Date: Sun, 8 Apr 2001 12:05:54 +0100 (BST)
From: Furry Frank <furryfranks_email@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Heavy Haulage 3

"Heavy Haulage Three"
April 2001
By Furry Frank, UK
furryfranks_email@yahoo.co.uk

____________________________________________________________________________

Warning! The following is intended for adults over eighteen years of age
only.  Please note that the text contains graphic descriptions of sexual
acts between males. If you find such matters distasteful, or if the perusal
of such material is illegal in your circumstances, you must go no further.
Brand names are used without implication or prejudice in regard to
intellectual property rights.  Names, places, persons and organisations
herein are fictitious.  Any similarities are purely coincidental. [Addenda:
Please note that the coppers described in this story are a work of fiction.
Real British coppers, lorry drivers, council employees etc. are the epitome
of professionalism and integrity and never behave in the ways described
herein.]

____________________________________________________________________________


Foreword

This story continues directly onward from "Heavy Haulage 2 - Hauled Over"
which you can also find archived at this site.  It's really the second half
of the same story, so you'd be best to read the first half if you haven't
already done so.  The whole was too big to post together!  Hope you enjoy
it!


Part Four "Community Policing"


Steve grinned merrily to himself when he'd gone.  Most of his shagging had
been similar one off encounters, but this lad might well be worth a second
go he thought.  He certainly knew what he was doing he reflected, idly
wondering how many other drivers had had their cocks in him or his up them.
He climbed back into the drivers' seat, cursing when he felt himself
sitting in a large wet patch of spunk that had dripped off the lads' cock
when he came.  He also noticed the amount of mess his mighty bollocks had
splattered over the dashboard.  Steve wiped a small gob off the steering
wheel with his finger and licked it off, tasting the salty liquid along
with a combination of his KY and the lad's arse juices left behind.  He was
just wondering what he was going to use to clear up the mess before he
settled down when the drivers' door was abruptly pulled open with a loud
bang.

A pair of strong hands suddenly grabbed Steve's right ankle, just above his
boot and pulled hard.  Before he could comprehend what was happening he
felt himself being pulled out of the cab feet first.  As he slid into the
foot well, banging his head on the floor, he just managed to reach out
quickly and grab the heavy steel tire iron he kept under the passenger
seat, just in case he ever needed it.  The bastard who'd grabbed him pulled
him straight out of the cab, and Steve fell to the ground several feet
below, smacking face first into the tarmac, grazing his forehead and biting
a chunk out of the inside of his cheek.  Steve managed to keep his grip on
his tire iron, and started pushing himself to his feet, a surge of pain and
adrenalin sending his anger mounting, when a large highly polished black
Doc Marten boot smashed into his ribs.  Steve shouted out, his sides
bruised and aching, dropping the tire iron onto the road with a noisy
clatter.  The size eleven boots drew back again and planted a final sharp
kick into Steve's stomach as he tried to get up, smashing the breath out of
him.  Steve groaned and coughed, retching and struggling to suck in a
breath of air, the fight kicked out of him.  He tried to curl up into a
ball to minimise the damage of any further kicking, but realised after a
moment, whoever was trying to kick his head in had stopped.

Bruised and little shaken, Steve turned his head to try and get a look at
whoever was fucking him over.  He wondered if it was some hijacker trying
to steal his lorry or maybe even some psychotic local queer bashing gang
who'd taken objection to what he'd just been up to in the cab.  Steve
squinted against the torch beam shining into his face and groaned with
absolute misery when his eyes focused on the outline of a couple of big men
in full police uniform.  Steve began to climb up to his feet again,
spitting out a mouthful of dirt and spit, tinged pink with blood.  Before
he managed to ease himself to his feet, without warning, he felt the blunt
end of a regulation plastic baton slamming into his back, driving into his
kidneys.  Steve couldn't help himself from crying out again, falling back
on his face with a new bruise and a painfully mashed kidney.

"Fuck off!" grunted Steve, sick of being kicked about.  Instead of a
response, he felt a large heavy boot press into his back, pinning him to
the ground, while a pair of strong hands roughly twisted his wrists behind
his back.  He heard the crunch of a ratchet before the cold metal bracelets
of a pair of handcuffs being pressed around his wrists and squeezed into
place, digging sharply into his flesh.  An experimental twist of his hands
confirmed that they were the latest Hiatts police issue, fitted with a
rigid plastic bar between the cuffs, holding his wrists apart but firmly in
place, rendering him completely incapacitated.  The copper gave the
bracelets a last squeeze to make sure they were secure before using his
boot against Steve's hip to roll him back over. Steve came to a rest wedged
against the front tire of his lorry, underneath the open cab door, covered
in dirt from the road.  He glanced down the lay by and noticed a white
patrol car with the blue lights and coloured stripes down the side pulled
up behind his lorry.  He'd been to busy in the last fifteen minutes to see
or hear the cops arriving.

The policeman with the torch had at last stopped shining the beam into his
face enabling Steve to get a good look at his captors.  Judging from the
smug grin on his face, it was the big copper with the torch who'd done the
dirty work, rubbing dust from the polished toe cap of his Doc Marten
against the back of his calf while balancing on one leg.  Glancing up at
him Steve realised he looked like a complete bastard.  He looked much like
any other particularly big aggressive copper, but bigger.  He was at least
Steve height, about thirty-five and built like a Viking.  He had a massive
barrel chest with thick arms swinging from a pair of broad shoulders, which
might have been chiselled from granite under the uniform.  He'd plenty of
meat on him, evenly spread out, with a belly that hinted at as much muscle
as there was fat.  The copper had a brutal, thuggish face, enhanced by his
expression of contempt as he glowered greedily down at Steve from beneath
the brim of his police helmet.  His face was as meaty and animalistic as
his body, with small brown eyes completing his pugnacious mug.

He was in standard police uniform, with a woolly navy blue pullover
covering his regulation blue shirt and a thick leather belt, creaking and
jangling with assorted pouches, baton holsters, CS gas spray and a short
wave radio, crackling with indecipherable nasal voices.  Steve's position
at his feet, sitting between his spread stocky thighs made him feel like he
was standing between a pair of oak trees.  His regulation trousers came
together with a large hefty looking bulge between his legs.  Steve looked
at the bulge and reckoned if the size of the rest of him was anything to go
by, this pig was packing something pretty special in his pants.  His
partner was in the same uniform to the last detail, but looked considerably
less Neanderthal than the brute who'd been booting him around.  He was
tall, but fairly slim with a good-looking, youthful face with cropped
ginger hair showing under his helmet.  If it weren't for the uniform, he'd
have looked like any other young bloke.  Steve reckoned he was probably
still a probationary P.C. judging from his deference to his vicious older
colleague.  He too was staring at him with ill concealed disgust, tapping
at the tarmac waiting and watching for his brutal colleague to act.

The bigger policeman broke the silence, swinging his baton and tapping it
firmly against his tree trunk thigh.

"Well what have we got here then?" he announced to himself, with the same
Welsh accent Steve had heard earlier, if a lot more deep and gruff.
Without waiting for a response he grabbed Steve by the scruff of the neck,
pulled him to his feet and manhandled him around the front of his truck and
down by side away from the road.  His ginger colleague followed, swaggering
behind.  Steve was getting worried.  If they decided to beat the shit out
of him, no passing motorist would see a thing with the lorry hiding
everything and the cuffs gave him no chance of fighting back.  Steve
reassured himself.  Just because they were a bit heavy handed didn't mean
they were really going to do a number on him.  The police weren't that bad
these days, he hoped.  Nonetheless, the big copper slammed Steve into the
side of the cab, knocking his breath out of him as the steel hit his back.
With a practiced flourish, the meaty policeman brought his baton under
Steve's chin, wedging him position and lifting his face to meet his.  His
tone was soft, menacing and patronising as he leaned in close, breathing
onions, the brim of his helmet nearly hitting Steve's forehead.

"You're nicked boyo.  Im not having you fucking around on my patch!"  His
attitude brought a spark of resistance from Steve; his indignation at being
used as some a pig's ego trip triggered his anger.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Steve responded, figuring out they must
have been passing and guessed what he'd been up to in the cab.  The misted
windows were something of a give away.  Steve tried wriggling out from
under the baton, only causing the policeman to increase the pressure under
his chin.

"Fuck off out of it and leave us alone!" snapped Steve.  "Who the fuck do
you think you are.  You cant just go kicking folk about when they've done
fuck all!"

The policeman ignored him.  It was obvious in the present circumstances
that they could do pretty much what they liked.  For some reason, despite
his situation, Steve found the thought mildly arousing.  The policeman
began again in rather officious tones after removing his baton from under
his jaw.

"Done nothing wrong, my arse!  You're parked illegally for start you dirty
cunt.  Can't you read?  There a sign on this fucking lay by saying 'No
HGV's."  If there was Steve hadn't seen it.  "Besides, we saw your
boyfriend getting out.  Pretty obvious you'd stopped off for more than a
statutory rest period.  If we'd pulled up a little sooner we'd have caught
him as well, you dirty pair of bastards.  He fucked off over that
embankment the moment he saw us coming.  As it is you can face the
consequences down the station on your own."

"Fuck off.  I don't know what your on about.  I just gave him a light,
nothing else," replied Steve, trying to sound convincing.

"Bollocks!" replied the copper, "What the fuck's that then?" he asked,
pointing with the end of the baton at the couple of used Durex lying near
them under the cab's passenger window.  'Shit!' Steve thought.  He had to
admit the evidence was mounting against him.  He was desperately trying to
think of some way to wriggle out of this.

"So what?  It's none of your business what I do in my truck anyway,"
replied Steve.  The policeman broke into an evil mirthless grin and prodded
him in the chest with his baton.

"That's not what the law says, son.  Your truck's parked in a public place,
and whatever degenerate practices you get up to in it are therefore in a
public place as well.  So fucking that bloke in there was an arrestable
offence."

"So what if it is, I'm not hurting anyone.  Have you lot got nothing better
to do?  Why don't you go and catch some fucking burglars or something."

His ginger colleague found his opportunity to stick his oar in.

"Well we've found ourselves an arse burglar for a start tonight haven't
we?"  He grinned at his own joke, which pissed Steve off something chronic.
It made him even angrier when he noticed his smile made him even better
looking.  Still, public official or not, he was going to have a bloke his
own age taking the piss. "Should you be out this late on a school night?"
retorted Steve, with as much righteous scorn as he dared.

"Fuck you!"

