by Marc Tremaine
WARNING: This story is a product of imagination; it is not a depiction of real life. It involves sexual acts between two or more males of the human species. If you are offended by that idea or its explicit description, regardless of whether it's the act that offends you, or the age or relationship of the participants, don't read this story. If writing about any type of sex between males is illegal in your nation, or in your particular municipality, county, state, province, or other political subdivision, don't read this story. If your age makes it illegal to read this story, don't read this story.
Copyright (c) 1998 by Two Voices, Ltd. All rights reserved. You have the right to download this story to keep on your computer, and to print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and copyright notice. You do not have the right to otherwise reproduce or repost this story. You do not have the right to rewrite this story. You do not have the right to use this story to make any amount of money for yourself or anyone else. If you do not understand these rights as I have listed them for you, my address is above: ask before acting.
I was speeding.
Of course I was speeding. Everybody speeds. It's the umpteenth fucking amendment to the U.S. Constitution: "Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom to speed." And if you're not speeding because you're in a hurry to get somewhere, then you're speeding because you're pissed, and the more pissed you are, the faster you speed.
I was really pissed. Mega-pissed. My dad's birthday had just gotten fucked, royally. Well, legally he's not my dad since he never adopted me after he married mom, but the asshole who donated the sperm for me just before splitting was definitely not my dad. And I really wanted this one to be special. It's his fiftieth birthday, for Christ's sakes. He's supposed to enjoy it.
Only...the stripper I had lined up as a surprise (something dad would really get off on) canceled on me. The asshole delivering the more than a little obscene birthday cake dropped it on my doorstep. My lover--ha!--and I had a major fight. He was pissed because I was spending so much time lately with dad. Well, hell, dad's been goin' through some rough shit right now. Mom has been dead for fifteen years, and dad finally falls in love again, only it's someone who doesn't love him and can't see him for dirt. Dad's always been there for me, gettin' me through it when Tommy died four years ago. So I was gonna be there for him and fuck Rick if he doesn't like it. Not that there's much fucking going on in my house lately.
I should have known better than to get involved with a twenty-year-old. Besides the fact he's twelve years younger than me, the only thing we really have in common is that his big cock fits real nice in my mouth and ass...and vice versa. Only Rick has been getting back at me lately by being too tired for sex, or much of anything else. And he walked out on his job. I don't mind a lover quitting without a new job to go to if the work is intolerable...I've got enough money to support both of us in real style until shortly before the millenium after next...but this was just a whim. Or more of a temper tantrum.
So all of that shit came to a boil. And we're screaming at each other...well, he's screaming...me, when I'm angry I just get real tight-lipped, and cold and quiet and calm and reasonable...which just makes Rick even more angry...and we're in the middle of all this when dad calls and says he's been called in to work, some major emergency and they needed all the help they could get, and he was sorry, but I'd better cancel the surprise birthday party I was planning for him.
Now how the fuck he knew about the party I'll never know. This isn't some goddamn science fiction story where he's a mind-reader, but he always seems to know everything. Well, I do have one secret from him. But he sure as hell knows everything else.
When I told Rick the party was off he just looked smug, and said something about "finally" being able to spend some time together. So I surprised the fuck out of Rick...surprised the fuck out of me, too...by grabbing his shoulders, slamming him up against the refrigerator, getting my face real close to his and bellowing at him to shut the fuck up. I left him there looking real stunned, grabbed up my keys from the counter, and left. I think the glass cracked when I slammed the back door, but I'm not sure.
I headed out of town, leaving the top down. About a half hour north I got routed around an incredible chain-reaction pile-up: cars, trucks, vans, from just dented to shreds of tiny metal; police cars, fire trucks, ambulances, tow-trucks were everywhere. I was sorry for anybody who got hurt, but I was still angry, and with all the cops tied up in the accident, I didn't have to worry about someone nailing me. I slammed my foot down.
A few minutes later I barely made the turnoff to the highway up into the hills. I'm a damn good driver and I was starting to feel real good about the road, the car, the air across my body, the buzz in my legs and ass from the vibrations of the complex symphony that is a convertible racing around mountain curves on a hot sunny day.
That, of course, was when I heard the siren.
I slowed down, of course. But on this road I couldn't just stop. Not with all these curves, and the possibility that some other idiot with the same idea as me might come around one unexpectedly. I lifted one hand off the wheel, and wig-wagged a sort of "what now?" gesture.
The cop used the loudspeaker to tell me there was a roadside park a half mile ahead, and to tell me, "Don't even think about trying to get away."
Well, duh. Does the back of my head really look that stupid?
I drove very carefully and found the turn-off. The road continued to hug the mountainside, but there was a huge outcropping on the right that the state had converted into a remarkably beautiful park. A couple of picnic tables, of course, and a lot of trees, and an absolutely incredible view of the valley. I came to a very careful stop. The Highway Patrol car stopped a car length behind me. We just sat there for a moment or two.
I didn't get out of the car. I knew better. Although I did keep an eye on the rearview mirror. The motor was still running, I guess to keep the air conditioning going, and they were obviously running my plates through the DMV. They wouldn't find anything, and it was a corporate car, so he wouldn't get my name.
I heard the engine go off, and one of the doors open. I looked in the mirror at the cop getting out, all decked out in his uniform, brilliantly shined black boots, crisp short-sleeved shirt. And that was just the beginning. Younger than me, but not too much. Tall, a bit on the slender side but nicely muscled. Hair the color of ripe golden wheat, cut real short...not Marine buzz cut, but close...more hair, thick and curly and darker gold, peeking over the throat of his white tee, and shining down his arms. Thin nose, square jaw, an honest-to-God cleft, narrow lips that weren't smiling at all right now. A nice package between his legs it looked like, though I couldn't be sure, since his pants weren't tight enough to have that sprayed-on look. He just stood there, legs spread, back straight `cause of that thick pole rammed up his butt...huh!...don't I just wish...adjusting his mirrored shades.
