I’m Stuart Holden, Junior Law Partner at Wilson, Arnold, And Stubbs. I’m sitting stretched out really doing nothing this warm Saturday afternoon. Staring out the picture window across the room from me trying not to think about the murder trial I’m starting on Monday defending a cop killer.
I seem to be molded into the black leather recliner, laying back, feet up, ankles crossed, still wearing the white sweat socks and baggy black basketball shorts and faded green tank top I wore this morning playing pick-up ball with my best pal Buck, the police Sergeant who lives across the street.
Hitchcock High School has a paved basketball court that is usually deserted in the early am on the weekends so that’s where Buck and I meet to unwind and relive our youth. We went to school at Hitchcock, both of us on Coach Williams basketball team. We played for him and won a State Championship in our Senior year. He was tough but we loved him. Me a center being tall and Buck a point guard.
We’re both forty something. He’s 5’9”, 175 lbs. stocky in a pleasant bull dog kind of way, to my lanky 6’3” 190lbs. frame. He has brown puppy dog eyes to my light blues. He still sports the black high n tight cut he wore in the Marine Corps when he was a military policeman. in contrast to my executive graying brownish hair, cut short and neat in a fashionable style, squared at the back.
He served a tour in Iraq and two in Afghanistan, while I served as second chair to one of the powerful partners of our law firm. You can imagine the guilt I carry with me realizing that he put his ass on the line for our country while I put mine at the end of a buffet line at Sidney Arnold’s country club.
Buck is the sort of guy other men wish they were. He’s masculine in a relaxed unassuming way, confident but not arrogant. A slight swagger when he’s in uniform. He’s there to lend a helping hand to friends or strangers alike. Always ready to help out, whether it be for a fellow lawman or the little old lady trying to cross a busy intersection. He’s a role model for his eighteen-year old son Daniel, a Senior at Hitchcock High, as well as my son Mark, also eighteen and a Senior.
Our boys hang together, when you see Mark, you see Daniel. Mark is a sprinter on the School track team while Daniel is the center for the Blue Devil football team. They’re inseparable since my wife passed away a year ago from fourth stage breast cancer. I try to fill the void left when Jen died, but work keeps me away from home more than I should allow, and that I will always regret.
Lucky for me and for Mark, Buck steps in to help out doing things with Mark that I should be doing. There is a tinge of jealously on my part. The part of me that wants to say to Buck “Back the fuck off bro, this is my son, not yours” but those words never pass my lips. I have a love/hate relationship where he’s concerned, a fact that I will never burden him with.
The front door bell sounds snapping me out of my reverie. Maybe this is the package I’m expecting from work, but as I approach the door I can see through the side pane Buck in uniform standing at my door. Damn, no wondering chicks fall all over themselves when he’s around. He’s standing there with an unfamiliar frown on his face, white cop bike helmet in his right hand, tall patrol boots on his feet spread wide. I pull the door open and he speaks, almost shouting, his eyes burning into mine.
He says “Just saw on the news that you’re defending that son of a bitch cop killer! That motherfucker shot Sean point black in the back of his head, blew his god damned brains out, and you’re going into court defending that creep?”
Buck’s angry, his red face and clenched jaw throws me for a loop, the way he spewed those words into my face, spittle landing on my forehead shocks and nails me to the floor.
“Buck, I didn’t want this case. I tried my best to get out of it. I know how you feel man. I tried to tell you about it this morning when we played pick up, but I couldn’t get up the nerve. I know how you feel about Sean man, I feel the same way. But it’s my job, it’s my job man, just like being who you are is your job. Please don’t hold this against me bro, you know I love and respect you and all you stand for, please man, please try to understand.” I have both hands out and on his shoulders looking straight into his eyes.
“Yeah, I understand.” He replies sarcastically. “Like HELL I do. You do this and it’s all over between us, ALL OVER! No going back. You get that?” “ALL OVER – FUCK YOU MAN – FUCK YOU!”
He drops his cop helmet over his head, tightens the chin strap, lowers the visor, turns and stalks off my porch. All I see through my watering eyes is the blur of my best friend walking away from me convinced that it’s all over between us.
His black leather motorcycle jacket tight to his waist, and his cop breeches clinging to his muscular ass. And one of his patrol boots kicking up the stand as he mounts his bike, and speeds away.
I just stand in my doorway. A chill spilling from the top of my head all the way down to my socked feet. I don’t think I have ever felt so alone since my wife Jen passed away. It feels like a part of me is in danger of being cut off, like I am about to lose an arm or a leg.
Then I heard the door leading up from the garage to the kitchen open and slam shut.