"What with carrot top? Sure your balls have dropped yet?" responded Steve.
He regretted it the moment he felt the other big copper pinning him against
the wall, releasing his baton before bashing its heavy plastic length into
Steve's guts on top of the bruises caused by his boots.  Coughing, Steve's
knees buckled and he gave in to the pain and slid groaning to his knees
down the side of the cab.  He made a mental note that goading policemen out
of public scrutiny when its two on one leads to grief.

"That's enough shit from you," continued the big copper, slipping his baton
back into the leather sleeve attached to his belt.  He rolled a big gob of
spit around his mouth and spat onto to the ground near Steve's
boots. "You're under arrest for public order offences."  To Steve's ears
that sounded like a pretty flimsy excuse for nicking him.  There was no
real evidence and they couldn't easily prove when, where or even if he'd
been up to anything.  The illegal parking was bollocks and they certainly
couldn't nick him for it.  They'd probably just bang him because they felt
like it and work out what offences he'd supposedly committed later.  If
they couldn't come up with anything they'd let him go, pleased to have
wasted his time.  Steve realised angrily that there was pretty much fuck
all he could do about it.  The pair of bastards had him over the proverbial
barrel.

The large policeman glanced at his colleague, wiping spit from his bristly
moustache.  "Right.  Get him in the car, were taking him in."  He
punctuated his order with a sharp kick at the sole of Steve's boot.  As the
ginger policeman pulled Steve to his feet and pushed him toward the patrol
car, the large copper introduced himself and his cohort.

"Incidentally," he commented cheerfully, "The arresting officers are me,
P.C. Evans, and ginger minge here is P.C. Williams."  P.C. Williams threw
him a displeased look at the remark but made no comment.  His stout
colleague grinned at him.  Steve ignored the friction between the two
morons and nodded toward his truck.

"What about my fucking truck?  I'm responsible for the vehicle and the
load.  You can't leave it here all night unattended."

P.C. Evans fixed him with a cold stare.

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you.  You've plenty enough to deal
with now.  We'll make sure it's locked up after we've taken the details and
had a look around for further evidence of your mucky behaviour my lad."  He
turned to P.C. Williams who was standing around looking useless, fiddling
with the cable of his radio sticking up from under his uniform pullover.

"I'll search the cab.  You make our guest comfy in the motor, then we can
check over this massive heap of scrap metal."  Steve gritted his teeth.
The tractor unit was barely a couple of years old and in damn good nick. It
took a real bastard to refer to a nearly new Scania as a piece of scrap
metal.

P.C. Williams led Steve toward the Vauxhall patrol car and pushed him into
the back seat, slamming the rear door shut behind him.  He stood outside
the door talking into his radio while P.C. Evans fetched the tachograph
disk and the keys from the ignition of the Scania after disappearing into
the cab for a search around.  Steve was relieved to see that the big
policeman locked his truck up properly after him as he climbed down from
the cab door, the movement stretching the dark material of his uniform
trousers tautly over a pair of meaty, muscular backside, the seam riding
into his crack, defining the shape of each large slab of buttock.  The
burly copper was soon planting the same broad arse into the driver's seat
of the patrol car after struggling to squeeze his considerable bulk in
through the door.  He threw his helmet onto the back seat next to Steve and
rubbed a few itches out of his shaved black scalp before arranging his
baton and equipment belt, making himself comfortable to drive.  Steve was
anything but comfortable, bruised and sore from the kicking with the tight
cuffs behind his back beginning to gouge grooves in his wrists.
Additionally, his arse was still sore from the hard shafting he'd just had
and his balls felt sticky.  To finish it all off he could smell a faint
trace of vomit in the back of the patrol car, undoubtedly left by a
previous occupant.  He watched as P.C. Williams had a nosy around his
lorry, pencilling into his notebooks the registration number, maximum
authorised mass from the plate on the side and the haulier's name on the
side of the trailer.

While Williams was busy sniffing around Steve's truck with his notebook,
P.C. Evans occupied himself with listening to his police radio and
scratching his crotch, getting his bollocks comfortable.  He let out a
large coarse belch before twisting his massive frame round in the drivers
seat to look over his solid shoulder at Steve.  The cramped interior made
him seem all the more massive by comparison.  He rested the back of one
large hairy mitt on the back of the front passenger seat as he turned
around, the furry knuckles scarred with the undoubtedly frequent use he
made of his fists.  He grinned at Steve unpleasantly and started off
talking in an incongruously cheerful and conversational tone.

"So what did you get up to with that bloke then?  Suck his cock did you?"
Steve glared at him, biting his lip, determined not to rise to the bait.
If he wanted to provoke him into an excuse to beat him up, he'd have to try
harder than that.

"No?  Did you fuck him then?  Or did he fuck you.  Had a big cock did he?"
Steve tried to ignore him, as he gloated, grinning at him lecherously.  The
policeman seemed to be enjoying himself, looking at Steve with an
expression somewhere between contempt and genuine curiosity about what he'd
been doing.

"I bet you let him fuck you.  Fucked you like a girl didn't he son?  Did
you like it then?  Like having a big hard cock up your rear end? Do this
sort of thing often do you?"  Steve was getting worried.  The copper was
ranting like a moron.  He seemed to catch Steve expression and pulled
himself together.

"Does your company know about what you get up to in your cab when you're
supposed to be working?" Steve frowned when he started to think about the
possible consequences.  P.C. Evans saw Steve's worried look and put the
boot in again, metaphorically this time.

"Well, they will now, after we've informed them."  P.C. Evans grinned
evilly and turned back round to start the ignition to keep out the growing
cold, leaving Steve to chew that one over.

P.C. Williams finished his notes and climbed into the patrol car, reporting
their arrest over his radio as P.C. Evans drove off, taking Steve to the
local nick to book him in.  As they chugged their way toward the police
station through the city evening, the full reality of the situation Steve
had landed himself in began to dawn.  Mulling over P.C. Evans's parting
shot, he realised that this was serious.  He couldn't see them securing a
conviction, but the facts would get back to his employer and the
consequences of that weren't pleasant to think about.  His employer would
probably sack him on the spot and could wave goodbye to the job he'd always
wanted to do and enjoyed doing.  Shagging strangers in his cab was less
than likely to be received with enthusiasm by his haulage firm.  Even if
they didn't finish him on the spot, they'd get rid of him at the first
opportunity as a taint on the masculinity of the industry.  Facing his
fellow truckers would be a nightmare: He'd definitely end up with his head
kicked in by the bigots in the lorry park.  Ruth would be inconsolable.
The one bloke out of the whole motley crew she fancied turns out to be gay.
That was even before he had to explain it all to his folks and his
housemates.  With the balance he owed on his credit card, he'd have no
chance of being able to pay off a hefty fine for months.  He'd certainly
needed to get his balls emptied, but in hindsight, it wasn't worth all of
this shit.  Steve churning thoughts and emotions added to the nausea
worming its way through his stomach.  He tried to shake himself out of
self-pity and deal with it the best way he could as they rolled down the
main road and drove into the first small town.  Steve could do nothing but
sit uncomfortably and stare at the back of P.C. Evans's thick bull neck,
tracing his eyes down the line of shaved hairs disappearing under the blue
collar of his uniform shirt.

Steve found himself frustrated by the fact he found him arousing despite
the way he'd been treated.  There was definitely something about the
machismo of a man in uniform that made his cock twitch.  The fact that he
was a complete bastard should have been off putting, but his brutal manner
made him interested.  He wondered if he was married or if he had a
girlfriend.  He found himself wondering what he would be like in the sack,
imaging his big frame naked, sweating, thrusting hard into some cunt, feral
and grunting until he slopped out the contents of his hairy balls.
P.C. Williams wasn't quite in the same league as his rough associate, but
even he wasn't bad.  Out of his uniform Steve would probably never have
looked twice at him.  Steve soon kicked himself mentally.  Thoughts of
naked coppers fucking were starting to get him hard, the tension and worry
of his situation somehow adding to his ability for arousal.  He reminded
himself it was the fact that he couldn't keep his cock under control that
had gotten him into this mess in the first place.  Steve soon found his
mood sinking again as he saw a small local sign for the police station as
they drove through the town centre, heading toward the miserable grey
concrete building that could only be the station.

The cops parked up in a marked bay, and Steve found himself being pulled
out of the back seat by P.C. Williams.  He was pushed toward the entrance
of the large, grim looking police station, and his initial resistance to
more manhandling led to constable Williams planting a firm kick up Steve's
arse with the toe of his shiny black boot.  P.C. Evans interrupted before
things escalated.  "Leave it out.  There's enough time for that when we've
got him banged up."  Steve hoped they were joking.  Given the way he'd been
treated so far he wasn't too confident.  He didn't relish the prospect of a
night being beaten up by a couple of uniformed sadists.

They led him, pushing and shoving all the way into the charge room.  Steve
found himself behind a queue of troublemakers, most of them attended by big
uniformed men, waiting for their turn at booking their charges in.  A
slightly overweight, bored thug of a custody sergeant was pushing his
pencil at his desk, reciting the usual questions, "Name" "Address"... in a
flat, tired monotone.  He was grey and balding but physically looked like
he'd come from the same mould as P.C. Evans, with hefty shoulders and big
thick arms.  He looked tired and utterly fucked off with the world, more
interesting in picking at a hole in the elbow of his blue police pullover
than the endless stream of criminals arriving in front of his desk.
P.C. Evans gave him a gruff "'Evening' Sergeant Edwards." before shoving
Steve down on a hard wooden bench, between a couple of scruffy young lads
with bleary eyes indicative of a serious drug problem.

"Wait there and keep fucking quiet." Evans grunted, before heading over to
join his ginger colleague, busily engaged in ribald conversation with a
group of four other coppers and a shy and incongruous looking WPC, all
waiting to get their prisoners booked in.

Steve had a look around the room while he twisted his hands in the cuffs to
improve his circulation.  The walls were painted in a disgusting shade of
institutional battleship grey.  He was sure he could make out bloodstains
here and there.  The walls were bare other than a large analogue clock and
various patronising "Say no to drugs" and "Don't Share Needles" information
posters.  The custody sergeant's desk and a row of wooden benches on the
tacky non-slip lino floor was all that was left in the room.  A thick
wooden door with a stainless steel kick plate lead in, and two lead out on
the other wall, presumably one into the police station and the other to the
cells.  Steve soon got bored looking at the stains on the floor.

