He flicked his Zippo continuously as he sat in the glow of another balmy August night. The station was deserted. The revelers and country guys dressed in skin-tight denim had all returned home. It was late. All was quite. All was deathly silent as he enjoyed the solitude of his fire house tomb.

Steve loved his fire department. And, being the chief of one of the most successful, not-for-profit volunteer services in the county, he had made a name for himself. He had joined this very sanctuary when he was eighteen...and, here he sat, almost twenty years later, in the thick of the night, surrounded by the silent giants, the rescue trucks, the tankers...this was his kingdom.

At thirty-seven, he had imagined his life quite different. He was married, an unfortunate fact. He hated his wife. And, she hated him. After years of trying and trying to make a life for the two of them, he had grown so tired of being refused, neglected and ignored. "A grown man shouldn't have to jerk it to get off," he once told her. It had been years since they'd had sex. And, he despised her for never paying attention to him-unless it was to get his money.

He was virile and masculine. At six feet tall and a solid mass of muscle, grey eyes and a shaved head and perfectly trimmed goatee, there was no reason for his wife not to want him. His eight inch cock begged to be teased and pleasured...and, all too often, in the silence of his empty fire station, he would blow a load by his own hand, spilling his seed onto the side of one of the fire engines.

The musky smell of men, of smoke, of tobacco dip and sweat...yes, this was his kingdom. And, as he struggled to find sexual release, still in the peak of his appetites, his mind had begun to wander to places that were very unfamiliar with him. He had begun to notice the young bucks that came in dressed in tight wranglers that clung to their jaunty asses and loaded crotches, work boots and big belt buckles. He notices the tight t-shirts that were stained with grease and oil and soot from the hard tasks of being firemen. He noticed the rippling muscles of men as they worked out in nothing but gym shorts and looked on as sweat would bead on the shoulders of perfect bodies and run down into the divot of their copious mounds barely covered by the waistband of their underwear.

Yes, he noticed it all...even the men that more often than not went commando and let it all hang out for the world's viewing pleasure in those moments when the tones would drop and turn outs had to be put on. And, here he sat, a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other, mindlessly flicking his Zippo as he drifted from fantasy to fantasy.

He'd imagined having all of them. From the guys in their late twenties, imagining each of them fucking their wives, visualizing the undulating balls that would swing into an awaiting pussy to the younger fellows-the ones that weren't ready for commitment, the ones that put their dick in anything with a pulse. And then there were the newbies. The young bucks that join as soon as they are legal that probably are frantically stroking their dicks right at this very moment while looking at Xtube or pictures of their girlfriends.

Yes, he thought of it all. He couldn't help it. It had been years since he'd had sex. Oh, how his cock ached to stretch a hole and fill it to brim with his load. And, he was now realizing that any of these young studs would do. Any of them. What he would give to bend one of them over as he furiously munched a hairy ass, teasing an unspoiled hole with his tongue, lathering it up with his spit and without warning slamming his tortured rod deep inside that innocent, young fuck. Oh God, how he would love that. And, the sheer thought of it made the thick mammoth in his jeans begin grow.

As he began to rub his crotch, searching for the perfect fantasy to jerk off to in his head, his pager began to blare. "Wheaton Rescue: Respond with EMS. 2-5-5-1 Southwire Road. 2-5-5-1 Southwire Road. Fourty-two year old female. Chest pain. Paged out at 23:41."

His eyes began to roll back into his head...but, his fantasy would be there when he returned. He reached for the pager to respond when he heard one of his men answer the call. "9-1-1. 5-2-7 received page. En route to the station." At least he wouldn't be going alone.

And, then it hit him. 527...Ryan. Steve began to grin. Now, Ryan...now that was one hot fucker. He had joined the department as a transfer not too long ago, perhaps a month or so. At nineteen, he was an up-and-comer of the department. He could do anything...and, he was definitely a sight to see. At 6'4" tall, and 240 pounds of solid muscle, it was amazing to see him lift, drag, carry, run...or simply walk or stand. His body frame was impressive, his chiseled good looks, cool blue eyes and blonde hair. His muscle definition was perfection, his ass was round and perfect in every way...and, his dick. My God, that boy had been blessed with a dick.

