Date: Mon, 29 Jun 2009 22:29:31 -0700
From: Brian Holliday <brian_holliday@charter.net>
Subject: That's My Job 2

That's My Job 2

(Thanks to Rockhunter for editing.)

"You ever been in jail, Pete?"

We were lying on the couch, head to foot or, should I say, cock to
mouth. Charlie had just swallowed the last of my cum and I was still
savoring a mouthful of his, so the question came out of left field.

"Huh?" I said. Charlie's a cop, and I'm an EMT, but I had yet to ask him if
he'd ever been run over by a truck. Of course, we didn't know each other
that well.

"You heard me."

"No, man, I've never been in jail and I never want to be! I've seen enough
cop shows to know what happens in there. Just in case you're wondering, I
like my ass hole just the size it is now, thanks!" What a fucking stupid
question.

"Oh, come on, Pete. You get so excited about nothing."

"You didn't complain when I got excited about your dick a minute ago, and
that's next to nothing."

After we finished wrestling around on the floor of my apartment, best two
falls out of three - I won by squeezing his balls till he hollered -
Charlie got right back to his subject.

"OK, you haven't been in jail. Have you ever been arrested?"

"For what? Speeding on the way to the hospital?"

"For anything! Man, you're tough to talk to... "

"So? Shut up and come here." All that wrestling had got me hot again, and
it took Charlie half an hour to cool me down.

So we were panting and sweating on my bed - king-size mattress on a heavy
brass frame - and damn if he doesn't start up again.

"Look, Pete, don't get me wrong... I really like all the sex we've had. But
I was just thinking - I mean... I'm a cop and all - let's try something a
little different."

Before I could go for his balls again, he got me in a hammer-lock and
explained.

"How about next time I come over, I wear my uniform and we try out the
handcuffs and baton?"

Hell, I couldn't believe it. I'd had sex twice in the last couple of hours,
and I was getting hard again.

"Who'd wear the handcuffs?" I asked, cautiously.

Charlie said, "Umm... " Then he saw the look in my eyes and said, "OK, you
can handcuff me the first time. But then I get a turn... OK?"

I told him that sounded fair. Shit, when I was a kid I always wanted to be
a cop... or a house painter.

Next Friday night was it, and Charlie arrived right on time, his uniform
pressed and his badge shiny. I'd looked around for a criminal outfit, but
hey, they wear anything, so I went with a t-shirt and jeans. I didn't plan
to have them on for long.

I slammed the door and, just to make the kidnap thing realistic, I bent
down, threw Charlie over my shoulder and high-tailed it for the bedroom. I
shoved the cat out of my way and before Charlie knew what hit him, I'd
tossed him on the bed and stuffed a sock in his mouth. (Hey, I told you I
watched a lot of cop shows.) Charlie had told me he didn't like cats
much. That was OK. Most days I didn't like the cat either, and I was pretty
sure he could take me or leave me.

Charlie's eyes got big when I grabbed the cuffs off his belt, closed them
on one of his wrists, then the other, after passing the chain through the
pipes on the brass headboard. I grinned. I hoped Charlie was getting what
he wanted. Maybe he hadn't bargained on me carrying people around for a
living.

That done, I pulled the baton out of its belt holster. It was black painted
metal, maybe eighteen inches long, an inch around, and smooth as glass. I
held it where Charlie could see it and stroked my fist up and down it a few
times, then rubbed it across his lips.  "Whatcha think, big guy?" I
said. "You wonder if I know what this is for?" He said something, but with
the sock in his mouth it didn't sound like much.

I didn't think Charlie would kick me, but I got up and sat on his legs
anyway, just in case. I tied a rolled-up bandana around his mouth to keep
the sock in. Then I started to unbutton his shirt, real slow. I was hard as
a rock by that time, and I had to stop to unbutton my fly and let little
Pete out for some air.

Charlie whimpered. "What's the matter, baby?" I gave my cock a few
strokes. "You want some of this? Well, maybe later. Right now, I got things
to do."

I unbuttoned his shirt all the way down, pulled it out of his pants and
laid it back. His nipples were making hard points, and I bent down and
licked each one until you could see their little brown circles through the
wet cloth of his t-shirt, then I bit one. Charlie bucked up like a bronco
at that, and he did it again when I bit the other one. "You like that,
don't you Mister Policeman. Let's see what else you like." I leaned up and
nibbled his ear lobe, taking a bite of it. Charlie moaned.