Instead he could help noticing the pair of cunts who'd nicked him.
P.C. Williams had his back to him, and Steve was surprised to notice he'd a
decent arse.  He was narrow in the hips, but his bum was perfectly rounded,
a firm pair of peaches.  His uniform trousers were a little tight across
the seat, the dense material pulled taut by the weight of his equipment
belt, hugging the curves perfectly.  His massive companion had pulled off
his police issue pullover, and rolled up the sleeves of blue shirt.  Steve
noticed an enormous pair of forearms thickly covered with black hairs
extending over the backs off his big hands and scarred knuckles.  He
noticed him having a surreptitious scratch at his crotch again, the hefty
bulge of his genitals visibly shifting around in his groin as he rubbed at
himself.

Steve waited as the couple of young druggies had the removal of their
liberty formalised at the custody desk and were lead of to be interviewed
about whatever heinous deeds they'd done to lead them to this shit hole.
P.C. Evans stamped over to Steve, his large polished boots clumping on the
lino.  Steve stood up and was pushed over to the desk, by P.C. Evans, his
big hand gripping his elbow hard enough to bring out half a dozen bruises.

"Right then Evans, what's this one in for?" asked the Sergeant, licking the
end of his pencil, eyeing Steve with a pair of cold, attractive blue eyes

"Public Indecency," announced P.C. Evans, somewhat haughtily.  Steve could
never remember feeling more embarrassed in his life.  He could feel every
copper and criminal in the room looking at him.  The custody sergeant
didn't show the slightest flicker of emotion as he responded.

"What?  This true sonny?  What've you been up to?"  P.C. Evans interrupted,
gleefully answering the question for him.

"Fucking some other bloke he was.  Caught him in the act."

"What!" said Steve; unable to believe the way the policeman was lying in
front of him.  "It were nothing like that, this twat didn't see
anything..."  Steve didn't notice P.C. slipping the baton from its holster,
but he certainly felt it when he rapped it hard against Steve's shins.
Blinking away tears of pain and outrage, he kept on his feet.

"Shut the fuck up!" bellowed the custody sergeant, raising up from his seat
and barking over his desk at Steve, veins standing out in his neck with
anger.

"Speak when you're told.  Remember where you are and have some fucking
respect for the uniform!"

The custody sergeant sank back to his seat, still angrily fixing Steve with
his blue eyes.  He looked at P.C. Evans who still had his baton out for a
second swipe at his prisoner.

"Leave it Evans.  None of that in here.  The superintendent's prowling
about somewhere tonight."  The sergeant leaned back in his chair bottling
his temper up and looked Steve up and down.

"Well is this right?  You don't look the type to me.  I wouldn't have taken
a big lad like you for a poofter," he announced.  Steve glowered at him
sullenly.

"I'm not saying anything.  I want to talk to a lawyer before I'll say owt."
Steve was pleased with that bit of quick thinking.

"Bollocks!" responded the sergeant, bored out of his wits once more.  He'd
heard it all before and about a thousand times over at that.  He got back
to the routine.  "Name..."  "Address..."  Steve told him.  "Occupation..."

"Truck Driver."

"Really?  Articulated?" asked the Sergeant, with mock incredulity.  Steve
nodded as P.C. Williams called over from the corner where he'd been
watching and listening,

"That's where we caught him doing' it Sarge, in his vehicle.  The other one
got away but we reckoned it were someone he'd picked up from the road
works."

The sergeant grinned nastily.

"But truck driving's supposed to be a real man's job.  King of the Road and
all that, not Queen.  They must have a big pink one for you to drive."
Steve couldn't believe all of this Victorian attitude shite.  He bit his
lip, struggling to keep his temper and his mouth under control, reminding
himself they'd got a cat in hell's chance of pinning anything on him.

The sergeant continued filling out a form as P.C. Evans took the cuffs off
Steve.  He felt the thick hair on his sturdy arms brushing his hands. They
felt coarse and bristly, tickling his skin.  The backs of the policeman's
big hands pressed involuntarily against his arse as he unsnapped the cuffs
and returned them to the black leather pouch on his belt.  Steve rubbed his
wrists as the custody sergeant ordered him to empty out his pockets.  He
handed over his wallet and watch. They went through his wallet, counting
the change ands rifling through his credit cards.  When they pulled out a
couple of condoms, P.C. Evans and his ginger colleague exchanged knowing
looks, eyeballing Steve with mock disgust and giving the custody sergeant,
'we told you so' glances.  When done, they dropped his stuff into a large
brown envelope for personal effects, recording the contents on the label on
the front.  P.C. Evans produced the keys to the Scania from his pocket and
the tacho disk.  The sergeant dropped them into the envelope with the rest
of Steve's stuff.  Finally, they made him take his shoelaces out, and hand
his belt over, presumably to stop him from garrotting anyone or hanging
himself. The sergeant chucked the pen, chained to the top of the desk, at
Steve and turned the form around to face him so he could sign for his
belongings.  They let him keep his fags, but he was fucked as they'd taken
his lighter.  Sounding more bored than ever, the sergeant recited the
rights and privileges available to him while in custody from the back of a
laminated card.

"Right, P.C. Williams, get him searched," announced the sergeant, beckoning
the young ginger cop over.

"I'm not touching him, Sarge.  I might catch something."  Steve bit his lip
harder.  His temper was slowly growing stronger but he resolved to stay
still and not let them get to him.  Evans gave Williams a dirty warning
look, until he stomped over like a reluctant teenager.  He stood behind
Steve and he began to feel the copper running his hands lowly down the left
thigh of his Levi's and over his calves, running his fingers into the tops
of his boots.  He checked the other boot, and moved up from the ankle this
time.  Steve felt his hands carefully rubbing through his jeans, checking
for anything beneath, coming up over his thigh, and stopping just short
over his groin, pressing firmly into the cleft.  Steve almost wished he'd
go higher.  Normally he wouldn't have objected to a policeman feeling him
up.  His hands ran under his arms, exploring his pits before running over
his back, stroking and feeling under his collar.  Steve was surprised how
good that felt, his warm hands gently rubbing his neck.  He wrapped his
arms around his torso, so he could pat down over his chest and stomach.  It
almost felt as if he was being hugged and he could feel the young
policeman's groin pressing against his arse as he continued his search.  He
may have been reluctant, but the young cop was certainly thorough.  There
weren't many places on his body left that he hadn't touched.

"He's OK.  Nothing on him." announced P.C. Williams.  Evans and the custody
sergeant leered at him horribly.  The custody sergeant piped up relishing
the knowledge they all shared.  He hadn't finished searching his prisoner
properly.

"You haven't done yet.  You never know where these queers could have a
razor blade hidden."  With a scowl Williams finished his body search.
Steve felt his hand cup his buttocks, rubbing his firm behind.  With great
difficulty, Steve managed not to give any show of pleasure as the young
copper pushed his hand between his legs and felt around.  He could feel him
prodding around his balls, and gently squeeze his cock through the denim,
with an exaggerated expression of distaste for the benefit of P.C. Evans
and the sergeant.  He soon released his hold and stepped back hurriedly
while Steve struggled to stop himself from getting a hard on.

The sergeant chuckled at the young policeman's and Steve's discomfort
before trying to goad Steve.

"Bet you liked that didn't you son?  I know you're type.  Loved every
minute."  Steve's temper started to simmer again, mainly because they both
knew that it was true.  P.C. Williams was exaggeratedly wiping his hand
across his uniform trousers, pretending to gag.  Very mature, thought
Steve.  Steve decided he was as much a bastard as the rest of them, even if
he did have a decent arse on him.

"Well, we can't interview him yet, so we'll have to bang him up for now.
Any other charges besides indecency Evans?"  The custody sergeant waited
for a reply, his expression indicating he was expecting a specific answer.
P.C. Evans looked Steve over viciously before replying loudly.

"Yes, assaulting a police officer in the execution of his duty, namely
myself and P.C. Williams while he tried to resist a lawful arrest.  Oh, and
attempted criminal damage of a police vehicle.  He was trying to break the
windows on the way here."

"What!!!" Steve shouted, his self-control dissolving into rage at the crap
he was hearing

"What's this load of fucking bollocks?  I'm not having it!  This is a
fucking fit up you bunch of pig bastards, I never did anything!"  Steve
lost control, incensed by the bastard's pack of lies and balled his fist
and swung at P.C. Evans, fully intent on smashing the smug grin right off
his face.

Twenty minutes, later, Steve's eyes gradually came back into focus.  He
could feel lumps and bruises over ever inch of him.  He swallowed the bile
rising in his throat and grimaced painfully as he tried to move and
unleashed half a dozen new aches and pains.  Steve wasn't particularly
bright, but that had been downright stupid.  He'd let them goad him into
getting some real charges against him, in full of a room full of witnesses.
Before his fist even came near to connecting with P.C. Evans's jaw, the
other four coppers, including the custody sergeant came down on him like a
ton of bricks.  The group of Welsh policemen punched him to the floor
before hammering batons and boots into him as well.  P.C. Evans had finally
managed to push through the flailing fists, grab him by the ears and smack
the back of his head against the lino until he was too dizzy to fight.
Eventually they grabbed a limb apiece and carried Steve wriggling and
shouting to the cells, before unceremoniously flinging him onto the hard
wooden bunk, bolted to the wall at the head, and slamming the steel door
with a heavy clang.  Steve spat out a gob of blood, and prodded around with
his tongue to make sure all his teeth were still there.

All said and done he was pretty lucky not to have taken any serious damage,
and eased himself upright, leaning against the wall, rubbing at the fresh
bruises inflicted by fists and boots.  Things were definitely not good.  He
could virtually say goodbye to his job and if convicted of assaulting a
police officer he'd probably be banged up for a month or two in a cell like
the one he was in already.  That fuck in the cab was getting less worth it
by the minute.  The workman he'd screwed was probably at home soaking in a
hot bath by now.  He didn't know whether he wanted to scream or cry.
Instead, Steve had a good look round his new home for the evening.  He was
stuck in an eight foot by six room with dirty grey painted brickwork, a
concrete floor and a steel urinal in the corner.  The depressing dungeon
was illuminated by a feeble bare bulb and held a lingering odour of stale
piss and disinfectant.  The whole police station seemed to have fallen into
a discomforting, eerie silence.  Ten long minutes later the peace was
broken with a few shouts from down the corridor, and Steve listened as a
drunk Irishman was banged up in the cell opposite his own.  Above the
scratching of his name being chalked on the slate next to his cell door, he
could hear him singing in a loud pissed voice and soon wished he would shut
up.  Five minutes later he heard P.C. Williams shouting down into the
cellblock through his steel cell door.

