Marco’s prick was flushed a bright red from its long immersion in the tub, and Gino’s asshole was no doubt relaxed from the heat and still slick with a residue of saliva from the prolonged rimming Marco had given him.
Marco paused only long enough to get a condom on his big hard cock and smear some lubricant all over it. Then he got into fucking position and drove the full length of his turgid whang deep inside the younger man’s body, and Gino took it all, without visible difficulty or complaint.
It obviously wasn’t the first time he’d been fucked. He went wild under Marco, squirming and shoving his ass up into the other stud’s groin.
I had no training as a lip reader, but I had no trouble at all seeing that Gino kept saying “Fuck me, fuck me!” over and over again.
Marco was a remarkably agile lover. His hips moved in a blur of motion, driving his dick in and out of Gino’s yielding asshole so rapidly that, watching, I was surprised the horny contractor didn’t ejaculate at once.
The obscene display got me so hot that I was tempted to unzip my trousers, pull out my prick, and masturbate myself to orgasm right there in the open air…but I restrained himself with an effort, and, using both hands to hold the camera steady, glutted myself upon the spectacle of Marco fucking Gino.
A few breathless minutes later, Marco’s buttocks shook even more violently than usual, and I knew that he was depositing his full load deep within the other guy’s willingly surrendered rectum.
Both naked men were gleaming wet with sweat from their sexual exertions as—still locked together by Marco’s stiff penis jammed up Gino’s ass—they slid back into the steaming hot tub together, immersing themselves up to their necks.
I was tempted to sneak up on the couple and take them completely unawares. But I decided to play fair. So I put the camera down and went outside. I tapped my car horn a few times, as though I was signaling while pulling into the driveway from the street. Then I walked toward the greenhouse. My hard-on made walking damned difficult!
Entering the greenhouse and pausing to admire the workmanship of the completed remodeling job, I suppressed a smirk when I saw that Marco and Gino had climbed out of the hot tub and were frantically drying themselves off with a couple of towels. I recognized the distinctive reddish-brown color and thick, plush pile of the terrycloth. They were my own towels, “borrowed” from my bathroom’s linen closet!
I wondered if the two horny bastards had been fucking and sucking in my own bed during my absence, or if they’d confined their lewd activities to the outdoors! But, in all fairness, I had told Marco that and his assistant were to make themselves at home. From the looks of it, they’d taken me quite literally.
Next, I spotted what might be described as the incriminating evidence—which, as we cops say, was in plain view, giving me probable cause to make a bust. It consisted of a box of condoms, a plastic bottle of lube, and an empty condom wrapper and a used rubber—all deposited on the deck near the rim of the tub.
Rather enjoying the two men’s discomfiture, I now used my best “cop voice” of authoritative command.
“Okay,” I barked. “What’s going on here?”
Both men jumped. I’d succeeded in startling them. The stunned look on their faces was priceless.
“There’s been a complaint of some sort of public indecency going on here,” I added, mock-sternly.
Gino, interestingly enough, was the first to recover his composure and find his voice. It was the first time he’d seen me in uniform, and his eyes roamed restlessly up and down my body. I had the feeling he liked what he saw.
“Not here, officer,” he assured me, playing along with my gag. “I’m sure the owner would never allow anything like that to go on. After all, he’s a police officer, too.”
“Yeah? Well, you might be surprised what can go on, even on a police officer’s private property. Especially when he’s off duty. I was surprised to see your truck and Gino’s car still out front, Marco.”
“We—uh—we just finished the job a few minutes ago,” Marco blurted out.
I was sure he was lying, because I didn’t see any tools, raw materials, or debris lying around. Apparently, they’d already collected all of these things and either stashed them in the truck, or, in the case of the scraps and debris, thrown them away. No, they’d finished the job, tidied up—and then they’d stripped down and gotten into the tub and begun to amuse themselves. Not that I could blame them. I only wished I’d been invited to the pool party!
Marco, fumbling for words, tried to embellish his alibi. “And…we couldn’t help trying out the tub…just to make sure it worked right. I hope you don’t mind. After all, you did tell us to make ourselves at home.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I admitted. “In fact, I think I’ll join you. I’ve just had a long, stressful shift, and that water certainly looks inviting.”
I began to peel off my uniform and my underclothes, making no effort to conceal my massive erection. When I was standing there stark naked in the bright sunlight under the glass roof panes, I noticed with satisfaction that both of the men had stopped toweling themselves, and were staring quite openly at my body and crotch.
Nude, I gingerly eased myself into the water, letting out a gasp of sheer physical pleasure as the hot liquid enveloped my body. It was absolute bliss!
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Marco commented, with professional pride.
“It feels fantastic! Aren’t you two going to join me?” I asked, mock-innocently.
Marco was the first to drop his towel and get back into the tub. After a moment’s hesitation, a blushing Gino followed his lead.
Gino was now tongue-tied, but Marco made small talk, asking me about my day at work. While answering him, I managed to slide close to him in the tub, until our limbs were virtually rubbing against each other under the water line.