I was at the start of every faggot's favorite, or almost-favorite, fantasy: the I-got-stopped-for-speeding-and-fucked-by-a-stud-cop fantasy. I've jacked off before...actually, fairly often...to that scene in my head, but in real life that's all it is--fantasy. I should know. But no matter how stiff the fine was for this, this stud was going to provide me with great jack off material. Especially since it looked like I'd be doing a lot of that in the near future. Rick was on his way out of my life, but he just didn't know it yet.
Yeah, the start of a great fantasy. Until I heard the cop car's passenger door open, shifted my eyes in the rearview mirror sideways from stud-boy's crotch, and a second cop got out. Double shit, piss and fuck. Triple! shit, piss and fuck. And a goddamnitalltohell thrown in for good measure.
The second cop adjusted his cap as he shut the door. Now this was a fucking Marine buzz cut. Black hair flecked with silver, actually a lot of silver. Wide face, full lips, stocky build. Dressed like the young one, and lots hairier. No tee-shirt, and the grey-and-black chest hair looked like a damned jungle. The kind any self-respecting fag wants to run his hands through, and work his tongue into the depths to find a set of big nipples. A definite belly, but not sloppy. The pants were loose like he was either hiding something special or hiding nothing at all. Actually, it was the former.
The cussing wasn't because he was ugly or something. He's a beefy stud and nice looking, even though his five o'clock shadow starts showing around nine a.m. Nope, the cussing was because even though I'd never seen him on duty, I knew him...and I knew exactly what was going to happen. The young stud wasn't going to get anywhere near me. The older cop would give me a fifteen minute lecture on driving around half naked. Did I mention all I was wearing was a pair of short--very short--cut-offs and nothing else? And about driving without identification, much less with a license. Did I mention my wallet was still on the kitchen table? And the gross irresponsibility and the sheer goddamned stupidity of driving up this mountain with this kind of road and these kind of cliffs at that kind of speed.
I couldn't see his eyes behind those shades they all wear, but I swear to God they were looking right at me in the rearview mirror. He paused at the rear of the car, with his partner standing back and to the side. His head was tilted like he was really paying attention to the license plate on the car, but I knew his eyes were locked on mine in the mirror. He adjusted his belt slightly, unsnapped his holster. What the fuck?
He came up beside the door. I still hadn't moved. I also didn't turn my head. The Ferrari is very low slung and my eyes would be right at crotch level. I decided to just stare patiently ahead until he got through with the lecture and then I could go.
"License and registration, sir." His voice was low, cold and carrying. I glanced in the mirror. The young one was directly behind the car now, a few feet back, standing with his legs slightly spread. My dick throbbed a little. Fine. Now he was showing off for his new partner.
"I'm sorry, but I left my wallet at home...officer." My voice was low, too, and carrying. Two could play that game. Actually, I could play it a lot better than he could. It's what I did for a living, after all. And although the words were very correct and very polite, there was something not quite right about that last word...deliberately not quite right. I figured maybe if I got him a little pissed we could just get the whole damned scene over with and I could head back home to finish the fight with Rick.
I figured wrong.
"Get out of the car, sir." Now that got my attention. I looked up at his face, not even caressing his crotch with my eyes, and got an even colder stare through the shades. Fuck. He was serious. I wasn't sure whether to be nervous or pissed. My temper was leaning toward pissed....royally pissed.
"Yes...officer." Again, the right words. Again, the wrong intonation. Well, not wrong for the way I intended the word to sound. In fact, just right. Damn, but I'm good at what I do.
I opened the door of the car. He had of course gotten out of the way so I couldn't try something funny with it. I unfolded myself and stood in the open door. He tilted his head slightly to look up at me. The only thing I got from my real father...nope...my biological father was my height, my build, and I guess my dick. I'm six five, my hair is the color of Maureen O'Hara's in "The Quiet Man" and it's down slightly past my shoulders when it's loose, like it was right then. Kind of the wind-swept look, considering the speedometer had said something about 110 for a while. No hair on my chest, lots under my arms, kind of thick and curly, just like the line of hair, dark brown with a red glow to it, that started just below my belly button, and then fanned out to a nice thick bush. For my height and build I'm lucky, I still don't have much in the way of hips, and the jeans were slung real low, so the top of my crotch hair was real visible.
I looked down at him. And when I look down at someone, even if they're the same height I am, they tend to cringe, inside if not outwardly. He didn't. Inside or out. Instead, his lips just tightened a little. "Step to the back of the car, sir."
Cold, polite, distant. Shit, put him in the car with me and the top up and I wouldn't have to use the fucking air conditioner. I tried again in the second before I followed his orders. Didn't work again. As I turned, I noticed him fiddling with the flap of his holster, and then his hands were at his sides. I go barefoot a lot, so the feel of dirt and gravel on my soles didn't bother me.
As I "turned the corner" to the trunk, he spoke again. "Place your hands flat on the trunk of the car, sir, and spread your legs." His voice was quiet, powerful, overriding the lifted eyebrows from his partner that I could see out of the corner of my eyes. I did as he said, feeling very stupid and very embarrassed and very angry. I'm wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. What the fuck was he going to do, search me?
Nope, not some jack off fantasy groping and pawing at me, leading to me being shoved down on the trunk and taken like a helpless plaything of this stud cop. Nope, he didn't touch me. Yeah, he searched me, all right. But he didn't touch me.
The sadistic bastard.
He stood almost completely between me and his partner when he did it. Which was his second mistake. I guess to his partner it must have looked like he was going over me by the book...well, not any fucking book I'd ever heard of. If I'd been fully dressed he would have started with checking my shirt collar, and under my arms, and then patting down my arms, and then around my chest, down my front, around my back, down to my waist, then squatting to start with my right leg, working his way up to my butt, then repeating with the left leg, then my waistband.
He did all that...without actually touching me once. I have no idea how the fuck he did it, but the palms of his thick, callused hands, with the hairy backs and knuckles, were like a damned molecule or something away from my skin. The non-touch was like electricity, my whole body was tingling. When he reached around me to cup my pecs, to check my "shirt pockets," my tits sprang miniature hardons. Probably to match the one under my shorts. It was all I could do to keep from trembling, to keep from moaning with a combination of lust and fury, when he finally stopped and stood up behind me. I could feel the heat of his body. He was maybe two molecules away from me, and directly behind me now. Mistake number three.