Right after joining, some of the guys decided to initiate the poor guy and pantsed him right there in front of everyone. And, though he was obviously embarrassed as he stood with his athletic shorts around his ankles and no underwear in sight, he was definitely not ashamed to let people look at his massive rod that was bigger than a baby's arm or the huge nuts that hung low underneath. And, the sly grin he gave Steve that day as he slowly pulled his shorts back up...yeah, Steve definitely would like a crack at that one. But, that fellow was a straight as it got.

Steve picked up the pager. "5-1-1 to 5-2-7. I'm en route to the station and will be riding with you. Rescue engine 5-0-1 to be at standby."

"5-2-7 copies. 10-4," Ryan responded quickly.

Steve climbed into Engine 501, cranked it and put in the address for GPS. And, there he waited...still sporting a wood that couldn't just go away. Ryan pulled up just moments later and ran in to the station with his EMT bag. He climbed aboard, and Steve turned on this lights and sirens. "Engine 5-0-1 to 9-1-1. Enroute. ETA: 5 minutes," Ryan called.

"9-1-1 copies enroute. 23:44," the dispatcher responded.

"So, I figured all my guys would have been asleep," Steve stated trying to make small talk. He couldn't notice how Ryan was dressed. A tight white t-shirt and those very familiar athletic shorts. He automatically knew there was nothing underneath them except the enormous genitalia bouncing and bobbing with the bumps in the road.

"Naw, couldn't sleep, Chief," Ryan had responded. "But, if 911 had waited just a few more minutes, I woulda shot my load and been dead to world." Ryan let out a ruckus laugh and slapped his knee. Steve couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. Oh how these young bucks could say anything. He loved it. "What's kept you up, Chief? Your old lady laying it on ya," Ryan asked.

"Yeah right," Steve responded. "I can't even pay that bitch to fuck me." He turned onto Southwire Road. "Hell, it's been so long since I've gotten some I'd probably die from the excitement."

"That's a damn shame, Chief. A damn shame. Look! Right there!" Ryan pointed to the home. "Engine 5-0-1 to 9-1-1. Show us on scene." The dispatcher responded with the time.

Ryan grabbed his bag and ran to the house as Steve stayed behind to keep an eye on traffic and scene safety. About ten minutes later, he began to hear EMS in the distance. As he watched Ryan through the living room windows, he could see him caring for his patient. He had her laughing. "The damn woman thinks she is having a fucking heart attack, and he's got her laughing." Steve was amazed at him.

EMS arrived on scene, and Ryan assisted them with transporting the woman to the ambulance. And, after a few minutes, EMS had left en route to the hospital. Ryan stood there smoking his cigarette as Steve loaded up the truck. "You're really good with these people, Ryan. I'm really impressed with you. You've got a way about you...you put people at ease. That's no small feat."

"I suppose," Ryan responded with a sly grin. "I think it was because my dick hung out of my shorts for a good two minutes, and she got tickled over it. But, hey, thanks for the compliment, Chief."

The two were silent as they returned to the station. Ryan got out to spot Steve as he backed the engine in. The doors were closed and all was quiet again in his kingdom. It was just the two of them...standing in the shadows and silence.

"Mind if I smoke real quick, Chief?" Ryan asked.

"Naw, brother. I'm bout to light up to." Steve responded. The two of them stood there in the awkward silence for just a moment as each of them shifted in their stance desperately looking for something to talk about.

"So, you bout to head home, Chief?" Ryan offered.

"Naw, I've got some beer here. Probably just gonna camp out in my office on the couch tonight. I told you. There's nothing to go home to." Steve eyed Ryan over. He was such a handsome guy. "What it would be like to fuck a giant like him" was all that kept crossing his mind. "So, I never got to ask you why you left the other department. What happened?"