In mid-sentence, I “casually” placed my hand on Marco’s knee, and Marco responded with a much more brazen form of underwater exploration, groping for my cock and balls, cupping the heavy, waterlogged genitals in his hand, and starting to stroke me into an even greater degree of erection.
“About that rain check you gave me,” I said.
“It’s still good,” Marco replied. “You can cash it in any time you want. Provided the job’s been completed to your satisfaction?”
“Oh, I’m satisfied—so far. I’ve got this gut feeling that complete satisfaction can’t be far behind. I think I will cash it in. Right now.”
“Be my guest, buddy.”
Gino spoke up. “What rain check? What’re you guys walking about?”
“Just some unfinished business between me and my cop friend, here,” Marco told him, flippantly.
Gino didn’t realize what his boss was doing at first, so he must have been quite startled when I suddenly grabbed Marco, pulled him against my chest, and kissed him on the mouth.
Ignoring Gino for the moment, we gave each other rough, energetic hand jobs underwater, our tongues darting in and out of each other’s mouths. Finally, I stood up in the tub, grasped Marco’s wet head between my hands, and pulled his face to my crotch.
Marco’s mouth opened wide, and—resembling an alligator attacking its swimming prey—he pushed his head and shoulders forward through the water, his chin parting the waves like the prow of a ship, and then he deftly swallowed up my meaty erection.
He began to suck, slowly and wantonly. He made a meal of it, moaning as he savored the weight and mass and the taste of my cock inside his lewdly suctioning mouth.
I heard a splash as Gino, too, stood up in the tub, moving in close to me and embracing me. His shyness forgotten, Gino grasped both of my nipples and toyed with them while he pushed his face next to mine, silently begging to be kissed.
I crushed my mouth down against Gino’s, and we both moaned loudly when we felt Marco’s hands grasp both of our pricks at once—stroking them, drawing them together, comparing them.
Marco alternated, sucking one
of our cocks for a minute or two before twisting his head around to slurp on the other and pull it down into his relaxed and flexible throat.
Seemingly inflamed by the taste of our two big dicks, Marco finally stood up too, turned around, and bent over, gripping the edge of the tub to support himself.
“Fuck me, Five-O!” he gasped. “Fuck my ass!”
I hadn’t come yet, so I didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation. I grabbed a fresh rubber from the box and put it on my dick, then I gave myself a swipe of lube from the bottle. I got into position, sank my prick between Marco’s slippery-wet buttocks, and humped him hard. The heat of Marco’s anus, the tightness of his sphincter muscle around the base of my rutting shaft, and the contractor’s gyrations against my own pelvis all combined to push me rapidly toward orgasm.
It was as though the past decade had never happened. I felt like a horny kid again, fooling around with Marco after school in that drab empty office suite. But this sex was much better than those fumbling experimentations had ever been. We weren’t kids any longer. We were grown men, who knew how to join our bodies together and move together in order to give each other a maximum of pleasure. I fucked Marco, all right but not content to be a passive recipient of my thrusts, he fucked himself on my dick. It felt wonderful!
I didn’t resist when Gino stepped up behind me and began to finger my own asshole.
“My boss has a hot asshole, doesn’t he?” Gino whispered in my ear.
“He’s the best,” I replied.
“Yours feels nice and tight, too,” Gino said, as his finger continued to explore my anal aperture.
There didn’t seem any point in my playing hard to get.
“Do you want to fuck me, Gino?” I asked.
“Hell, yeah! Can I?”
“Sure. Go right ahead, Gino,” I urged the young stud in a tense, guttural whisper, all the while not missing a stroke inside Marco’s butt. “Fuck me while I fuck him. Let me have your cock!”
I groaned when I felt my asshole being stretched open by Gino’s hefty Italian sausage. But I forced myself to relax my sphincter, accept the impalement, and—now sandwiched between the two men—I resumed my humping of Marco while Gino began to screw me with a lusty abandon.
“Fuck!” Gino cried. “This is even better than pussy!”
Marco grunted. “Told you so, didn’t I?” Without waiting for a reply, Marco threw his butt into high gear. “Come on, guys!” he urged. “Let’s quit this playing around and get down to some really good, hard fucking! Let’s fuck!”
We fucked.
Stuck in the middle as I was, I was truly experiencing the best of both worlds.
As I fucked and got fucked simultaneously, my primary sensory impression was one of intense heat. The steam rising from the surface of the water rippling around my knees seemed to penetrate my entire body. Surely my internal organs were every bit as flushed and reddened as my skin, and sweating just as profusely?
My cock was hard, but my balls were relaxed by the heat, bouncing about wildly—and indeed rather painfully!—between my thighs as I humped the full length of my whang deep into Marco’s torridly responsive guts.
When I came, I felt utterly dehydrated by my ejaculation, as though the semen shooting from my overexcited prick was simply a more intense form of sweat.
I knew that Gino and Marco were both coming, too. I could feel the hot wet wads of sperm that Gino was blasting up my own ass, the extra pressure of Marco’s spasming asshole tightening around my exploding dick. I could hear the two men’s cries of delight ringing in my ears, mingling with my own bestial pants of total, mindless physical gratification.
My companions in pleasure and I wisely crawled out of the tub and collapsed on the wet, slippery deck to relax and cool down after our intense shared experience.