"If you don't fucking shut it, we'll come down there and shut it for you!"
The Irishman started up again, only louder.  Steve soon heard the sound of
several pairs of boots on concrete, and the jangle of a large bunch of
keys.  He also heard P.C. Evans's voice and Sergeant Edwards' muffled
voices just outside the door.

"I'm telling you Evans, you're not doing that on my shift.  I've already
had one caution this year."

"Come on Sarge, we'll not take more than fifteen minutes.  Williams is
itching to burn off some steam.  We'll sort out this Irish git, then this
cunt in here."  Steve heard a light tap on the outside of his cell door.

"It's more than my job's worth Evans."

"Come on Sarge, the place is empty and his singing is really starting to
piss me off.  Any how, who's going to believe a drunk and poofter if they
make a complaint."

"Go on then.  But be fucking quick about it.  And don't get any blood on
the fittings."

Steve whinged quietly, and genuine fear took a hold of his guts.  He'd had
enough of being knocked about.  Being slowly beaten insensible by a couple
of vicious coppers was not his idea of a good time.  He heard the keys
clanking to the Irishman's cell and a lot of muffled voices.  Then came the
sounds of large fists against flesh and a lot of pained grunts.  After five
minutes, Steve heard the sound of the Irishman puking his guts out over the
floor.  At least he'd stopped singing. Steve heard plenty of snickering and
mirth from the two P.C.'s as the keys clanked in the lock of his cell door,
and the rusty hinges squeaked open.

They shouldered their way through the door together, nearly getting stuck
as Evans squeezed in his bulk.  They stood in front of him with sinister
grins, rubbing their sore knuckles sweaty and panting from their recent
exertions.  In the dim light from the bulb, Steve could see that they'd now
both stripped off their police pullovers, and were left in their uniform
trousers and shirts, with the black numbered epaulettes at the shoulders.
P.C. Evans had removed his tie and unfastened the top buttons of his shirt
to reveal an interesting patch of thick and curly black chest hair.  Steve
sat upright, panicking, hoping they'd get this over with quickly.  Steve
flinched, expected them to start when P.C. Evans pulled his long baton from
his belt and started to slap it menacingly against his open left palm.  He
grabbed the collar of Steve's sweater while P.C. Williams silently gloated
behind him.  Steve screwed up his eyes, expecting this was to hold him
steady while he smacked him in the face.  The punch didn't come.  Instead,
P.C. Evans softly patted his cheek with his enormous hand, and spoke to him
softly.

"Oh no, boyo, we wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours.  Might
put your boyfriend off."  Great.  That meant they were going to spend five
minutes kicking him in the bollocks where the marks wouldn't show.  They
must teach them that in training.  "Me and Williams thought up a better way
to deal with a you.  We'll soon have you sorted out."

"What the hell are you on about?" asked Steve, waiting for them to put the
cuffs back on and start hitting him.

"You've got a choice boyo.  One chance only.  You can face the magistrates
in the morning, and we'll make sure you get a stretch inside..."  Not good.
Curious, and with a glimmer of hope, Steve waited for the other option.

"...Or me and Williams sort you out our way right now.  Then we might drop
the charges for lack of evidence and your on your way."

So they were intent on duffing him up.  But if that was what it took to get
off the hook, he'd take it.  He didn't really have much choice.

"Come on, boyo, make your mind up.  Prison, ...or a bit of summary
justice."

"Looks like I've no choice.  Just get it over with if you're going to do
it," whinged Steve, watching constable Evans still whacking his palm with
the baton, wondering how much he would regret this later.  P.C. Evans
grinned evilly at his informal agreement.

"One rule.  You don't make a single sound OK?"  Steve nodded, and braced
himself.  He just wished they'd get it over with.

"Right then, lets get started." announced P.C. Evans with sinister relish.
He handed his baton to P.C. Williams and pushed Steve flat on his back,
lying across the bunk.  Next he grabbed the waist of Steve's jeans, yanked
hard popping his flies open with a single sharp tug.  Steve was confused
for a moment.  He'd been waiting for him to hit him.  Before he could
think, the policeman had yanked his Levis and his boxers down to his
ankles, letting his cock and balls bob out into view.  Surprised and
embarrassed Steve was about to shout out an indignant reply when P.C. Evans
grabbed him tightly by the throat with one large hand, pinning him to the
bench and stifling his potential objection.  The two policemen smirked as
they leaned in for a closer look

"Bloody hell! Look at the size of that.  Wasted on a poofter." Commented
P.C. Williams.  P.C. Evans scoffed loudly.

"That's nothing.  You'll see bigger than that before I'm through with this
cunt."  Steve wasn't too bright but he wasn't a complete moron and the
mental light bulb came on.  He realised they didn't want to duff him up in
return for releasing him without charge.  They wanted to fuck him.  They'd
figured if he'd fuck one bloke he'd probably enjoy fucking them too.  Steve
decided they were a bigger pair of bastards then he already thought mainly
because they were absolutely were right.  He'd have to admit he found
uniforms a turn on.  Stick a bloke you wouldn't notice in passing in a
uniform and he suddenly took on a new perspective.  The fact he thought
these two were complete bastards, to his confusion, only increased his
desire.  He wanted them to fuck him.  Hate and lust seemed different sides
of the same coin.

He felt P.C. Williams running Evans's baton up over the front of his
thighs, the plastic cold and smooth as it stroked up his hairy legs.  Steve
suppressed a grunt, determined not to give them the satisfaction of knowing
if he enjoyed it.  Soon the young P.C. ran the cold rod clumsily over his
cock, before pressing the shaft into his scrotum, parting his balls over
each side.  The constable rubbed the shaft teasingly against his bollocks,
his parted nuts sliding against the sides of the cold shaft, sending
tingles through Steve's groin, before wiping it over his cock again,
bringing a twitch of response from Steve.  The smooth cold baton felt great
against his hot dick.

"Fucking hell!" snorted P.C. Williams.  "You were right Evans, he's loving
it."  P.C. Evans grinned at Steve scratching the corner of his moustache
with his free hand.  Abruptly he released Steve's neck and rolled him over
onto his stomach while twisting him round width ways over the bunk.
Despite Steve's hefty muscular frame, the powerful copper managed it
easily.  P.C. Evans took up position at the other side of the wooden bunk,
in front of Steve, holding him steady with a pair of big hands on Steve's
shoulder blades.  Steve sensed Evans bending down to speak into his ear,
feeling warm wet breath against his cheek.

"Now just keep quiet and do whatever we fucking say, you dirty cunt!" he
hissed.  Steve realised that the constable had manoeuvred him into position
over the wooden bench, bending over with his arms hanging down one side
with his arse in the air and his pants around his ankles on the other.
Talk about feeling vulnerable.  Steve had a pretty good idea what was going
to come next and found himself breathing heavily with trepidation.  He
heard the big P.C. talking to his colleague.

"Go on Williams, do it.  Like we said." Ordered P.C. Evans, feverish with
anticipation.  Steve felt P.C. Williams slip the thick blunt end of Evans's
baton between the furry cheeks of his arse, the cold plastic parting his
buttocks and wedging into his crack, digging for his tradesman's entrance.
Steve felt the baton nudge into his arsehole, and once P.C. Williams
realised he was on target started to push.  Steve gritted his teeth
painfully as the pressure mounted, hoping the sweat in his crack would lube
the baton enough to enter.  Steve tried to relax his back end, but it
wasn't enough, the baton was too thick, blunt and dry, and only thumped
painfully against his unyielding behind.

Suddenly the hard rod of plastic was pulled out of his behind and the end
appeared in front of his face.  It looked shiny and threatening, the tip
slightly moistened and smelling very faintly of where it had just been.
P.C. Williams pushed the end towards Steve's mouth.

"Right you tight arsed bastard.  You'd better get sucking on this.  Wetter
the better.  You'll take it if we have to split you in half."

Steve opened up as the constable roughly shoved the baton into his mouth,
clacking into his teeth and nearly choking him.  The constable held it
still as Steve used his tongue to spread as much spit over the rod
stretching his mouth open.  The young P.C. soon grunted his satisfaction
and pulled the baton out, leaving Steve with an unpleasant plastic taste in
his mouth and an aching jaw.  The constable was soon behind him again as
P.C. Evans stood still, holding him down.  Steve felt the wet end of the
baton slip between his cheeks again and resume its assault on his arsehole.
The constable was going at it roughly, pushing hard, determined to get it
in.  Steve concentrated hard and pushed his sphincter out.  With the added
lubrication, it seemed to do the trick and he felt his anus slowly and
somewhat painfully begin to stretch over the crown of the baton.  The
constable kept up the pressure, grunting impatiently while Steve gritted
his teeth and growled with discomfort.  He grabbed the sides of the wooden
bunk, gripping tight as he tried to relax his backside.  The baton finally
pushed through his arsehole and slipped a few inches in, stretching him
wide around the thick shaft.  The back of Steve's thighs tensed up against
the searing pain, but before he could beg them to pull it out, the pain
quickly faded.  Steve had never felt anything so big in him before and
loved it, bringing a groan of humiliated pleasure from Steve.
P.C. Williams continued to push and he heard Evans snort with satisfaction
as he watched the baton sliding up his prisoner inch by inch.  He continued
holding Steve down flat, keeping him still with both hands as he wriggled
against the forced intrusion, twisting his backside to help the thick
stretching rod slide deep up into his guts.  Steve groaned louder as the
baton found it's way deeper and deeper into his rectum.

P.C. Evans was grinning from ear to ear with pleasure at their success,
enjoying the discomfort of his wriggling captive.

"That's it, Williams.  Keep going.  See how far you can get it up him."

With a bit more shoving and twisting, P.C. Williams succeeded in getting a
good twelve inches of the baton up Steve's arse.  Steve was gripping the
bunk so hard his knuckles were turning white.  He could feel the baton in
his guts and his arsehole nearly splitting.  P.C. Evans hadn't seen enough
yet though.  He barked over to his colleague.

"Now fuck him with it Williams, see if he can take it."

Luckily for Steve, the baton had become slippery with his juices and
slipped out easily.  Steve grunted with short-lived relief before
P.C. Williams pushed it back in.  The constable started to thrust with the
baton, sliding it in and out of Steve's arse.  Purely by luck he managed to
keep a constant pressure on his prostate.  Unable to help himself Steve
started to respond, his cock starting to lengthen and thicken beneath him,
pressing into the bench.