Ryan walked over to the side door and leaned against it looking out at the moonlight trees. "I got into a little trouble."

"There wasn't ever a mention on that from your old chief. He wrote you a fucking letter of commendation!" Steve couldn't believe that a good kid like Ryan could ever cause any trouble.

"Well, it's a long story. But, if it's just between us, I'll tell you." Ryan paused for several moments before speaking again. "I got caught having sex in the station," Ryan muttered but then followed with a chuckle.

"Oh, I see. Well, I doubt you're the first or last firefighter or EMT to fuck around in a station." Steve had been guilty of that himself.

"Well, no. But, I wasn't caught by the Chief..." Ryan threw his cigarette down and snuffed it out with his shoe. "I was caught with the Chief."

A long silence fell upon both of them as Ryan continued looking out at the beautiful night, and Steve's mind raced at trying to consort a plan to get Ryan himself. He walked up behind Ryan and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't say," Steve mumbled. "And, what would you do if you found yourself in that place again, Ryan?"

Ryan stepped back, pressing his ass again Steve allowing his straining hard to dig into the young, fleshy ass of this man. "Well, I guess it would all depend on the situation."

Steve wrapped his other arm around Ryan, pulling him in close, and allowed his hand to drift down the defined abs of this young stud until he reached the waistband of his shorts. He gently maneuvered his hand underneath, feeling his way past what felt like perfectly trimmed pubes until he came to the prize, the goliath cock that pulsed at his touch. "Hmmm. The situation?" Steve chuckled. "It's whatever you want it to be, buddy."

"You mean that?" Ryan asked.

"Yup, I've got whatever it is you want," Steve teased. His heart was racing. He couldn't believe this was happening. This stud of a man was going to take his cock, and God how he couldn't wait. There would be not self-pleasuring tonight. No. Tonight, Ryan was taking care of him.

Ryan turned his head slightly, displaying a mischievous grin. "Okay, if you say so." And, in a flash, his left elbow came up striking Steve directly in the side of the head. Steve was in a daze, his eyes unable to focus and things began to get dark as he fell to the bay floor. He looked up to Ryan, uncertain, unable to speak, searching the young buck's face and then everything went black.


"Hey! Hey! HEY!!!" Ryan shouted at Steve as he began to smack him across the face. "Hey, Ol' Timer!!! Can you hear me?"

Steve's eyes began to focus. The light was low, but he was able to find his bearings. He was in his office. "My head," he said as he winced. He looked at Ryan standing in front of him...and, he recognized that devilish grin. "What...what happened?" Steve asked.

Ryan laughed hysterically. "You told me whatever I want, Ol' Timer!" Ryan's devilish smile was terrifying and arousing at the same time.

It was at that moment that Steve noticed the pain at his wrist and ankles, and as he looked over, he noticed that he was tied to something. As his eyes continued to adjust, he began to make it out. He was tied to two ten foot ladders that had been fashioned into some sort of "X". He looked down and saw his nakedness. He looked up and his eyes caught Ryan's who stood there, still grinning, admiring his work. Ryan reached out with one hand and gently caressed Steve's hanging cock and balls. He continued to massage them, bringing Steven to a full erection. Ryan squatted down in front of Steve's hard cock as it waved and bobbed in rhythm with his heartbeat and gently licked the length of the shaft. Steve let out a load groan and let his eyes rolled back in his head as he enjoyed it. However, he was swiftly brought back to reality with a smack across the face.

"What are you doing man?" Steve asked as his heart raced and panic began to set in.

"Me? Oh, nothing right now. But, I'm about to have some fun. Don't worry, Chief! I'm not gonna hurt you. Shhhhh....no, no, no, no. No, I mean...it might hurt. But, you'll survive it...and, you'll thank me later." Ryan turned away toward the desk and reached for what looked to be a whip that had been unbraided. "Let's begin..." he whispered.

From outside of the kingdom, outside of the fire house, the moon light graced all that it touched. It was calm and serene and silent...but, the silence of the kingdom was broken with the lash of a whip...and a scream from the king....




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