"You may stand up and turn around now, sir." Mistake number four. So he thought he was going to fucking humiliate me and let his partner gawk at the fag with the hardon pushing out his jeans. No fucking way. I stood up...only not quite like he said, or meant. I stood up fast. And on the way up I planted an elbow in the pit of his stomach, hard enough for him to whuff! the air out, pivoted, yanked his gun out of his holster with my left hand, tossed it to my right and had it pointed at the two of them before his ass hit the ground. The kid just stood there, his mouth dropping open, when he saw me thumb off the safety.
"Stand up...officer." This time he did wince. I wasn't sure if it was from the blow, although I'd pulled the punch enough so as not to do serious harm...doing most of your own stunts gives you some unexpected skills...or if it was from the gun in my hand or the expression on my face. Picture a muscular, six-five guy, his hair all wild, a loaded gun in his hand, a look of uncontrollable rage on his face...about to go postal on two cops. Under other circumstances I'd get another nomination for this.
Only now what the fuck was I going to do?
Add a sadistic smile to the look, for one thing. That gave me a couple of microseconds to think, and to decide. They embarrassed me for no fucking good reason...amazing how all of a sudden the guilt included the young stud who had just been standing there, but who also tilted his head real quick for a look a the boner shoving out my cut-offs...so turnabout is fair play. It was too late to say, "Don't fuck with me, boys" in my best Crawford imitation...which is actually pretty damned good...not that either one of them would pick up on it. Doesn't anyone watch old movies any more?
I motioned the older cop to back up, but not too close to his partner. I looked at the blond and said, "Take the gun out of the holster, drop it, kick it away. And do it fucking now!" My voice was so cold and my face so intense his hand even started to move, and then he stopped. "You sure you want to accept the consequences, cop?" He looked over at his partner and I guess some sort of signal passed between them, since I couldn't see their eyes behind the shades, and the blond did what I told him.
Of course, he didn't do it very well. Kind of a sullen, little-boy kick that moved the gun just a few inches. I shifted the gun slightly so it was pointing toward the older one. "You want to re-think what you just did, kid...and maybe do it right this time?" He nodded, and then a bit off-balance reached out and kicked the gun to me. I kicked it back under my car without taking my eyes off either one.
"Shades. Off." There was just the faintest look of surprise on their faces before they took the sunglasses off, and with almost identical movements, tucked one earpiece inside their shirts so the glasses were hanging out...you know, that real butch cool look.
"Cuffs." Christ, at this rate they were going to start thinking I hardly knew anything except short sentences. Well, that would change. "You--cuff the kid and then pitch the keys on the other side of those picnic tables." There was the merest glint of anger...or something...in his eyes, but he did what he was told. I made the kid do the same thing. Now there were two CHIPS in front of me, with their hands cuffed in front of them, and I still wasn't quite sure what to do with them. And then I figured it out.
Once again I used the gun to move them, away from the car, and over toward the tables. "I'm just as good with my left hand as I am with my right, so don't do anything stupid," I told them as I shifted the gun to my left hand and used my right to open the driver's door, and grope inside to turn the engine off and get the car keys. I guess they were thinking maybe I'd be distracted or something when they realized what I was about to do, `cause their muscles started to tense like they were going to rush me. But I'd had to do this stunt once, and I'd rehearsed it until I had it down cold. My eyes didn't move away from theirs and neither did my concentration. I walked back to my car and dropped the keys onto the front seat.
"Kid." Damn, but that got his goat. He got real tight-lipped every time I called him that. "Call in and tell them you've just stopped a speeder up in the mountains, and as soon as you give him his ticket you're taking a break. And don't make the mistake of trying to use any of the codes to warn them. All that is gonna do is really piss me off."
Once again he glanced at his partner, who nodded with about a 1/32nd of an inch tilt of his head. I'd rolled down the window so all he had to do was reach in for the mike. He opened his mouth as he brought his hand up and I said, "And don't try the double-cough, or throat-clearing crap either." Man, I was really getting off on this power trip. He tried to be so cool about it, but he was real disappointed he wasn't going to get to be a hero by warning dispatch that something was wrong with a precisely-placed pair of coughs or throat-clearings.
He did what he was told, and then moved back beside his partner.
"Now, since you guys think it's so goddamned funny to humiliate a fag, let's see how you feel about it. Kid, drop your pants."
Christ, but the expression on his face was priceless. Too bad I didn't have the camcorder going right then. Oh well, my memory will have to do for that one. All I had to do was shift the gun toward his partner, and real quick the kid started struggling with his belt, and zipper, and then with trying to peel his pants and boxers down. Amazing how much harder it is when you can't put one hand on each of your hips and shove the damned things down. But he managed. He had a lot of incentive.
The package was as nice as I thought it would be. Kind of shriveled up, but that was understandable, considering the circumstances. His balls were the kind that tended to stay up close to his cock, it looked like, in kind of an orange-sized bag. He was cut, nicely-shaped, had a thick set of pubes that looked real soft, that same kind of bronze-gold color as his tan. He looked kind of cute with his pants around his thighs, cuffed and blushing.
"Okay, your turn, old man." The sneer on the last two words earned me a glare, but he did what I said. Same shriveled effect on his cock as with the kid, but you could tell it was thick and powerful. Uncut. Large balls that hung down real loose in the sack, and a fucking jungle of black-and-silver crotch hair.
"Here's the deal. Kid, your partner is gonna give you a blow job. Your job is gonna be to keep from gettin' hard while he sucks your prick, and if you can't manage that, then to keep from blowin' a wad. You understand?"
Rage, and pain, and humiliation battled in his face...shit, this kid probably couldn't tell a lie with a straight face...with the anger winning out for just a moment. He was clearly going to rush me, no matter how stupid that was with his hands cuffed and his cock and balls flopping in the breeze, and his legs hobbled with his pants and boxers. But he was going to try...until his partner said, "Bobby, don't be stupid."