P.C. Evans was getting great satisfaction from watching Steve getting
fucked with his regulation police baton, watching the thick rod sliding
between Steve's buttocks.

"That's it Williams, keep going!" panted the constable, watching gleefully.
With Steve's head level with the burly policeman's groin, Steve soon
realised he wasn't the only one getting a certain type of enjoyment from
this.  The big policeman was visibly starting to get hard as well.  Steve
watched the hefty bulge at the front of his dark trousers shifting as his
prick stiffened beneath the material.  Slowly the bulge increased and his
crotch started to tent outwards toward his face.  The size of the lump made
Steve gulp, desperate to know how much meat the brute was carrying in his
pants.  From what he could see he'd probably measure up to the baton still
being repeatedly thrust into his firm arse.  The bulge continued to grow
until it must have been uncomfortable, the copper's big cock straining
against his uniform trousers, pushing threateningly outwards.  He fixed
P.C. Williams with a cold glare.

"That's enough Williams," he ordered abruptly.  After one final hard
thrust, Steve felt the baton being pulled out, leaving him to gasp with
relief.

"I reckon we ought to see what else he can take." announced P.C. Evans.  He
released his hold on Steve's shoulders and signalled his intentions by
dropping his hand to his crotch and rubbing his dick.  He rummaged at his
flies with his thick fingers and slowly pulled the zip down over his
enormous bulge.  Steve caught a musky whiff from the policeman's open fly
as his dick quickly pushed through the opening, still caught up behind his
underpants.  The outline of a large, bulbous cockhead appeared under his
grey briefs, a slight dark wet spot showing he was already starting to
leak.

"What the fuck are you doing Evans?" came P.C. Williams's hesitant reply.
Evans snorted with contempt, eyeballing his colleague coldly, as he dropped
his hand to his protruding cock and firmly tweaked the large tip through
his pants.

"What's up with you Williams?  Haven't got the bottle eh?"

"What if sarge finds out and objects."  He replied hesitantly.  Evans gave
him a dubious grin.

"He wont," he replied knowingly, unbuckling his equipment belt and slowly
unfastening the catch of his uniform trousers, letting them drop around his
knees.  He was left in his grey briefs from the waist down, the pouch at
the groin sticking out with the strength of his erection, the wet spot in
the middle growing larger with his seeping fluids.  He poked into the
waistband of his underpants and quickly pushed them down.  They rolled up
over his thick legs, but the constable left them tangled around his knees
while tucking up his blue uniform shirt around his belly.

Steve watched fascinated, enjoying the view.  The policeman's meaty thighs
were thickly matted with curly black hairs, thickening up the insides as
they rose to meet his crotch.  Steve got a strong smell of him, sweaty,
aroused, musky and faintly seminal as his released cock aimed at his face.
Steve had seen some big pricks, but the copper exposed in front of him was
colossal.  He even heard a stifled grunt of envy from P.C. Williams behind
him.  P.C. Evans crotch was curling with dense black pubes, from which
stood a very long and very thick ruler straight cock, with a few thick
veins down the shaft.  If not for the physical size of the rest of him, he
would have looked impossibly huge.  He was fully erect, rigid and angry
looking and as hard as steel.  His solid rod must have stood a proud ten
inches, sticking out from beneath his hairy belly, looking more like the
prop shaft of Steve's lorry than a dick.  The juicy pink cock head was
partially covered by a wrinkled grubby looking foreskin retracted enough to
show the moist slot at the tip.  A couple of enormous hairy bollocks swung
beneath, taut, sweaty and full of fresh police sperm.  He realised why
P.C. Evans had a habit of walking with a swagger when he'd a pair of nuts
like that swinging between his legs.  He had a pretty good idea where their
contents were destined, and he had to admit he was looking forward to the
experience.

Steve was unable to resist and reached up toward the policeman's impressive
fucking equipment, eager to grab his balls, only to have his hand firmly
slapped away.

"Fuck off," growled Evans, "Just open wide son."

The constable stood closer to Steve and lined his huge pole up with Steve's
willingly open mouth.  The policeman reached down and took hold of his
shaft, grunting with pleasure as he began to stroke himself, lovingly
rubbing his pride and joy in his hand.  He could barley close his fist
around himself, even with his own large mitts.  He started wanking, with
his cock inches from Steve, stroking up and down his full length and
slipping his thick foreskin back and forth over his cockhead.  The burly
copper soon excited himself enough to began oozing more precum, drop by
drop, until he was dribbling steadily, his cockhead glistening with the
clear sticky fluid as it pooled under his foreskin and smeared over the
tip.  He continued wanking, a little more briskly, ignoring Steve and
P.C. Williams, who were both watching with great interest and growing
arousal.  Evans continued wanking, grunting quietly to himself, getting
more aroused, until a single drop of semen appeared at the end of his dick.
He stopped, panting, waiting a moment until he was calm before wiping his
wet, dripping cock head over Steve's bottom lip, growling a little as the
sensitive skin grazed across Steve's stubble, before leaving him to enjoy
the taste of his salty fluids, and the warm inviting smell of his crotch.

"Right son, let's see if you can deal with this," he announced gruffly.
Steve opened wide as P.C. Evans thrust forward with his hips, pushing his
big smelly cock into his mouth.  He was very hard as Steve closed his lips
tight over the policeman's big juicy cockhead and sucked hard, rolling his
tongue over it, into the oozing piss hole and pushing under his foreskin,
licking out his juices.  Before Steve could get properly stuck in, Evans
was soon pushing in further, sliding more thick, tasty meat over his tongue
until Steve's mouth was full and his cockhead was pushing into his throat,
bringing a gag reflex from Steve.  P.C. Evans barked angrily at him,

"If I feel your fucking teeth again, I'll knock them out!"

He began to push himself in further.  Steve did his best to get his throat
muscles under control, still slurping as P.C. Evans's fat dirty cock
started to slide down Steve's gullet, feeling the rock hard flange of his
cock head slipping down.  Steve held his breath, feeling his throat fill,
watching his hairy black pubic forest approach and the musky smell getting
stronger.  He was soon buried nose deep, sniffing his crotch, with his
large damp balls pressing into his chin.  Evans glanced over at Williams to
make sure he was watching as he drew back and took a few shallow thrusts,
slapping his bollocks against Steve's face until he started to choke.  He
drew his cockhead back into to Steve's mouth, letting him cough a little,
before Steve resumed sucking greedily.  Steve needed to feel more of him,
and grabbed the back of stout hairy thighs as he slurped noisily.  The
copper didn't slap him down this time, so Steve slid his hands up his
strong legs and grabbed hold of his big meaty buttocks, enjoying the feel
of the muscular mounds, thickly covered in hair like the rest of him.  The
tips of Steve fingers curled into his damp furry crack as slipped his lips
up and down his long cock, bringing a few deep moans of pleasure from the
big copper.

P.C. Williams was still watching incredulously, shocked, with his eyes wide
open.

"Jesus Christ Evans!" he exclaimed.  "What the hell are you doing?  A baton
up his arse was one thing, but I don't fucking believe this!"  Evans let
Steve continue sucking him off as he sneered at his colleague.

"Don't act so fucking innocent Williams.  I can see you're hard from here.
So you might as well get your pants down and enjoy yourself."

"I Dunno about this Evans..." he continued.  Steve could here the lust
behind his hesitancy.

"Come on Williams.  He's a fucking good cocksucker.  You know you want it."

Evans groaned loudly to emphasis the point as Steve flickered his tongue on
the oozing cock still lodged in his mouth, bringing a few shudders and
dribble of semen from the constable.  P.C. Evans carefully pulled out of
Steve's mouth, stepping back with his enormous rock hard cock sticking out
in front of him; wet and glistening with spit and pre come.

"Here, your turn Williams.  I'll finish off round the other end of him."
Steve's ears pricked up at that.  He was going to get that long pig cock
right up his backside.  He couldn't wait to feel Evans ploughing into him,
his arse twitching in anticipation of another good fucking.  He was rock
hard himself; his cock stretched out under him, sticking to the bench,
letting him feel his own pre come pooling under his stomach.

P.C. Williams hesitated for a moment, but inevitably gave into lust and
dropped his trousers in front of Steve, glancing at the cell door to make
sure they were still undisturbed.  Steve saw that Evans was right.  The
young constable's' tartan boxers were tented out, and his face was red with
arousal.  He shucked his shorts down, a little self consciously, either at
having his full hard on display in front of other blokes, or because he
knew he didn't measure up to his enormous colleague.  Steve watched as near
seven-inch prick sprang up from beneath his uniform shirt, gently curved to
the left, stoutly raising from a patch a reddish ginger pubic hair.  A tidy
pair of balls swung low between his legs, and foreskin had retracted over
his pink helmet.  Steve didn't have long to admire the view before the
nervous young copper prodded the tip against Steve's lips and then stuck
his aching cock into his mouth.  Steve resumed sucking and licking,
enjoying the sweeter, younger taste of his meat.  He was very hard, and his
buckling knees showed he wouldn't last long.  Obviously less experienced
than his colleague, he was happy to let Steve do the work, pressing his
thighs to the edge of the bench, and letting Steve slip him in and out,
sucking eagerly on his fresh cock.  P.C. Williams's, nerves soon faded as
he enjoyed Steve's mouth, moaning contentedly as his climax approached.

Steve, with his mouth full and busy, heard P.C. Evans' heavy boots on the
concrete cell floor behind him.  Steve couldn't help himself from spreading
his legs and soon felt one of his deepest pleasures, a man's hairy thighs
in position between his own.  Evans didn't push straight into him.
Instead, he spat into his palm and wiped the lubricant over his bulging
dirty prick.  Using his hand, he wiped the head of his sticky wet cock up
and down the crack of his arse, rubbing his large, hard tool between
buttocks, until he felt him prodding the tip against his entrance.  A pair
of big rough hands grabbed the sides of his arse at the hips, lifting his
rear a little higher and keeping him still until the policeman's glistening
smelly spike was lined up with his hole.  Grunting loudly, P.C. Evans
quickly forced himself deep into Steve's hairy arse with a single powerful
thrust, sliding his full nine inches up him.  His long, thick pole and
brutal entry nearly split Steve's ring.  He grunted with the incredible
stabbing, stretching pain, stifled by the juicy prick in his mouth as he
felt P.C. Evan's mighty shaft fill him.  The baton had opened him up a
little, but it still hurt like hell, his anus stretched tight around the
policeman's engorged shaft.  The cop was in so deep Steve felt like his
guts had been rearranged. Steve thought he could feel the veins on his
shaft throbbing inside him as he held himself deep inside for a moment,
with his hips and thighs pressed firmly against Steve's cheeks.  He didn't
rest long before he pulled back and began to thrust hard, gripping Steve's
hips to hold his behind steady.  The initial pain of his rough penetration
soon faded to a dull enjoyable ache as he started to get fucked, relishing
the sensations of the policeman's big cock in his arse.  He was soon
puffing and grunting, thrusting contentedly, slipping the full length of
his prick into Steve captive arse with each rapid push.  He pulled back
each time until only his cock head was inside him, stretching his anus,
before sliding in again up to the balls.  Steve's arse was sore within a
couple of minutes of his rough fucking, his fat hairy bollocks bouncing
against him with every thrust.