I leaned back, rubbing my dripping cock against Charlie's abs. Man, I
wanted to see that hairy chest and feel it against my prick. Damn shirt was
too tight to pull up though, and that stopped me until I went to the
kitchen and found the scissors. A little cut and the shirt ripped all the
way up. I licked and bit Charlie's hairy pecs while he thrashed
around. Then it was time to get down to business.

I got off the bed and slipped off my jeans and t-shirt, making sure Charlie
was watching.  Then I untied Charlie's shiny black shoes and dropped them
on the floor. His socks came next. I'd never paid much attention to his
feet, but I grabbed one and rubbed the sole with my fist. Charlie curled up
his toes and tried to pull away, but I held on and sucked the big toe into
my mouth, running my tongue around on it like it was something
else. Charlie's eyes closed. I thought I'd better remember that trick for
later.

By this time, Charlie's prick was making a ridge down his thigh with a big
wet spot at the tip. I loosened his belt and undid the button and
zipper. Charlie lifted his hips and let me slide his pants down and off,
tossing them over my shoulder. They must have hit the dresser because I
heard all kinds of things falling. Charlie's boxer briefs held his cock
down his right leg, and I stopped to admire it. No matter how I teased him
about it, it was a nice cock and plenty big enough for me. I bent and
nibbled up the inside of his hairy thigh, stopping before I got too
close. Charlie raised his hips and made a noise, but I didn't pay any
attention, just went back to his other leg and nibbled my way up there,
too. Precum was pouring out of his cock, making a wet spot on the
sheet. Mine was in the same condition, drooling all over Charlie's thighs
and belly. Charlie's eyes were pleading with me and I thought, 'what the
hell'.

I eased his briefs off over that hot piece of meat and it sprang up to
point at his navel. I was so hard it hurt, but there was still one thing I
had to do. I grabbed the Billy club and pushed Charlie's knees against his
chest. His hole was winking at me. "OK, Mister Policeman, I hope you're
ready," I said, holding up the stick so he could see it. His eyes were like
saucers now, and I didn't let him know I'd dipped the end into some
lube. Hey, we were just pretending, after all.

The slick metal went in with only a little push and I had six inches in
before I knew it.  Charlie groaned, and I figured I'd hit his button. I
drew the thing back, smooth and easy, and shoved it in again. Damn, it was
intense. Watching that shiny black tube slide in and out of his hot little
hole made me even hotter. I almost shot off right then and there.

I figured I wouldn't last much longer, and Charlie was throwing his head
from side to side like he does when he gets real excited. I pushed the
thing in one more time for good measure, and wiggled it around some, then
pulled it out and rolled a condom on my prick as quickly as I could.

Charlie's hole was plenty slick, and his chute opened and gobbled up my
meat clear down to the base. I held still a second, trying to catch my
breath, but Charlie wouldn't have it. He started moving his hips up to meet
me, his cock bouncing up and down on his belly. I gave in and started
pounding him for all I was worth, our bodies sliding wetly against each
other, my balls slapping his ass, sweat pouring off me and onto Charlie's
chest and abs. Charlie's head thrashed back and forth until the gag fell
out of his mouth.  All of a sudden, I felt like lava was boiling up from my
balls and down my tube, and then Charlie erupted, screaming, "Fucking Jesus
Christ, I'm coming!" I went off then, and thought I'd never stop
shooting. It came all the way up from my toes.

So after a while, I lift my head and look around, and I'm lying on
Charlie's wet and sticky chest, and both of us are drenched with sweat and
cum. Charlie's eyes open and he gives me this big, stupid grin.

"Was that great, or what?"

I had to admit that he might have had a pretty good idea. I rolled over
beside him, and just lay there for a minute, wondering if I could stand up.

Then I hear the cuffs rattle against the headboard and Charlie says, "Get
me out of these things, OK? I have to take a piss."

"Sure," I said, propping up on one elbow. "Where are the keys?"

My cat is crazy. Maybe it's my fault for getting him, because I knew he was
fixed when he came from the pound, and that's got to mess a guy up, right?
So maybe because he can't go out on the town and fuck whatever kind of
other cat might have made his tail twitch, he just sits around the
apartment thinking of ways to give me hell. He's big and brown and striped
and when I adopted him they told me his name was Fuzzy. What kind of a name
is that for a tomcat, even when he's had the tom parts removed? All he had
left below his tail was a little furry sack, so I called him
Fuzzballs. Yeah, I know. Shut up.