The kid's muscles slowly unwound while something like despair crossed his face. I almost broke...but didn't. "But I...he...I can't...you...." He was incoherent, but his partner apparently understood.
"Look, he's got a gun...yeah, I know it's my goddamn fault we're in this mess...but if putting my mouth on your dick is going to keep you or both of us from getting shot, then that's the fucking way it is. Just think of...fuck...the multiplication tables...or how disgusting it is for me to suck your cock...or whatever...and you don't get hard, and he doesn't get his jollies. Okay?"
The young cop nodded, but wouldn't meet his partner's eyes. The older one looked at me. "You got a preference?"
Now that threw me. The fucker knew it, too, because he proceeded to explain very carefully as if talking to a deliberately stupid child, with the words evenly spaced: "Do you want me to suck him standing up or on my knees?"
He just nodded and got in front of Bobby and carefully got down until his face was right at his partner's crotch. I could see him take a big breath, and then he bent his head forward. Bobby was looking everywhere but at his partner kneeling in front of him, and finally settled on squeezing his eyes shut. He gasped a little, which told me his cock was at least partially inside a hot stud cop mouth. Since they were...occupied...I felt I could take the risk of backing up and getting into the large leather bag on the passenger front seat. The bag that held the camcorder.
It was a little difficult to get it out one-handed, but I managed, although with frequent glances to the blow-job pair to be sure I didn't get surprised. But they weren't paying any attention to me. My own cock was drooling from the sight of the older cop bobbing his head in Bobby's crotch. My camcorder is real easy to operate one-handed, and the battery was fully charged. This was going to be fun. I started it and then circled around until I was looking at them from the side, being very sure to get plenty of footage with their faces. I didn't want there to be any question about who was sucking and getting sucked.
What a fucking trip. I was getting to direct my own live porn video. Whatever the kid was thinking about it was pretty much working. His cock had gotten a bit longer, and it was certainly slimy with spit, but it was nowhere near hard. I decided he needed some help. "Play with yourself, old man, and then play with Bobby's balls."
The voice coming from his right startled him a little and without taking his mouth off the kid's prick he glanced my way, and really glared when he saw the camera. But he also saw the gun which was still under easy control. He grabbed his own meat with his left hand...and it was already more than half hard. A couple of strokes completed the hardon. Well, well, well, well, well. I grinned my biggest shit-eating grin.
I liked what I saw. The foreskin pulled back to show a shiny reddish-purple head, kind of missile-pointed, and then widening out to a very thick shaft. A single drop of precum oozed out the hole, and I caught it on the tape. Then I zoomed in on the sight of the older cop's heavy, hairy hands playing gently with the kid's balls, rolling them around, kind of tugging a little on them. And the kid started to get hard.
"Suck his balls, cop. The kid obviously likes to have them worked on."
"No, please...." Bobby half-moaned. "I don't...please don't do this to me."
The older cop bent his head, and used his cuffed hands to hold the kid's balls up, and lick them one by one, and then take them in his mouth. He even managed to get both of them in his mouth at once and this time the kid moaned for real and his dick got all the way hard. It jutted straight out from his body, longer than I thought it would be, and nice and fat. Without the director calling the shots, the older cop moved up and took the hard prick into his mouth...just the head at first, and I could tell he was swirling his tongue around it, and around the piss slit. And then real, real slow he started moving his head forward, his mouth a wide oval as he sucked Bobby's dick all the way into his throat. His nose was buried in the kid's crotch and he was breathing deep through his nose, inhaling the hot male scent I knew had to be there. Christ, was I fucking jealous right then.
He pulled his head back very, very slowly until his mouth was only holding the cock head again, and the air caressed the wet shaft. I looked down at the older cop's crotch and his prick was leaking a steady stream. But he wasn't playing with himself, he was still playing with the Bobby's balls.
"Get your fingers wet." My voice was soft, pitched to carry, but I don't think the kid really heard. He was too far gone in the pleasure, so far gone he'd forgotten there was a maniac holding a gun on him and forcing him to do this. The older cop heard, and quickly soaked his fingers before swallowing Bobby's cock once more.
"Spread your legs, kid." Bobby did what he was told. There was something...hesitant...about the way the older cop knelt. I couldn't actually see his shoulder muscles start to move his hand up between Bobby's legs, but I could sense a moment of hesitation, and then the tiniest slump, almost impossible to see, before he did it. I couldn't actually see what was happening, of course, but I could tell from Bobby's actions just what was going on.
He really gasped when he felt that finger start to go up his butthole. Then he almost held his breath, and the older cop's right arm wasn't moving, like he was holding his finger part of the way in and letting Bobby get used to it. And then his arm moved and pretty soon his finger was buried all the way up Bobby's hole. Bobby was fucking loving it. A hot mouth and throat sucking down every inch of his prick, and a fat wet finger up his ass. He'd been holding his cuffed hands up and out of the way, but he brought them slowly down, rested his hands on the back of his partner's head, his fingers unconsciously stroking the short hair.
He moaned louder, and I was pretty sure a second finger was now up his hole. Bobby was beginning to lean forward just a little, which thrust his stud ass back onto the fingers that were fucking his hole, and with his hands on his partner's head he had leverage to start his hips thrusting, start face-fucking the older cop. "Oh, Christ, Dan, Jesus, I'm sorry, but I can't...you got me...oh dear God...."
I moved slightly so I could get a clear shot of the three fingers that were ramming in and out of Bobby's butt, and then back to Bobby fucking Dan's face, harder and harder, with long strokes that pulled his cock almost all the way out before Bobby clamped his cuffed hands on the back of the older cop's head and slammed his head down into Bobby's crotch. Bobby's entire body arched backward like a bow being strung and his mouth opened in a scream that would have started an avalanche all the way west in the Rockies if it hadn't been silent. They were frozen there, the young cop with his butt stuffed with fingers, the older one's throat rippling as he swallowed spurt after spurt after spurt of Bobby's juice.
I should have stopped there. Should have just let it go. They knew where the handcuff keys were. I could have, should have, just jumped in my car, and dropped their car keys at the edge of the road as I drove off, knowing they wouldn't dare do anything since I had the tape.