Steve couldn't let out a single satisfied moan as Evans continue to bugger
him enthusiastically, his mouth still working hard on P.C. Williams's dick.
Steve reached up to his balls and didn't encounter any complaint as he
rolled his tight young nuts in his hand.  Steve's tongue licked his
foreskin and swirled around his dickhead, bringing a gasp of satisfaction
from the young constable, his cock growing harder still.  His initial
reluctance to fuck another bloke had evaporated and with Steve's
attentions, he was red faced and panting like a puppy.  Steve moved his
finger back from his balls, running between his legs until he slipped
between his firm cheeks and touched his arsehole.  Steve didn't try to push
in, but gently rubbed his hole, as he kept sucking his cock.  The young
P.C. evidently found it arousing as Steve noticed his balls tightening
further and his thighs tensing up, as his climax got very near.  Excited by
both Steve's warm sliding mouth and the sight of his burly colleague
humping away at the other end; he started to come.  Steve tasted a trickle
of semen before Williams's cock twitched energetically.  P.C. Williams
groaned noisily, ramming himself deep into Steve's mouth as he finally
ejaculated, grunting hoarsely, buckling at the knees as his balls emptied,
filling Steve's mouth with semen, spurting against the back of his throat
in hot sticky ropes.  He kept on spurting, semen flooding over Steve's
tongue, until his spurts stopped, leave Steve to suck out the last few
drops, while swallowing the rest of his mess.  Williams pulled his cock
from Steve's mouth, leaving him to P.C. Evans' brutal plunging assault on
his backside.

Evans wasn't far off blowing his load up Steve's arse.  He was still
pushing through Steve's hole and grunting, ramming his thick nine inches of
police cock in up to the hilt.  Steve groaned loudly.  His ring was
stinging like hell, but the sensation of Evans's cock filling him and
squeezing his prostate kept him wanting more.  Williams hastily pulled up
his underpants and trousers, checking on the cell window.

"Come on, Evans.  Hurry up will you, before the sergeant catches us."

"Fuck off!" Evans growled, unwilling to be disturbed while he was having a
fuck.  Williams couldn't do much but wait by the door watching P.C. Evans's
big hairy arse bobbing between Steve's legs as he finished buggering him.
Grunting louder, as his arousal peaked, he began to sweat steadily,
dampening his armpits and back of his blue uniform shirt.  He held tightly
onto Steve's hips as his thrusts became more urgent and he fucked more
roughly, leaving Steve twitching uncomfortably and gritting his teeth as
his porky cock rammed into him faster and harder.  Evans was puffing away
like a bull in heat, moaning noisily as Steve's tight gripping arsehole
brought his climax on.  The strapping constable shifted into top gear,
slipping in up to the hilt, ramming in hard with his hips slapping into
Steve's buttocks.  He was thrusting hard enough to slam Steve against the
bunk with each deep poke, keeping Steve stretched open, sore and
uncomfortable.  Soon enough, Evans began to tense up, every muscle in his
thickset frame straining as he finally came.  Plunging in as deep as he
could, he released a low animal bellow and ejaculated deep into Steve's
guts, thick slimy ropes of his semen spurting up Steve's arse.  Still
thrusting, he kept on squirting out copious amount of his muck, his hefty
bollocks dumping their entire sticky load into Steve's rectum.  Steve felt
him ejaculating inside him, his cock hot and throbbing, semen filling his
passage.

"Oh, fuck!" moaned P.C. Evans, coming to a stop, panting and sweating
profusely, sucking in air to get his breath back, resting his full weight
against Steve, with his subsiding cock still in him.  Steve felt him pull
his fat dick out of his spunk filled hole, squelching slightly in the quiet
cell.

Williams was convinced they were about to get caught and was stamping
around impatiently, waiting for P.C. Evans to get himself sorted.  He dug a
filthy hanky out of his shirt pocket and carefully wiped his cock clean,
pulling back his foreskin to wipe his underneath.  Eventually he tucked his
big spent cock and bollocks back into his underpants, pulled up his
trousers, and was busy tucking his damp uniform shirt back in, wiping sweat
from his brow.  Steve rolled over on the bunk, exhausted, his cock still
hard.  Evans noticed and grinned at Williams.

"Told you he'd love it."

"Yeah, but hurry up.  I'll see you in the canteen for a cuppa."  Williams
unlocked the cell door and trudged off, undoubtedly to dig himself out of
the psychological dilemma of being a straight copper who'd enjoyed being
sucked off by a bloke.  Evans was unrepentantly shameless, still eyeing
Steve lustfully as he sat up and reached for his jeans.  He was as aroused
as he'd been for hours, hard and aching for release, but didn't expect
Evans was likely to oblige him with his own arse.  Strict top only, Steve
figured.

"What you think you're doing son?" asked Evans, gruffly, scratching his
crotch again. "We haven't done with you yet.  You keep your pants around
your ankles lad."

Evans poked his shaved head out into the corridor, calling out quietly.

"All yours Sarge!" called Evans, in a muted voice.

Sergeant Edwards soon ambled into the cell, squeezing his big physique
through the door, rubbing his thinning scalp with his cold blue eyes fixing
on Steve, especially, his erect cock.  Nearing the end of his shift, he was
looking rather scruffy for policeman.  He'd taken off his holed pullover
and tie, left in a creased uniform shirt with sleeves untidily rolled up
past his meaty forearms.  He turned to P.C. Evans.

"When you said you were going to fuck over the lorry driver Evans, I
thought you meant with your fists."

"I might yet," grunted Evans, smiling evilly at Steve, as he wiped his arse
juices from his recovered baton using the lumpy pillow on the bunk.  He
slipped it back into its holster at his waist, still scratching between his
legs.  P.C. Evans privately decided he'd have to go and so the force doctor
about getting something for the probable itchy case of crabs he'd picked up
from the last prisoner he'd fucked.

Sergeant Edward leered at Steve unpleasantly.

"My men been looking after you properly then?" Steve couldn't think of any
appropriate response.  The sergeant turned to Evans.

"Did you fuck him then?"  Evans cupped his ample crotch in his hand.

"Yeah.  Loved every minute he did, the dirty twat.  Even gave Williams a
gobbling."  The sergeant chuckled.

"Where's Williams?  Gone to wash his cock or something?"

"Probably sarge.  You can't be too careful with this sort."  Steve ignored
them.  It was obvious he was going to end up getting fucked again.  He was
still rock hard and throbbing, desperate for some reciprocation, but
reckoned he was better keeping quiet.  Just let them do what they wanted so
he could get out of trouble.

"Right then son, lets be having you," announced the sergeant, rolling his
sleeves up a little further.  "Get the cuffs on him constable.  Just in
case he turns nasty."

Before Steve had a chance to do anything, P.C. Evans had hauled him to his
feet, and stood behind him, firmly cuffing his wrists behind his back.
Steve felt rather vulnerable as the sergeant approached, wondering whether
he was going to end up getting another kicking after all.  Instead the
sergeant grasped his cock firmly, before giving the shaft a brisk rub.
Steve moaned with the feel of his rough hand against his smooth, throbbing
shaft, grunting as the sergeant continued to wank him, slowly but with a
tight grip.  He continued, eyeballing him, watching his reaction to what he
was doing with his hand, speeding up a little and grinning at the deeper
grunts it forced out of Steve.  Surprisingly, he felt P.C. Evans squeezing
his buttocks from behind, stroking his cheeks before his fingers started
slipping into his crack, exploring his warm crevice.  The sergeant used his
other hand to pull Steve's foreskin out, digging his fingernails into the
soft flesh.  Steve found the sharp pain strangely pleasurable as he winced,
straining against the cuffs holding his wrist firm behind him while Evans
continue playing with his arse, tweaking at the hairs in his crack, still
damp and matted with the copper's semen.  Sergeant Edwards stretched his
foreskin out a little further before pushing it back tight down his shaft,
leering at his exposed pink cock head.  He teased the tip slowly, playing
Steve's oozing precum over his fingers, before reaching between his legs to
grasp his bollocks.  A couple of hard squeezes had Steve's knees buckling;
spreading his arse cheeks a little.  Evans used the opportunity to slip his
finger into his crack, pushing up until he could tease his slackened
arsehole, before prodding in and out slowly.  The sergeant started wanking
him again; slapping his hand up and down Steve's shaft as Evans fingered
his arse.  The combination had Steve moaning loudly, his climax building up
quickly in his balls.  Steve got a look at the sergeant's groin as he
continued tugging him, and saw the lump he expected, the copper's dick
growing rapidly in his pants.  Just as his rubbing hand brought Steve
almost to his peak, the sergeant stopped and Evans pulled his finger out,
bringing a snarl of frustration from Steve, his cock hard, hungry,
dripping, and twitching with the need for more.

"Get him on his knees, constable," demanded the sergeant.  P.C. Evans
complied, and pushed Steve down onto the cold concrete floor of the cell.
Steve found himself kneeling in front of the sergeant with his face near
level with his bulging, tented crotch.  Steve expected this to be the start
of more cock sucking, but the sergeant had other plans for him.  "See these
boots son?" he asked, moving the Doc Marten on his right foot.  Steve
nodded.  "Lick them," ordered sergeant Edwards.