I turn away from the door and see Mark anchored in the archway between the dining room and the living room, standing there, hands clinched by his sides. A puzzled look on his tanned face. Tank top dripping with his sweat, no show socks and Asics running shoes on his feet and white jogging shorts, wet at the crotch and seat. His big boy uncut dick bulging, straining in his shorts trapped in his jockstrap.
“Dad, why the hell are defending that cop killer? No way man, no way!” He yells at me.
“Daniel just told me, he’s crazy man, crazy mad. What am I supposed to do, he’s my best friend, he’ll never speak to me again, NEVER!”
“Calm down son, just calm down for a minute.” I say walking over and grip his angry, trembling body. I smell the sweat and young man pheromones assailing my nostrils sending an unfamiliar electric sensation to my crotch. My dick is filling with blood, beginning to stretch the mesh fabric of my jockstrap, precum slicking the head. My brain is buzzing to the point that I feel faint. I’m talking to myself inside my head, GET CONTROL OF YOURSELF, GET CONTROL OF YOURSELF! What the fuck is happening. Get control. Step back, breathe. Calm down.
My own son is tight in my arms. I release him quickly and step back and take a deep breath to clear my head.
“Dad, you can’t defend this bastard. You don’t understand what’s at stake. I can’t lose Dan, I just can’t lose him. Don’t you understand Dad, don’t you UNDERSTAND?”
Tears are rolling down his handsome, grimaced face. His eyes are shut tight with both hands clenched at his sides. His head is slowly moving from side to side as an avalanche of dread takes over his body.
“You’re not going to lose Dan, son. I’ll talk to him, you’ll see, everything is going to be all right, I’ll talk to Daniel.”
Has this day turned into a nightmare? Am I dreaming all of this? I must be dreaming. Wake up man, WAKE UP! This is just a bad dream. You shouldn’t have eaten that crab thing at the club last night. Buck is still your friend and Mark hasn’t lost his best friend because of you.
Suddenly Mark is shaking my shoulders, hugging me. “Dad, are you ok? You look funny. Come over here and sit down.” He’s leading me over to the recliner across the room. “Dad, sit down please, you don’t look good.”
“What happened son? Did I black out? I say, reaching up to rub my temples looking into his concerned eyes. That beautiful face with so much of his mother shining through, smiling down at me.
Mark says softly “No Dad, you didn’t pass out, but you gave me quite a scare - should I call somebody? “I’m sorry I came on like a such a jackass – you haven’t done anything wrong.”
He’s kneeling beside me now, his hand slowly stroking the inside of my bare leg, absent mindedly comforting me. I look at my son in a different light, the young boy I nurtured and reared into a beautiful young man is showing his love and concern. A beautiful slightly crocked smile is playing across his face creating dimples in both cheeks. Thick brown eyelashes flutter calling attention to the crinkle at the corner of both eyes, almost a squint. He has the same brown eyes as his mother. The son I would give my life to protect is worried about me. I have to fix this, and soon.
“Son, what are you doing? I say with alarm. The hand that was stroking my hairy leg is now cupping the bloated cock and hairy balls trapped inside of their mesh prison. I’m paralyzed staring into the top of his head as he lowers his face and buries it there. Hot breath warming my crotch as his nose nudges the dick that brought him into the world, poking it, humming to himself.
This can’t be happening. There must be something I said or did to cause him to do this. I can’t be gay, he can’t be gay, just no way that can be. He’s like me straight as they come. I’ve never had a thought about another man sexually. It has never entered my mind, never. Yet I’m just sitting here, paralyzed while my uncut dick is stretching painfully waiting for what comes next.
“Son, do you do this kind of thing with Dan?” I quiz, dreading his answer.
“Yes sir, he puts on his Dad’s cop uniforms, cuffs my hands behind my back and makes me lick his Dad’s patrol boots. He makes me suck his cock and lick his ass. He fucks me and I like it, no I love it.”
“That’s wrong son, just wrong – you have to stop!”
“Is this wrong Dad?” he says sliding his warm hand into the top of my shorts, taking hold of my hardening member, as he burrows his young face into my crotch. Liberates my hairy balls letting them fall and hang between my spread legs.
The tip of his tongue swipes over the crown of my glans to scoop up my dick drool. He takes my dick head into his warm wet mouth. Swirls his tongue around it and pushes the tight skin back, revealing more of the bloated helmet. He’s playing with it. Trying to draw the cum out of my ball and into his mouth.
He pulls off and yanks me up to my feet saying “I want you to buy cop uniforms for both of us, just like Bucks, boots and all – you’re rich, you can do it.” He says. “I want Buck and Daniel to punish us both, both of us in uniform.”