I couldn't stop.
I didn't stop.
Dan was gently sucking his partner's softening meat, slowly sliding his fingers out of what had to be a pretty tender hole right about then. Dan relaxed back on his haunches after giving Bobby's dick head a final gentle swipe with his tongue. His prick was standing up hard in all that fur, hard and dripping...just like mine.
"Hey, Officer Bobby...." My soft voice drifted across the space separating us, coiled about his head, gently tugged his face toward mine, pulled his eyes open. He was barely conscious, not even aware that his hands were still on his partner's head, one index finger rubbing the short silver-black hair. "On your back."
That got him awake. Whatever knowledge he had before he pulled me over, in the last however many minutes it had been he'd learned a lot. And he knew those three words meant he was going to have somebody's dick crammed up his ass, very, very soon. I could see his butt cheeks clench as he tightened his hole. He tried to hide the dismay in his eyes as his look darted to the gun and my cold face and the hard cock stretching my cutoffs, and then back to my face.
I used the gun to gesture the young one down, enjoying the view as he laid down where he was, flat on his back, his cuffed hands covering his crotch, his knees tightly together, legs bent, feet flat on the ground...his toes just barely touching his partner's knees. His face was utterly still.
"Old man." The glare that earned me should have left just a scorched spot on the ground. It didn't. "We've got a new game going here. It's called fuck your partner." His dick twitched slightly although his expression was as still as the other one's. Still...but with a difference. There was something going on behind those flatly staring eyes, some...calculation. I backed up a step and a tiny, smug grin flickered across his face and vanished almost instantaneously.
"Lift your legs, Bobby," he said quietly. They looked at each other, and I heard the older one say, "I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you." Except...he didn't say a goddamn fucking word. Not out loud.
Bobby spread knees wide, and lifted his legs. With his hands cuffed he couldn't wrap his arms behind his knees to hold them up, so he did it with just the strength of his back and legs. Dan bent over and used his own cuffed hands to raise the kid's butt and then plunged his mouth down on the cop's hole. Bobby gasped; I stifled one. I couldn't see the tongue but I knew what was happening; I eat ass the same way. Enthusiastically. Tongue wasn't as filling as three fingers or a cock, but goddamn it was a turnon. And Bobby was starting to get turned on again, tossing his head back and forth, trying to stifle a little whimper, as Dan's tongue swirled wet and deep.
I was so horny I could hardly stand it. I set the camcorder on the ground, pointing it at the rim job. Hopefully it would get the fuck to come as well. Using my free hand I unbuttoned my 501 shorts, dropped them to the ground, stepped out of them. The younger one's legs were trembling, whether from lust or strain, I didn't know, but he kept them up in the air. But I only saw that out of the corner of my eye. What I was really concentrating on was Dan's hairy ass. Which was nicely up in the air while he was tongue-fucking Bobby. The kind of muscled ass, wide, hard...so hard looking you figure if you slam your hips against it while plowing his hole, you're gonna break your fucking pelvis.
I licked my lips. That's when he raised his head from the rim job and looked to his right, directly at me. His lips were shiny with spit and ass juices, a strand of saliva running down to his chin. His eyes grabbed mine, held mine. "Don't even think it." His voice was even, cold, and it made me shiver. He turned back to his partner, dropped spit on his fingers, blended spit and precum and his cock and positioned himself at Bobby's hole. He expected me to obey, gun or no gun. I knew I wouldn't...couldn't.
I'd never though how difficult it might be to fuck in that position if both men are cuffed. How do you hold a man's ankles and spread his legs wide while you thrust your cock deep inside him, if your hands are only a few inches apart? How do you balance yourself if you want to be on top of him, folding him nearly in half as you ram your dick hard and fast, if you can't rest your weight on your palms on either side of him, or grab his shoulders and pull him to you?
They were managing. I wasn't there for either of them, not in that moment. Bobby gasped loudly when Dan's cock head invaded him; moaned even louder when Dan slowly edged his hips forward, burying his pole up that probably virgin butt inch by wide and careful inch until those heavy hairy balls were resting against the sweat-gleaming ass of his partner. Dan bent forward between Bobby's spread legs, his torso and hips pulling Bobby up until Dan could rest his arms above Bobby's head, elbows touching Bobby's shoulders, his cuffed hands forming a triangle peak. Their faces were very close. Bobby's hands were between them.
Dan slid his cock partially out of Bobby's ass, and then in again, adjusting his position slightly. Bobby moaned again, not in fear or pain, but lust...and something more. Bobby's hands came up, wrists together, palms spread wide as his legs were, and he very slowly rested his hands on either side of Dan's face...before pulling him down, opening his mouth, and devouring Dan with a passionate kiss. Dan began moving his hips, thrusting gently in short strokes up Bobby's butt.
I couldn't stand it any longer. I dropped spit on my own dick head, lots of it, smearing it around with my own precum, then added more spit to the shaft. I dropped to my knees behind the older cop, shoving his legs apart. He froze on an out-stroke, his mouth still captured by his partner. My hand guided my cock head to the target and quickly shoved it in. He didn't flinch. He fucking didn't move.
I almost exploded then and there. Christ, I was so ready I was sure I was going to do a combination Krakatoa-Mount St. Helens imitation any second. His ass was so fucking hot. I swiped more spit on myself, fairly sure it was going to boil off the second it got inside him. And get inside him I did. Not viciously, not fast, I just started pushing and he...he fucking opened and took me in. It was my turn to moan, to whimper. I'd never felt anything like this and God knows I'd fucked plenty of ass since that first time when I was twelve and convinced my fifteen year old neighbor that he'd really enjoy it if he let me mount him. I can still hear his scream of delight when I exploded inside of him.
Just like I was on the verge of doing with the older cop. I forgot everything...where we were, who I was fucking, everything. The gun slid from my left hand onto the ground, and I grabbed Dan's shoulders with both hands, digging into those hard muscles, using them for leverage as I desperately began ramming my cock in and out of his hole, feeling his heat, feeling his moistness, feeling the play of muscles around my meat as talented as Itzhak's fingers on the violin the last time he played for his supper at my place, feeling his hips rotate, his hole open to allow me in, clamping down as I pulled out, feeling...nothing but feeling itself, moving my hips ever faster until my body was tingling and I threw back my head and howled "Oh, God, yes!" in a voice that echoed across the canyon, and then I came and came and came.