When, later, Marco and I had a private discussion about the incident, he admitted that he and Gino had finished the job early that afternoon, as planned. They’d celebrated by having a few beers while soaking in the hot tub, and they had enjoyed themselves so much that Marco had finally been able to fulfill a long-cherished ambition. Namely, he’d managed to seduce Gino.
“I always knew that boy could be had,” Marco confided to me, looking smug. “All it took was the right circumstances.”
It was, Marco pointed out brazenly, the perfect way to end a long, hard day of construction work. I ought to be grateful to the two men for having “broken in” the tub—in more ways than one!
I took the hint. Marco and his young stud assistant were my welcome guests for the remainder of the summer and fall, often dropping by in the late afternoon or early evening on their way home from a job, for a threesome in the greenhouse.
I was already looking forward to the wintertime, when Marco’s business tended to slow down, and he and Gino would be even more regular visitors. The combination of their hot bodies with the heat of the sauna and hot tub promised me a sultry winter indeed.
Epilogue
Five-O and His Copfucker
Few men can say that they’re completely content with their lives. I’m one of the fortunate ones who can make that claim.
My days as a rookie are now long behind me. I still have quite a way to go before I become one of the “old timers”—the kind of veteran cop who’s looking forward to retirement, and who likes to tell anyone who’ll listen all about how things were so much tougher on the force back in the old days.
I’m somewhere in the middle between those two extremes. I’m now in my early thirties. I’ve become the kind of experienced police officer whom the new recruits respect and try to model themselves after. And I enjoy looking out for them, and helping them to learn the ropes. Sometimes, of course, my mentoring includes a sexual component. But that’s only to be expected. After all, we cops are only human. We have the same sex drive that other men have.
Okay, maybe my sex drive is a little stronger than most. Because, not so coincidentally, I’m a gay cop. I’m living proof that a police officer’s private life has nothing to do with his ability to do the job. It’s entirely possible to lead an active sex life with other men—in my case, a very active sex life—and still protect and serve the public, to the best of one’s ability.
I still have Franco Ducati as my partner and occasional fuck buddy. And I also have Marco Torelli, of all people, as my lover.
Having a contractor as a boyfriend had its advantages, I soon found out. Marco designed an addition to my house which almost doubled the square footage. He and Gino built it. I paid for the supplies and Gino’s wages, of course. Marco contributed his services—although it might be more accurate to say that he took them out in trade. In effect, I bartered for the addition, paying for it with my mouth, my cock, and my ass. I don’t think Marco felt shortchanged.
Marco got me in touch with a landscaper who planted my front and back yards with plantings that even I couldn’t destroy by neglect. The landscaper also found me some large Italian terracotta pots. He filled them with flowering plants and arranged them on the deck around the hot tub inside the greenhouse. The space became an oasis, and a perfect place in which to have sex. Marco and I began throwing what we called our “greenhouse parties,” about once a month. Gino was always invited. So was Ducati. And, since these were for all practical purposes sex parties, we invited Howard Petrie, Manny Blanco, Ken Sanderson, and other gay cops as well.
The irony of this wasn’t lost on my lover.
“Jesus, Five-O,” Marco remarked to me after one of our quiet little orgies. “When you and I first met, back when we were both kids, I was the bad influence on you. Now you’re the bad influence on me. Thanks to you, I’ve developed this real thing for cops.”
“There’re worse bad habits.”
I always liked it when Marco called me Five-O. And it didn’t take long for our inner circle of intimate friends to come up with a suitable nickname for him. He became known as Copfucker. And trust me, he certainly lived up to the name.
It
took a while for me to talk Marco into giving up his apartment and moving in with me. But he did. He insisted that we have an open relationship. Each of us was free to fuck other guys. But—interestingly enough—the longer we were together, the more monogamous we became. I had Ducati. Marco had Gino. In effect, Marco and I were a couple, who occasionally expanded ourselves into a threesome or a foursome. About once a month, as a special treat, we admitted other men into our circle, by hosting one of our popular group sex parties.
Down at work, it became understood that, whenever a gay or bisexual rookie joined the department, he was invited to one of our get-togethers as part of his initiation. We made sure he was made to feel at home and thoroughly broken in. We made it our business to make a man out of the boy, and help him become “one of the guys.”
But, essentially, Marco and I loved each other. We still do. We’re just a couple of old-fashioned guys at heart.
We celebrate as our anniversary the day Marco moved in with me.
“Me, of all people, married to a cop,” he remarked, on our fifth such anniversary. “Who’d have thought it?”
“We didn’t think it,” I reminded him. “We didn’t plan it. It just happened. And I’m so glad it did.”
“Me, too.”
He kissed me. And then I fired up the hot tub and opened the champagne. My man and I had a lot to celebrate.
About the Author
Roland Graeme began writing erotic fiction, using a variety of pseudonyms, as a teenager. At first, he pounded out his manuscripts on that now nearly forgotten cultural artifact, a manual typewriter. A great deal has changed in the publishing world since then.
One thing which has not changed is Graeme’s curiosity about all aspects of human sexuality. His other interests include literature, history, music, and art.
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