough so you won't be hurting or
using him--hell, I don't think he ever found anyone too rough to handle."
Snake gave me with a funny look. "Hell, Trey I'm gay too and the stuff he
likes is so violent that it turns me off, otherwise I'd be out there with
him going after those bastards."

"What's it in for him? Besides being my sex toy?" I asked warily.

"The kid was abused all his life, not sexually fortunately, but physically,
emotionally, the whole shit, by his foster parents." Snake told me. "He was
rescued by us cops and wants to be one. Going to school for it right know.
He's supposed to be a cadet this summer anyway. So he`ll help us."

"Another fucked up kid, great!" I sighed. "But if he wants to help...does he
look young enough for them to want him?"

"See for yourself." Snake said.

He got up and went into the next room, then came back with a young, tough
looking, skinny, short kid with long, dirty black hair.

"Trey, meet Kristof." Snake said.

"Kristof?" I replied.

It was that kid from the big W, "the mole!!" The one I couldn't get out of
my lust filled thoughts! Looking at me with those soft gray eyes, still
looking lost, alone and scared, but.....