And collapsed in a quivering, sweaty heap over the older cop's back.
I came to my senses just a second...a millenium...too late. Bobby had been held motionless by the older cop kissing him while I fucked Dan, but now he suddenly began thrashing about, twisting his strong arms to his right, shoving Dan up and back and then he had the gun in his hands. Shaking hands. A definitely non-regulation grip. His voice was equally shaky as he told me to get the fuck away. My internal debate about whether to move from behind the safety of his partner's body lasted for only long enough for the older cop to veto whatever vote it was I had just taken. "Move."
I slid my soft prick out of him, faintly aware of a long trail of thick cum oozing out, too.
Dan still hadn't looked around at me when he said "Back off and stay there," while he uncoupled from Bobby. They were still occupied getting separated, logic said they weren't really paying attention to me, I could grab the camcorder and run. But I couldn't muster the votes to override his veto.
Dan sort of scrambled back from Bobby, ducking under Bobby's legs and moving to Bobby's right to stand up. Bobby was still on the ground, his legs still spread wide, but his arms were no longer trembling and the gun was pointed directly at me. The front of me isn't any more stupid than the back of my head. I didn't move. Except my eyes.
I glanced covertly at Dan and my eyes widened. He was still hard! Without words he bent and helped his partner get up; the younger one never taking his eyes off me. I don't think Bobby was aware that his partner was standing there with a hardon, or that his own prick wasn't soft and exhausted any more. The arms might not have been trembling, but Bobby's voice was. "You have the right to remain silent, motherfucker. You have the right to an attorney, you scum cocksucker. You...."
"Don't." Dan touched Bobby's right wrist with both cuffed hands; the younger cop stopped Mirandizing me. "Keep him there. But don't do something stupid." He waited patiently. I don't think he knew I could see...or maybe I could only sense...the squeeze-relax of his fingers on Bobby's arm, gentle, reassuring. Bobby's nod was almost non-existent, but it was there. My...joke...my...anger and stupidity...had gotten out of hand. But at least I was going to live. I thought.
I couldn't help watching Dan pad over to and beyond the picnic tables, sweat shining all over his body, glistening in all that hair, his meat pointing the way, all those muscles rippling and flowing with each movement. I couldn't help it, my cock twitched, started to stir. Bobby glanced down at my crotch, hurriedly brought his eyes back to mine. But even while watching Dan, my peripheral vision could see that Bobby had gotten a little firmer, too.
Dan found the handcuff keys, brought them back, and being very careful to stand so he was never between Bobby and me, he uncuffed Bobby. While he was doing it, his prick grazed Bobby's thigh, leaving a wide shiny trail. From the almost-panic in Bobby's eyes, I think he was hoping no one noticed his shiver or that his cock was even longer and thicker now.
Bobby surrendered the gun almost reluctantly, and then being sure to keep out of his partner's line of sight, unlocked Dan's handcuffs. Both sets dropped to the ground. Bobby tried not to look at Dan's prick. He really did try. But he couldn't help it. Any more than I could. Either Dan had taken a handful of Viagra just before getting in the car, or he was getting off on this. All of it. I doubted very much he had a prescription.
Dan wig-wagged the gun, signaling me forward. "Down." I dropped to my knees, licked my lips on finding myself at eye-level, mouth-watering-level with that glorious cock. "Uh-uh, macho man. All the way." Damn. I did what he said, kneeling with my weight on my hands for a second, but then thinking better of rebellion since I knew what he clearly wanted. I went all the way, head resting on my hands, butt stuck up in the air. My hair fell forward, covering my face.
I sensed, felt, rather than saw the older cop walk behind me. I felt something hard prod my asshole. Hard...but not slick and warm...warm from the sun, yes, but the metal of the barrel wasn't slick at all. I remained very, very, very still.
The older cop's voice was very distinct, but I thought I detected an almost ragged edge of lust when he said, "I'm going to fuck him, Bobby...find out what it's like to fuck an asshole who has to use a gun to get sex." Caught off guard by the remark, I knew I'd lost control because I could feel myself blushing...and when I blush it's a goddamn full-body blush...the color of my hair...making my white asscheeks where the bikini covered as bright red as if I'd gotten one of those hardon making spankings you read about in the porn stories.
Bobby was making no effort to control his voice. It had gone high and almost hysterical. "No, you can't. Arrest the bastard. Charge him with...with...oh, fuck, charge him with something!"
"Bobby, you really want everyone in the station watching me suck your dick and then you getting your ass plowed? And me getting fucked too?"
The silence from the young cop was answer enough.
"Can you cum again?"
Dan was being very patient, not condescending. "You think you can get your dick hard and cum again?"
"Yeah." Bobby hesitated...then spoke more firmly. "Yeah. I could."
"Good." Dan was kneeling behind me. His left hand was squeezing my butt, his thumb probing my hole. His right hand rested on my butt...and so did the gun he was holding. "Now, macho man. I'm going to put the gun down and slightly behind me. Are you stupid enough to think you have a snowball's chance in hell of getting to it before I do?"
I shook my head "no."
"Good boy." He patted me like he patted his mastiff, which brought the blush back again. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, caressed me. He put the gun down, and then he had both hands on me, his strong fingers crushing my ass, his thumbs spreading my cheeks wide. He bent forward and tongued me like he'd done to his partner. Not nearly as long, but enough to get my ass whimpering and begging for more. I heard him spit a couple of times and knew where it was going.
"Bobby. Get down in front of him, lift his head and fuck his mouth until you're good and hard."