"Get 'em so fucking clean and shiny that I can see my face in them."  Steve
looked at his boots, big black size tens, showing proudly at the bottom of
his uniform trousers.  They looked well used, with plenty of creases in the
leather behind the toecaps and around the heels, with some of the stitching
fraying slightly.  The laces were short and slightly tatty at the ends.
Despite that they were very well maintained, looking as if they had been
polished every night.  Apart from a scuffed toecap, the leather looked
immaculate.  Steve bent forward to commence his task.  He doubled over,
until he could feel his aching dick poking into his stomach and his nose
hit the left boot.  The smell of the leather combined with layer after
layer of Kiwi polish was strange but pleasant.  Steve stuck out his tongue
and started to explore, licking and tasting the firm, smooth leather boot,
licking the shiny surface then probing a little lower with the end of his
tongue, tracing the seam of the stitching.

"Do the other one now," panted the sergeant, his groin tented out further
beneath his beer belly.  Steve started licking the toecap of the right
boot, lapping at the leather, trying to use his tongue and spit to make
them wet and shiny.  He wished he could rub his cock against them, and come
over them.  Licking his spunk or someone else's off the sergeant's shiny
boots wouldn't have been a task he'd have refused.  He was still licking
when the sergeant pulled his boot out from under his face.

"That's enough.  There's nothing you queers wont do is there?" commented
the sergeant.  "Get up," he ordered, leaving Steve to struggle back onto
his feet.  Not an easy task with your hands cuffed behind your back and
your pants around your ankles.

The sergeant slowly unzipped his flies and pushed Steve around to face the
wall.  He felt P.C. Evans's big hand push the back of his head forward
leaving him to slam face first into the brickwork.  The sergeant stepped up
behind him, and he felt his hands stroking his buttocks, his breathing deep
and heavy, warm, wet breath raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Watch the door Evans," the sergeant muttered, yanking at his the catch of
his trousers.  The weight of his belt, laden with his baton and cuffs
pulled his trousers straight down around his ankles.  He pushed Steve flat
against the cell wall, pressed up against the unpleasantly cold, damp
plaster, pulling his Y-fronts down with his other hand, releasing his long
meaty cock.  Steve felt his knees push his legs apart, parting his
buttocks.  The sergeant gripped his shoulders tight and he felt his beer
belly press up against him, pushing his cuffed wrists into the small of
back.  Steve felt the head of his dick rubbing over his buttocks, as the
sergeant squatted down a little between his spread legs, slipping his prick
into his crack.  The thick cock parting his buttocks immediately began
pushing into his sore arsehole.  Luckily, his backside was still slick
enough with P.C. Evans's muck for the sergeant enter him easily, stretching
open his anus, forcing through his tight sphincter and pushing up deep into
his rectum.  He obviously wasn't fussy about sliding in on another man's
spunk.  Steve could feel he wasn't as big as Evans, but his prick still
felt very long, hard and thick.  The sergeant started thrusting, raising
Steve up onto his tiptoes as he barged into him, snarling like an Alsatian.

"Bit slack back here aren't you boyo?" he commented, slipping his
substantial length in and out of Steve's behind.  "Feels like Evans has
given you a right good fucking, eh?" mumbled the sergeant, poking deeply up
him.  His thrusts kept pushing Steve firmly into the wall, forcing his cock
to rub against the brickwork, his length flat along the moist plaster.  The
powerful thrusting into his arse and the movement his cock on the wall was
bringing Steve back toward his desperately needed climax.

"That's it sarge, give him one!" advised Evans, still scratching his groin
as he watched them.

The snarling copper continued buggering him with the same aggression, using
his tight hole mercilessly to bring himself off.  The sergeant shifted his
position, standing a little straighter, leaning heavily against Steve's
back as his plunging dick impaled him repeatedly.  The angle sent his
cockhead digging into Steve's prostate, poking it through the walls of
rectum as his brutal shafting speeded up.  Steve was soon whimpering with
pleasure, squashed into the wall with the sergeant's fingers digging into
his shoulders.  His hard thrusting pushed his beer belly against him, and
he could feel his coarse pubic hairs tickle his arse as he rammed himself
up him, digging in deeper with each prod.  Steve's cock continued rubbing
against the wall with the sergeant's thrusting, getting him more and more
aroused.  As the sergeant continued sliding in and out, the movement
finally brought him off, and unable to control himself, the tingling in his
dick spread through his groin.  His balls shrunk up tight and with a gasp
Steve came, his cock spurting out several thick wads of semen, oozing
between the wall and his flat stomach.  His spasms tightened his arse
around the sergeant's thick plunging shaft, bringing several loud grunts of
pleasure from the policeman, as he felt Steve's spasms.  It was enough to
finish him off, and with a few more hard thrusts, he came with a deep,
dirty moan, gritting his teeth as his bollocks emptied into Steve's
backside.  The sergeant let out a stifled, "Hurgggh!" as Steve felt his
cock bucking and spurting inside him, gobs of fresh wet spunk filling his
hole.  The sergeant stabbed a few final brutal thrusts into his buttocks,
before abruptly pulling out.

Steve's arse had never felt so sore.  The sergeant hadn't exactly fucked
him gently, and his backside felt like a slack windsock.  He could feel the
sergeant's muck up him, warm, wet and slimy, mixed in with the copious
deposit Evans had left.  Steve slid down the wall onto his knees, smearing
his spunk on the wall down the front of his sweater, as the sergeant took
his weigh off him, releasing his grip on his shoulders.  Steve panted with
exhaustion, feeling tired, used, humiliated and satisfied.  He felt some of
the policemen's spunk oozing out of his arse and dribbling down the insides
of his thighs.  The sergeant ignored him, pulling up his Y-fronts and
trousers, buckling his belt up under his beer belly.  The sergeant spat a
big wet gob of spit onto the floor as Steve twisted around, sitting himself
down on the cold floor, grateful for the cold against his backside,
relieving his seared hole.

"That'll learn you, boyo," concluded the sergeant, zipping his flies up, as
Evans gloated over him.  The sergeant turned to P.C. Evans.

"Get him tidied up then get him out of here.  And don't say a fucking word
to anyone about this."  The sergeant unlocked the cell door and left to go
back to his desk.  P.C. Evans pulled Steve back to his feet.  Steve was too
knackered to object to his manhandling him, but was relieved to find Evans
turn him round and release the handcuffs.  Steve rubbed his wrists and
pulled his trousers up over his sore behind, with Evans making sure he got
another look at his cock before it disappeared back into Steve's pants.

"You're a dirty little fucker aren't you?  Loved every minute eh?"

Steve blushed, suddenly embarrassed, desperate to get out of the place.

"You lot going to let me go now?" was all he managed to stammer.  Evans
ignored him and positioned his thickset bulk in front of the small
stainless steel urinal with his back to Steve.  Steve looked at his broad
shoulders and the dark streak of sweat down his uniform shirt.  He heard
his flies opening, shortly followed by a jet of piss, sluicing out of his
thick tube, clattering noisily into the metal urinal.

"Suppose I'll have to." He muttered as he continued pissing.  Steve noticed
his aim was all over, half of his piss going over the floor.  He soon shook
and zipped up before turning round.  Steve felt slightly cheated that he'd
just had his fat cock out and he'd missed a glimpse.

P.C. Evans sneered at Steve unpleasantly and pushed him out of the cell
door, Steve inwardly screaming with relief.  He reckoned it was just into
the early hours of the morning, which gave him time enough to get back to
his truck, make the drop at 6:00 am with no one any the wiser.  Evans led
Steve back toward the charge room, listening to the groans from the cell of
the Irishman they'd beaten up.  Evans pushed Steve through the door into
the room.  It was empty apart from sergeant Edwards, reclining behind his
desk and catching up with his paperwork.  He didn't look Steve in the face
as he simply passed him the brown envelope returning his belongings and
explained in a dull monotone that he was being released on account of a
lack of evidence.  No charges would be proceeded with.

"Behave yourself son.  Don't get yourself in trouble again," added the
sergeant as P.C. Evans directed him toward the door.  Steve wasn't quite
sure whether that was likely to encourage or dissuade him.  He walked off
in the direction indicated remembering what the sergeant's cock had felt
like up his arse.

It was dark and cold outside the police station, and Steve felt himself
shivering.  He was also walking in a slightly funny way, wide between the
legs, to relieve his aching arsehole.  Evans noticed and suddenly slipped
his hand against Steve backside, giving his buttocks a squeeze.

"Certainly taught you a lesson you wont forget," he commented, smirking to
himself.  Steve was pissed off with his gloating and was looking forward to
a brief kip back in his lorry.  He suddenly realised his truck was parked a
long way from the station, and he wasn't even sure in which direction.

"How the hell am I supposed to get back to my truck?" Steve asked.

"I couldn't fucking care less," snorted P.C. Evans.  "Just piss off, and
thank fuck you didn't get prosecuted, you dirty twat."

"Come off it, you owe me a lift back at least."  Evans fixed him with a
venomous look and Steve wondered if he was going to hit him, before a touch
of guilt prodded his brain.

"My shift finishes in five minutes, so I suppose its overtime money for me
to drive you back.  I'll do it this once, but you'd better remember the
police force isn't a fucking taxi service."

Steve followed the copper, watching his sour expression as he pointed him
toward his patrol car.  Steve settled himself into the front seat next to
him, leaving his envelope on the back seat and they drove off, with the
constable making some dull excuse over his radio as to where he was going.
He drove them through the quiet town centre, eerie and deserted in the
small hours of the morning.  He engaged Steve in a bit of small talk,
moaning about his policeman's lot and the drugs and drunks he had to
contend with in the city centre.  He even had a go at P.C. Williams, as he
wasn't around to listen, whining that he was typical of the standard of
recruit they were getting these days.  'Too fucking soft to get the boot
in' was P.C. Evans none to flattering comment of his young colleague.
Steve was privately chuckling to himself.  P.C. Evans was definitely a
complete bastard.  He was muttering away acting like the dutiful policeman
next to a bloke he'd just fucked on duty.  Steve could still feel his muck
up his arse.

Evansy eventually shut up moaning and drove in silence, sour about letting
himself give in to Steve's request for a lift.  Apart from the odd crackle
from his radio and a few grunts, Steve had nothing to listen to and
contended himself with wriggling in the seat, trying to find a comfortable
position for his sore backside.  He was knackered and looking forward to
getting back to the familiar confines of his truck for whatever rest he
could get before morning.  A day's driving sitting on his ravaged behind
was going to be an interesting experience. After another five minutes, the
patrol car's headlights illuminated a sea of orange traffic cones, and
Steve realised they must be back at the road works.  He was relived to see
the massive outline of his Scania ahead of him.  It didn't look as if
anyone had been mucking about with his truck during his brief
incarceration, but he decided he'd have a walk around and make sure no one
had been trying to siphon his diesel tanks.