“They abuse you son?”
“Hell, yeah they do, and I like it – how do you think I get these bruises all over my back, from track?”
“Take a look.” He says turning away from me and lifts his tank top. “Buck did this with his cop belt three days ago. Drew blood and made me lick it off, and I fucking loved it!”
I can see the cross-hatch marks left by Buck’s hot cop belt that have faded into a ghost-like patterns.
“I’m their slave and I’ll do anything they want Dad. Buck wants you man, he wants you just like he wants me – him and Dan, they want to be our Masters Dad, It would be an honor for both of us to serve them.”
I’m stunned into silence as Mark goes back nursing on my dick, and I let him. My nuts are boiling over as I watch my son take command of my cock. He has total control of his old man now and he knows it, and I let him continue to work my cock, the same one that brought him into the world.
He takes his mouth off of my dick, still holding it in his paw and speaks to me like I was his student.
“I’m going to teach you how to be just like me, father and son slaves to two superior men.”
“Bucks talks about what he wants to do to you all the time while I’m sucking his cock or he has his dick up my ass fucking it like there was no tomorrow.” He says “He wants you more than he wants me – you’re all he talks about Dad.”
“Now, get up, I’m going to teach you to service me like you’re going to serve Buck. You gotta learn Dad, he expects it and you’re going to practice on me.” He says skinning his shorts down to the floor and steps out of them leaving his sweated-up jockstrap in place.
“Now get down on your knees Dad and pull my jock off with your teeth, slave boy. I’m going to feed you some boy cum and make you crave more!”
I don’t know why I did it, but I sank to my knees in front of him feeling helpless and owned.
Is this something that’s always been beneath the surface, lurking and ready to emerge at the slightest provocation?
Did Mark see the real me? Did all the times I checked out Buck’s crotch mean that I desired him?
Am I a queer for Sidney Arnold at work because I want to serve him blindly like a slave? All these thoughts are rushing through my brain like a freight train.
Mark grabs the back of my head and presses his meat into my face. Smearing his teenage precum over my lips. Forcing his dickhead into my mouth, making me taste a cock for the first time.
The fullness of his young boy dick fills my mouth and I’m tasting my own son’s swollen dick meat and loving the taste and the feel.
He doesn’t hold off very long, because he’s so caught up in the scene he’s forced me into. After several quick jabs, his dickhead hits the back of my throat and starts spitting molten sperm.
The salty/bitter taste of his spunk, the bleachy taste blended with his sweat tastes like a banquet fit for the Gods on Olympus. I hold his load in my mouth savoring the gift for several minutes before I swallow its slimy goodness down to my empty belly.
I sit back on my haunches and grab his hard ass and pull him into my face to revel in the scent coming from his ass crack, pungent and dark.
“You liked that didn’t you Dad – you liked sucking your boy’s dick, didn’t you?”
“And you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do from now on. Isn’t that right Dad?” He demands, looking down on me as I kneel in front of him. His sweaty crotch still in my face, his dick coming to life again.
“Get back on my dick cocksucker – bring me off again slave boy and get used to being called that because that’s exactly what Buck is going to call you when he takes you over.”
I allow him to push his hardening cock back into my mouth and I suck on it like there was no tomorrow. His hair trigger sends another hot stream of boy semen down my gullet after only a few jabs and I eat it like a starving man.
He pulls out of my mouth and wipes his glans over my forehead leaving a spider web of cock drool in its wake.
My boy puts his relaxing cock back into its jockstrap home.
Throws his head back and uses both hand to comb through his blonde hair wet with perspiration, it’s length comes almost down to his shoulders reminds and me of a gladiator. All he needs to complete the picture is a little more muscle in his biceps and some tight metal armbands.
Mark states “Those Dehner bal-laced Patrol boots you’re going to buy for both of us are going to cost you somewhere in the neighborhood of three thousand bucks or more, and another couple grand for the tailored cop uniforms – Buck will instruct you in that department.”
“And you know something else Dad? Buck told me a while back that he thought you might be a homo, or at least bi from the way you’re always checking out his package, and come to think about it, I’ve caught you more than once eyeing my crotch – right, huh?”
My world is slowly coming into focus as I remain on my knees. I knew when Jen was alive and we were able to have sex even though her chemo treatment slowed down her sex drive, she was willing to let me get inside of her tight pussy without a rubber and leave my deposit. Just that accommodation on her part made me feel like more of a husband and a man. Now my son feeding me his semen has a similar effect. I feel whole once again. I realize that a lot of folks will not understand where I’m coming from, but there it is.