The cop didn't say a word. He just did what he was told. He grabbed my head roughly, and it felt like he was going to use his thumbs to force my mouth open. No need for that. I'm good at sucking cock, and my mouth was already open and my head moving toward him the moment his prick got within inhalation range. And inhale it I did. All the way down to his dusty, sweaty, incredibly exhilarating bush. I think he set an American record for zero to hard. But he was still holding tight to the sides of my head, and since he'd been told to face fuck me, by God and superior officer's orders, that was what he was going to do. Not that I was complaining, mind you.
Bobby was just starting to get into it when I clamped down on his dick real hard. Not with my teeth, of course, but with sudden pressure. Resulting from the sudden pressure behind me. The older cop hadn't bothered with the one-finger, two-finger, three-finger, let's open him up easy before we plug his butt approach. A quick thumb-jab in and out, and then he just shoved every wide fucking inch up inside me. If my insides didn't want to get out of the way of the invader, too fucking bad. I'm good whether I'm topping or getting topped, and when I'm bottom I can take good-sized cocks, but I sure would have appreciated a little slowness. I'm not saying I deserved the go-slow-at-first routine, just that it would have been nice.
I could live with a rough fuck. At both ends. Which is exactly what I was getting. Bobby wasn't really pulling very far out but he was jabbing hard and deep; Dan was pulling all the goddamn fucking way out and then plunging in again. As good as I am I was too far gone to even try to pretend I was being raped at almost-gunpoint. You can't rape the willing.
Christ was I willing.
My own cock had surprisingly gotten hard again. The surprise wasn't that I was hard again at all, but it's just that I'm not usually that quick to recover. After a few more strokes, Dan shoved all the way in and stopped. I thought for a second it was all over, but then realized I couldn't feel any cum shooting up the tube under his cock and spraying my hole.
"Bobby, you hard?"
Is the Pope Polish?
Bobby must have nodded. He was still holding onto my head and his cock was buried in my throat. I figured I had maybe two minutes of oxygen left before brain death. Well, I may have been brain dead to have started this whole thing, but damn! what a way to go.
Dan started to say something...then stopped, cleared his throat. The artificial kind of throat clearing where you're stalling for time because you have to say something you don't really want to say, or something you have to say only you're afraid of the consequences.
"You gonna cum again?"
"Yeah, sure. I'm gonna blast a fucking load like you wouldn't believe." There was a pause while his brain caught up with his mouth and he realized his partner would believe what kind of load his balls could churn out.
They both said "uh" at the same time and then became silent. This was turning into a fucking tea party not a fuck-party...and the oxygen clock was ticking for the party of the first part who wanted to be the party getting fucked.
Dan was holding onto my sides, just at my waist, and despite all this delay he was still hard inside me. He gripped me so hard for just a second I was sure I'd have bruises, and then he took a breath deep enough to be heard and said, "Well, then, you've got three holes you can cum in."
We were both kind of slow on the uptake. My "huh?" was mental, Bobby's was out loud. Then Bobby said, "You've got his ass, I've got his mouth, that makes two holes according to my count. You maybe need to go to remedial math, Dan?"
"Three, Bobby. His mouth...or...well, my mouth or my ass."
With only a few seconds to go on the oxygen clock, Bobby dropped back, resting his ass on his heels, which pulled his meat far enough out that I could breathe again. There was a long silence. A very long silence. Long enough for Dan's cock to start going soft. Long enough for Bobby to go limp in my motionless mouth, and then get hard again. Another American gold at the Good Will Games!
He was kind of breathless when he finally answered. "Tell you what...you think he's gonna scream again when you cum inside his hole?"
Dan's voice was puzzled. "Yeah. He's definitely a screamer."
"You mind if his mouth ain't plugged with meat when it happens?"
Dan must have indicated "no" because Bobby pulled his slimy hard prick out of my mouth and stood up.
"You scream, too, Dan?"
"Once in a while...if things are really right."
"You think they may be right, right now?"
Dan's voice was grinning...a big shit-eating grin. "Definitely."
"So how about I help you keep from screaming? Your choice. I plug your throat with cock, or plug your ass, and keep my hand over your mouth."
I wanted to say, "Ouch! Not so goddamn fucking hard!" right then. Dan hadn't moved but all of a sudden there was this fucking piece of the Alaska pipeline up my butt.
"My ass." There was a world of calm certainty, and incredible lust in those two words. Bobby moved a couple of feet and then straddled me. I could tell from the sounds that he was getting his dick real wet, although with the load of cum I'd already blasted up Dan's hole, he wouldn't really need any lube.
Bobby's left leg lifted and then he was at my left again. Dan suddenly withdrew all the way, and I gasped with the emptiness. "On your back."
There is a God. Yes!
I was only a nanosecond off my personal best in getting onto my back with my legs up to my shoulders, my hands locked behind my knees. Dan moved forward, not bothering to spit on his cock again, and slid inside me in one smooth easy stroke. He let me lower my legs to his shoulders, bending forward so my ass would raise in the air, while he balanced himself on wide-spread hands by my upper arms.
He held himself motionless again, and then there was a look of complete bliss on his face when Bobby knelt behind him, and obviously slid his meat up his partner's ass. Bobby's hands were digging into Dan's shoulders, just like I'd done, only I don't think Dan had a look of ecstasy on his face like that when I was the one fucking him. I could live with that. But Dan was working his cock around and around inside my butt, teasing me, sliding it in and out, all the way, part of the way, varying speed and direction and length, which meant his own ass was pretty much giving the same workover to Bobby's prick. And it was Bobby who started moaning.
I put my hand on my cock, smeared some of the precum around and then stopped very quickly. Not again. Shit! A couple of squeezes, maybe one stroke and I'd be blasting a load. It wasn't fair! I was tempted to whimper that out loud but I'd been raised better than that and I knew what dad would think about that kind of whining.
The double fuck started speeding up. Hoping to delay the inevitable for me, I reached up to play with the older cop's tits, but Bobby shoved my hands away almost as hard as he was plowing Dan's ass. Then both his hands were around Dan's chest, squeezing his pecs, thumbs and forefingers rolling and pulling on Dan's hard nipples.