Evans pulled up abruptly in front of the cab and tugged the handbrake on.

"There you go," he grumbled, leaning back in his seat and releasing his
seat belt.  Steve reached for the door release, eager to be on his way.

"Where you going so soon?" asked Evans, switching off his police radio and
spreading his thick legs.

"For some kip in my truck," responded Steve, exasperated.  Evans reached up
to switch on the map reading light before he lowered his right hand between
his legs and started rubbing himself.

"You owe me for the fucking lift," he replied, still slowly rubbing his
crotch, giving Steve a dirty look.  Steve couldn't believe this.  He was
tired out and fucked near senseless.  He didn't think his arse could take
him again without some serious damage getting done.  The thought of his
hefty piece ragging his hole a second time nearly brought tears to his
eyes.

"Come on mate, just let me go.  You've had your turn."

"Please yourself.  I can still nick you, you know.  Or maybe 'phone up your
employer, let a few details slip."  Steve gritted his teeth.  The bastard
truly had him by the balls.  Evans knew it, and grinned from ear to ear.
Steve watched him unzip his flies.

"One last suck son.  Then you're on your way.  I know you want to.  Bet you
can't wait to get your mouth on my dick again."

Steve stewed angrily because he knew he was right yet again.  He was stuck
in a car with a large horny policeman with a big cock.  Of course he wanted
to get a last look at it.  At least he didn't want to stick it up his arse
again.  Evans correctly summarised from Steve silence that he was up for it
and finished tugging down his fly with a slow rasp.  He slipped his hand
into the opening, cupping and rubbing his balls through his flies.  He soon
undid his belt and lifted his arse off the seat, wriggling and grunting, as
he tugged his trousers and underpants down together, leaving them half way
down his flies.  Evans reached for the catch to slide the seat as far back
as he could and spread his legs, gesturing to Steve that it was time for
him to get started.  As Steve leaned over, he tugged up his blue police
pullover to give him better access.

The copper was still soft, his cock lying over his hefty bollocks like a
thick, meaty snake.  Steve touched his thigh, stroking up and down the
hairy tree trunk.  Evans's grunts told him he enjoyed that.  Steve began to
explore the insides of his thighs, running his nails through the thicker
hair rising up toward his crotch.  Steve leaned in a little closer, looking
at the impressive weaponry still lying inert between his legs.  As he got a
closer still, he got a good smell of him, still warm, musky and sweaty, but
sharpened with a faint touch of piss and semen.  The fresh stains on the
front of his underpants supported Steve's opinion.  Steve continued rubbing
the insides of his thighs, rising up a little higher each time.  It wasn't
until his fingers began to brush against the thick hair coating his
bollocks that he began to respond, his scrotum shrinking and tightening and
the first twitches moving his cock.  He was still impressive when soft,
long and fat, near six inches long.  A couple of black pubic hairs had got
caught up under his foreskin, and poked out of the puckered end, closed
tightly over his cock head.  Steve reached between his legs and slipped his
hand under his balls before starting to grip him, rolling his sticky damp
scrotum in his palm, feeling his balls floating in their sacks.  With his
other hand he pulled out the pubes stuck under his foreskin, and closed his
hand around his thick heavy shaft, peeling the damp underside off his
balls.  He heard P.C. Evans give a loud satisfied groan as he squeezed, and
felt him began to stiffen quickly.  He used his nails to scratch his
bollocks as his cock grew, feeling it thicken in his fist, and its length
extending out of his hand.  Steve gently began to rub his tacky feeling
shaft, watching as he became fully erect, his length extended up past his
belly.  'Bloody Hell' thought Steve as he grew to his full nine inches.  He
had to admit that the copper had one hell of dick on him.

Steve peeled back his foreskin, releasing a fresh musky odour and wiped off
a few stray drops of piss.  He gently teased the surface of his shaft with
his fingers, waiting until the veins began to bulge and his cockhead was
hard and shiny before he got his face into his crotch to suck him.  Steve
sniffed deeply as his nose got near, soaking up his powerful odour,
unwashed and horny, noticing a feint smell of his arse left on his cock.
Steve ignored it and started to lick him, lapping over his bollocks as he
continued to rub his thighs, and pushing his tongue into the fleshy sacks
to chase around his nuts.  Evans began to grunt and wriggle with pleasure
the moment Steve's tongue brushed over his cock head.  Steve licked up and
down his shaft, using nothing but his lips and tongue against him.  Steve
noticed a new smell and dampness against his cheek as his cock head wiped
against it as he licked down to the thick base of his spike.  Steve though
for a moment he might have come already, but as he licked his way back up
for a look, he noticed he was spilling a few drops of pre ejaculate.  He'd
never known a bloke leak as much as this big lug before.  Steve stopped
licking to squeeze the head of his penis, gently to open his piss hole and
watched as the clear fluid started to ooze.  Steve released him for a
moment, hearing him grunt deeply and watched as his cock began to dribble,
sticky droplets spilling off his cock head, seeping under his foreskin and
dripping down his fat shaft.  Steve, aroused by the sight, got straight
back onto his cock, licking up the liquid, wetting his length with the
policeman's pre come and his own spit.  Steve opened wide and got his mouth
over his glans, sucking deeply, feeling the big policeman twitching and
shuffling in his seat with enjoyment.  Steve loved the taste of his cock,
slightly salty but with a sweet residue of sperm underneath.  Steve kept
his mouth wide open and started down his shaft, taking as much of his
length into his mouth as he could manage.  Leaning over from the passenger
seat meant Steve wasn't in position to get him down his throat, for which
he was grateful.  Instead he got stuck into sucking him off the usual, way,
sealing his lips tight and bobbing up and down his shaft, taking him in
until his glans hit the back of his mouth, feeling his right ear rubbing up
and down his pullover clad belly.

Evans was grunting like a pig as usual, gently thrusting upward with his
hips.  Steve was surprised to feel his hands start caressing the back of
his head, gently stroking his short hair.  He guided Steve to a slightly
slower pace, raising him up and down over his shaft.  Steve was determined
to get him off quickly, and started flickering his tongue over his dick,
teasing and probing, keeping his lips tight.  After a minute, Steve sensed
headlights, and Evans, somewhat startled pushed him down, his cock stuck
deep in his mouth filling him so completely he could barely breath through
his nose.

"Keep still!" he moaned hoarsely, waiting until the vehicle had passed.  He
held Steve's head still a moment longer until he was sue they hadn't been
noticed.

"Get sucking!" he grunted, releasing his head when they were in the clear.
Steve got stuck back in, sliding up and down his spike, the policeman
wriggling more, sweating, and his grunts getting deeper.  He began pushing
Steve's head down hard onto his cock, beckoning him to increase his pace.
Steve could feel he hadn't long to go as he belly rubbed against the side
of his head with his quickening pace.  Sucking hard, Steve heard the
moaning and grunting that told him he was nearly there.  He was still
rubbing his balls, and moved his hand back to his thighs in time to feel
them tensing up.

"Oh, fuck, yes! That's it! Harder!" moaned Evans, his prick twitching
energetically and a few shudders beginning to shake his stout physique.

"Oh fucking hell! Arghhhh!" he cried as he came.  Steve felt spasms shaking
his legs and groin before a fountain of sperm suddenly erupted in his
mouth.  He'd had a good break since his last fuck and his volume was back
up.  Thick, sticky globs of semen spurted up into Steve's mouth, spraying
the back of his throat and running over his tongue.  Evans held Steve's
head firmly in place over his cock, pushed deep into his mouth, as he
pumped his muck into his face.  Steve swallowed for all he was worth,
feeling the policeman's slimy mess slipping down his mouth, enjoying the
fresh smell of thick milky spunk.  A few globs escaped, spilling down his
shaft and dripping over his bollocks or sticking in his dense black pubes.

When he was satisfied he'd finished, Evans leaned back panting, letting
Steve's head up.  Steve deliberately let his cock out of his mouth with a
last long noisy slurp.  Steve wiped the back of his mouth with his sleeve
as Evans hurriedly pulled up his trousers.

"Right, were even know," said Steve, slightly out of breath, trying to
swallow away the aftertaste of the coppers cock and sperm.  "I'm off."

Before Evans could get a word in edgewise, Steve reached for the door and
climbed out of P.C. Evans' patrol car, slamming it shut and hurrying off to
his truck.  He then realised he'd left all his stuff, including the keys in
the brown envelope on the back seat.  Steve groaned inwardly as Evans
stepped out of the patrol car, still fastening his trousers.

"Forgotten something have we?" he asked smugly.  He waited until he'd
finished buckling up before he reached into the back seat and pulled the
envelope with one hand, dangling the keys in the other.  He made Steve wait
a few moments before he finally threw them to him.

"Now you can piss off.  Don't let me catch you again."  The big policeman
jumped back into his patrol car and drove off, grinning like a Cheshire
cat.  Steve was left to get back to his truck, shaking his head with
disbelief.  He'd come across some real characters before, but P.C. Evans
was something else entirely.  Before long, Steve had checked his truck
over, relieved to find nothing amiss and had virtually crawled into his
cab, sighing with relief at being back in his usual, cosy, familiar cab.
He was aching outside with the knocking about he'd had and inside for
obvious reasons.  Tired, dirty and feeling good, he sat down in the drivers
seat to empty out his envelope and return his belongings to his pockets.
He noticed the dashboard was still splattered with the now dry remains of
the workman's sperm.  Fuck it, Steve thought, he'd clear up in the morning.
Things were quite ironic he thought.  A few hours earlier he'd been feeling
sorry for himself because of his non-existent sex life.  A few hours later
and he been fucked out of his brains by four different blokes.  He wasn't
feeling sorry for himself any more.  Well maybe just a little: his arse was
pretty sore after all.  As Steve pulled out the rest of stuff he frowned.
There was still something left in the bottom of the envelope.  He pulled it
out to find a small sheet of notepaper he didn't recognise.  He turned it
over.  Written in black ink was simply "Evansy" and what looked like a
mobile phone number.  Steve laughed out loud.  He pulled out the fag packet
with the workman's number on it that he'd left on top of the dash.  His sex
life was definitely looking up, especially if he ever passed this way
again.  Could be quite interesting to get the three of them together.
Steve climbed it is bunk and curled up, at very long last, for some rest.
He was sure he was going to have some interesting dreams that night.


If you have any comments or criticisms, or any similar stories to share,
I'd love to hear from you.

My e-mail address is as follows:
furryfranks_email@yahoo.co.uk