“Hey Dad” Mark says after straightening up. He pulls his cellphone from his shorts. “Buck just texted me that you defending that cop killer is adding fuel to his desire to take you down and he wants us both over to his house when he gets off of duty tonight. He wants us to clean out our butt holes, says that he’s got plans.”
I’ve never been fucked before. Jen used to play with my ass sometimes using her index finger to stimulate my prostate, but never put anything else up there. I’ve thought about what a rubber dildo would feel like, but never went that far.
“Ok Dad, let’s go upstairs to your bathroom and I’ll clean you out. I don’t believe you know exactly how to do that correctly.”
He drapes one arm over my shoulder, and allows the other to drop down my back using his hand to fondle me, cupping my ass and enjoying its hardness. My mind is going a mile a minute in anticipation.
And he’s right, I don’t know how to do that. The thought of my son playing with my ass and cleaning it out. I have to admit to myself that this is something I’m looking forward to.
My dick is starting to get hard again. Yet I’m feeling totally docile after having sucked two loads out of my own son’s balls.
We head upstairs to my bedroom and into the bathroom. I just stand there as my son pulls down my basketball shorts and the jock strap that I’ve been wearing all day.
He holds the mesh cup of the strap over his face and inhales my funk before dropping it onto the tile floor.
“You know” He says to me “Buck likes to rim and suck on a clean asshole and play with it before he fucks it. You have that to look forward to. But from the way he sounded in that text, he intends to use his belt on your ass and back. That’s what really gets him off, just ask Dan.”
The thought of my best friend tying my hands behind my back and whipping my ass until it turns bright red before he fucks it, has my heart racing, ready to jump out of my chest.
I’ve watched and admired, maybe even lusted after him. Now being able to come to terms with it. Sets me free.
According to Mark, Buck has been having these thought about me ever since we first met in High School. I knew right away that I liked Buck. He supplied the missing part of me in some sense. Me the intellectual and the thinker and he the football jock all the chicks flocked to after a game.
I helped him with his studies and he encouraged me to take part in school sports. The reason I tried out for the track team and basketball team and became a star sprinter, was because of him. That is the glue that bonds us together. And that bond has lasted through the years. And now we have come full circle it seems.
Mark leaves my bathroom and goes to his returning with a long flexible stainless-steel type of hose with a long smooth narrow head with holes in the center and all around.
“Mark, what’s that son?”
It’s, what guys use to clean out their ass, just takes a couple of sessions of flooding your hole with warm water then you sit down when you can’t handle the pressure anymore, shit it out, and do it over and over until what you shit out is clear, clean water. You know, wash, rinse, repeat. Ha, ha.”
He has the mischievous smile of a boy when he’s done something he shouldn’t have done.
“Dad, go into your shower, turn around facing away from me, spread your cheeks and bend over slightly and I’ll do the rest – you might even like it.”
Mark goes to work removing the showerhead and replaces it with the apparatus. Uses his soapy hand to slick up the metal head, turns on the tap and runs the water until it’s lukewarm.
I feel his hands spreading my asscheeks, sliding the end of the hose past my sphincter, then slowly pushes it forward until the entire end of the hose is up my hole.
I feel the warm water flood my insides. He then pulls it out with a slight pop and tells me to try to keep my anus good and tight until I can’t take the pressure anymore then make my way to the toilet bowl, sit down and expel the water.
Then, take a look and see what comes out. Go back in the shower stall and repeat until the water comes out clear and clean. It takes three sessions to clean me out to his satisfaction.
“Dad, good job, you’re good and clean and ready for the evening.”
“Thanks, son. Can I help clean you out?”
““No worries Dad, already cleaned out and ready, but thanks anyway.'
“Come on Dad, let’s shower together, I’ve always wanted to do it with you”
“Sounds like a plan, let’s do it.”
Into the shower. Mark first soaps up my back, paying special attention to my ass crack, playing with it like a new toy. Then he turns me around to soap up my chest and all the way down to my crotch. My cock is standing tall in his soapy hands and my nuts are hanging low as he holds and fondles them.
“Let’s clean off all of that deodorant from your pits Dad, so you can get some man smell going. That’s what I like about a real man, his stink.”
I return the favor soaping up my son exactly the way he did me. We dry each other off with towels and leave the shower and plop down on my king-sized bed. Spread out side by side and fall into a dreamy sleep state snuggling together.
We are awakened by Bucks police motorcycle thundering into his driveway across the street.
We get up and go over to the window to see Buck strut across the street and up to our house.
“Well son, this is it.”
“Yep, Dad. This is it.”
End of Chapter One.