"Fuck me, Dan, fuck me hard," I half-whispered, half-moaned. "Fill my ass with cum." He started moving faster then, and I reached up to stroke his face, maybe pull him down for a kiss, something, anything, and just barely touched Bobby's right hand. In that split second something happened between us, and the focus shifted from three men each wanting to get their rocks off to two men wanting Dan to get his rocks off better than he ever had before. Nope, we weren't competing for him, we were just...working together.
Bobby let me have Dan's nipples and I tugged on them and tweaked them hard, making him moan louder. Bobby's hands were all over Dan's body, then up to his face, both hands clamping down over Dan's mouth, several fingers shoved inside, finger-fucking his face. Bobby glanced down at me, realized from the expression on my face what I really wanted, and gently shoved Dan forward. I let go of Dan's tits, took hold of his face, and pulled him down into the deepest, most passionate kiss I'd ever given anyone except my late lover.
Dan was kissing me back, moaning into my mouth, his arms around my body, under my shoulders, pulling me to him, compressing me against him, and all the while his hips were thrusting faster and harder and deeper, and Bobby was riding him for all he was worth, until Bobby fell forward, wrapping his arms around the two beneath him as best he could. Somehow Bobby and I were moving in unison, timing our motions, the kiss, the tit-twisting Bobby was managing to get to, everything working together so that Dan was going into a fucking frenzy. Every muscle in his body began trembling, he began screaming into my mouth and the Alaskan fucking pipeline broke and spewed sperm oil everywhere in a long steady flow that just kept pumping and pumping and pumping. Somewhere in the far distance I heard Bobby shouting, heard/felt/tasted his cum spraying the walls of Dan's butt, while the pressure of Dan's hard hairy belly on the base of my cock and on my balls sent me over the edge as well.
For an infinity that was probably only a minute or so we lay coupled and gasping. Then we slowly, and considering all that had happened, surprisingly gently separated again into three men. My aching, quivering legs were flat on the ground, spread wide, while Dan knelt between them. Bobby's hands were still on Dan's shoulders, quietly kneading the muscles; he bent his head, licked sweat away from the spot where neck and shoulder join, murmured, "My turn next," into Dan's ear. Dan nodded, letting us bask for only another minute or two, and then took charge.
As fucking usual.
He got up, stuck his hand out and when I took it practically launched me into orbit. He laughed when I stumbled and almost fell down. Bastard. "You better get dressed and head home," he said. I nodded, scooped up some of the cum that was running down my chest, and licked my fingers clean. But when I leaned over to pick up my shorts, I felt his hands on my back, holding me in place while he knelt down behind me, and that talented tongue worked its way into my hole so he could suck out the load of cum he'd just put up there...way up there. And when he was finally finished vacuuming my ass, he stood up, pulled Bobby to him and shared his own cum with Bobby in a deep kiss.
When they finally broke, I was dressed. Well, I'd actually been dressed for quite a while, since a pair of cutoffs is real easy to put on. Even actors can figure it out...if they have a few years of training in method acting first.
Bobby looked sort of stunned, when I popped the tape out of the camcorder and handed it to him. He looked at Dan when I jingled my keys and started around him for the Ferrari. "You're...just gonna let him go?"
"Well, I do know where to find him if I...want him...again." He called to me. "Wait a minute, though." He walked over to his clothes, pulled a pad of tickets off the clip on his belt. I raised my eyebrow, projecting stunned amazement. I do that very well, especially when it's precisely what I was really feeling.
He came back to us, and started writing. Bobby looked back and forth between us. I think he was having a difficult time coping with two naked CHIPs officers and a half-naked civilian having an amicable conversation while one officer writes a ticket without having seen a driver's license.
"Bobby, this is my stepson...."
"Son," I corrected him firmly. Dad was always so punctilious about not getting between me and the biological prick who sired me.
"But your stepson is a movie...." Bobby just looked at me in amazement. I was used to it. I haven't had a role yet that called for my real hair, so mostly I wear wigs, and even with the tabloids, most people don't put the six-foot-five redhead together with the six-foot-five dark-haired actor.
Dad smiled at me and paused in the writing. Okay, a joke is a joke. "I thought I told you to cancel the surprise birthday party."
I grinned back at him. "Shit, dad, this was as much a surprise party to me as it was to you."
That's when he handed me the ticket. I looked at it and then at him. "Christ, dad, did you have to put 125 down? Couldn't you just have said 80 or something?"
"Talk to your sister. Maybe you can talk her into changing it to a parking ticket. Although it might be a good idea to wait until she finishes trying that malpractice case. She's a little tense right now. They brought in some judge from another district...I think his name is Mayhew...and she say's she's getting some strange vibes between him and this hot-shot defense lawyer the doctors have hired."
He stopped talking, and looked over at Bobby as if to say something, but didn't. I gave him a verbal nudge. Actually, it felt more like shoving him off the Sears Tower, with him screaming something about "you bastard" all the way down.
"You think maybe you ought to tell him how you feel?"
Dad didn't move; just kept on looking at Bobby, not saying a damned word. I was afraid I was going to have to write a script for him, including appropriate stage directions, but apparently there was a whole lot of dialogue going on in the silence. Bobby's eyes widened, followed by a full-body blush (not as glamorous as mine of course, but cute), and a tiny smile that kind of trembled as if he was afraid of blinding us if he really let loose.
Dad didn't have that much restraint. When he looked at me I wanted to step back from the brilliance. I hadn't seen that much light from anyone, for anyone, since the last time I held Tommy in my arms. He cut back the wattage and gave me a wicked little "payback" grin, before he said, "Looks like we both got our birthday wishes."
My turn. After my stomach stopped its own Sears dive, I started to stammer something, but his expression stopped me. Dad doesn't have much patience with bullshit. He leaned close to me. "You know, actors can be so goddamned slow. I've wanted to get into that briar patch for a long time."
I guess I didn't have any secrets from him after all.
As I drove away from the roadside park, regretfully watching two naked cops kissing and wishing I was still with them, I wondered whether Bobby would put up much of a fuss if we had another...uh...family get-together. Then I smiled to myself. I already knew the answer. If dad wanted it to happen, it would happen...and from the way dad kissed me just before I got in the car, he wasn't quite through with the briar patch just yet.