I looked all over for those damned keys, which Charlie said were small and
silver and on their own ring and had been in his pants pocket, where they
were not, now. Charlie's wallet, and his house keys and a bunch of change,
were on the floor in front of my dresser. Nothing else was there except
Fuzzballs, sitting in the doorway, one hind foot in the air, licking his
ass.

Houston, we have a problem.

Now, if you ever had a cat, you know they're not like Lassie... they aren't
going to fetch and bring you whatever it is you think you need. It doesn't
matter if you yell, or throw a pair of black policeman's socks at them, or
chase them down the hall. All they're gonna do is hide until it suits them
to come out, and then maybe cough up a hairball in your cereal.

In the meantime, Charlie was yelling at me. I came back and stood and
looked at him.

"Haven't you got a hairpin or something?" he said.

I ran a hand through my inch-long gelled spikes. "Sorry, honey, I must have
left them in my purse."

"Well, you must have a piece of wire around somewhere." I did, but the bent
coat hanger was too big to go in the keyhole, and the clip on my pen broke
off inside the lock.

"Oh, man," Charlie said. "I really gotta piss!"

Well, it wasn't the first time I held his dick, but if you ever have to do
that, make sure you use something deeper than a salad bowl.

After I cleaned things up, I stood and looked at Charlie. "You got any
suggestions?"

"Jeez. I guess I could call one of my buddies and have him get a spare key
from the station, but I'd never hear the end of it. Besides, you broke the
damn pen in the lock!"

After we'd argued about that for a while longer, Charlie asked if I had any
ideas.

"One, maybe," I said. And I called Jason.

Jason is a good guy. He and I have been buddies since we trained together
as paramedics. After that, I stayed with the hospital and he went a
different direction - going on to become a firefighter. Jason was straight,
but he knew that I wasn't, and he'd told me enough of his secrets so that I
could trust him with one more of mine. I figured that if anyone could get
Charlie out of those cuffs, it would be Jason.

I lucked out and got him on his cell, and in ten minutes Jason arrived and
joined me next to the bed. He raised his head and sniffed hard. Couldn't
blame him, the room reeked of sex.

"Damn," he said, looking at Charlie, arms cuffed over his head and still
naked, except I'd thrown a sheet over him. "You guys do this kind of thing
a lot?"

I shook my head. "First time for me." Charlie just looked away, his face
red as a fire truck.

"Huh," Jason said, and walked over to bang on the brass pipes of the
headboard. "I always was curious about what two guys did. Now I guess I
know."

Charlie struggled to keep his cool. "Say man, can you help me out?"

Jason nodded and paced back and forth a couple of steps. "Maybe so. I gotta
look things over here, never seen a situation quite like this one before."

It seemed to me that Jason's pants were getting a little tighter in the
crotch. We'd showered together, but I'd never seen him with a
hard-on. Always wanted to, though... I walked over and twitched the sheet
off Charlie. "See, this is one hell of a problem, Jase.  Think you can do
anything about it?"

Jason smiled. "I think a hacksaw would cut through those pipes, but it
would be a shame to ruin the headboard. I might have a pipe wrench that
would work, but I'd have to go get my toolbox..."

"Can you do it or not?" Charlie was running out of patience. He noticed
Jason staring at his dick, so he turned away as much as he could. That, of
course, gave Jason a view of his ass... Charlie has a nice ass.

"Sure, I do things like this all the time... " Jason said, "get people out
of sticky situations and stuff. After all... that's my job. I'm just having
a little trouble concentrating right now..."

Charlie twisted around and gave me a really dirty look. "I thought you were
straight!" he said to Jason.

"I am," Jason said. "It's just that my girlfriend's out of town... "

"I think we can work something out," I told him. "And, Charlie, just
remember... this started out as your idea."

I'm kind of hoping that Charlie wants to play cops and robbers again real
soon. Jason says he hopes so, too. I'm not so sure about letting Charlie
handcuff me though. After all, it worked so well the way we did it the
first time, why mess with perfection?

Charlie says give him a week or two, at least. Somebody told his captain
that Charlie was walking funny while on his beat the next day. I told
Charlie not to worry, he'd get used to it.

And damn if Fuzzballs didn't jump up and drop those handcuff keys right
there on my chest the next morning. Stupid cat. At least it beats the mouse
he brought me last week.


That's My Job 2 (Too) - Brian Holliday 6/21/09