Best Gay Erotica 2014 (7 page)

Big Thick Dick yanks my head to his piece. “Me next,” he says. I open my mouth as wide as humanly possible. I relax all my muscles except my throat. Big Thick Dick is fucking my mouth hard. I'm all teary-eyed as he smashes his dick against my throat. Double-Chocolate Bubble Booty has zipped up and left. I know I will see him again. He knows now how much I love sucking a nice dick. Big Thick Dick pushes my head in. He holds his dick there until something comes. I can taste his juices tumbling down my dick-sucker throat. I grip his hairy bubble painter butt as he fills me, as he feeds me his cum. A string of his juice hangs from the tip of his dick to my lips. He works his dick back into his boxers and zips up his painter pants. I sit there half-ass naked, cum-drool running down my chin onto my work shirt. The loads of Double-Chocolate Bubble Booty and Big Thick Dick are still thick in my throat. Mmm…nice!

Big Thick Dick takes a Kleenex and jots something on the tissue. He hands it to me. It's a cell-phone number. “You're the cock-sucking slut I've been looking for,” he says, and walks off. I pull up my pants and get up off the floor. I wipe my mouth clear of cum-drool with my sleeve. I pluck a few tissues out of a box and wipe the sweat off my face. I take a few deep swallows in an attempt to wash down all the cum I've just throated. I put my glasses back on and pocket Big Thick Dick's number. I know I will call him. I wouldn't mind a big Twinkie-size dick like that
stretching my throat a few days out of the week.

I spend the next several hours sucking the dicks of a few geezers, but I don't let them come in my mouth. I can't get enough. I have let about eight guys use my throat so far tonight, and it's only nine o'clock.

CASE CLOSED

K. Lynn

Joe shifted in the passenger seat of the squad car, watching the tall office buildings pass as they drove by. He counted himself lucky that their pace was actually in the normal range today, since his partner Frank tended to lean heavily on the gas pedal whether they were going to a call or just going to lunch. The one time Joe complained about it, reminding Frank that nonemergency situations didn't warrant breaking the speed limit, his partner had looked at him and said, “Kid, everything's an emergency situation, as far as I'm concerned.”

He turned to look at his partner, whose hands gripped the steering wheel tight. Despite Frank being twenty years his senior, the seasoned cop didn't look like his body had accrued the forty-five years he claimed. With firm muscles and a solid body, Frank could chase down most suspects and not even break a sweat. Frank and Joe would often challenge each other at the gym, seeing how much they could each bench-press, but Frank always won. Being young wasn't such an advantage when
your partner held the department record for weight lifting.

On the upside, Joe's youth hadn't been an issue for Frank, as he had feared. Joe had heard horror stories of young recruits getting paired up with old, burnt-out beat cops and regretting their choice to enter the Academy. But that hadn't happened with Frank. One year together and they had meshed so well that they were getting commendations for their work. It was a dream come true for Joe. He knew that this was going to be a solid foundation for him to ascend the ranks of the police force. But that was far in the future. For now, he was happy and settled with Frank.

Well, happy enough. Because as much as he loved hanging out with the man, trading stories and sharing meals, there was also a strong pull of want in Joe's gut. His partner was a walking wet dream, and Joe had spent many nights jerking off to the mental image, but he'd be damned if he'd share that bit of information with Frank. Bad enough he was gay, but lusting after his partner made it worse. He just had to keep his desires in check and it would be okay. It had worked so far.

No one on the force was out. He learned early on in his training that he should keep his mouth shut and just do his job. Joe wasn't saying the force was homophobic, but it was better to be able to trust the guys had your back than wonder if they were going to stab you in it. Frank was no exception. His partner didn't ever come out and announce he was straight, but the long line of women he left in his wake was a strong indication that he wasn't playing on Joe's side of the fence. So, Joe just kept his fantasies under wraps and pretended it was all good.

Joe had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he was slow to realize their surroundings had changed. Instead of the brushed steel exteriors of downtown, the edges of the road were dotted with rundown buildings that had long since been abandoned.
Joe recognized the area, the middle ground between the business district and the warehouse district near the docks. Not that there was any money there either, as the shipping industry had been hard hit by the recession. It seemed like the area they patrolled was growing less populated and he wondered if, before long, the city itself would be the only place that saw action.

“Where are we headed?” Joe asked, looking over to Frank.

“Warehouse down by the river,” his partner said, jutting his chin toward the windshield. “Got something that needs checking out.”

Joe tried to remember any calls that had come in for them, or any open cases that might take them outside their normal patrol area, but he was coming up empty.

“I didn't hear the radio.”

Frank laughed, glancing at him and then back to the road. “You've been so inside your head this morning, I'm surprised you heard anything.”

“I've just got a lot on my mind,” Joe said, trying to be subtle as he readjusted his position. “But I don't remember any open cases around here. And I've been with you the whole time, so what's up?”

“Just something that came through when you were grabbing us breakfast. I figured we could head by sometime and play out my hunch. It's probably nothing.” He dropped his speed a little, turning the corner. “Besides, we haven't got anything else going on, and I wanted a change of scenery.”

“You couldn't have picked a nicer area to go sightseeing?” Joe asked, wrinkling his nose as the faint odor of fish ran through the vents. “It smells like a filthy aquarium.”

“You're too damn picky, I ever tell you that?” Frank asked, but his tone made it clear he was joking. “Won't eat at the Mexican place on Fifth, don't want to go running with me in
the morning and now you're bitching about a little fish smell.”

“Funny how all those things are a threat to my general health,” he said, taking a closer look at the building they were pulling up to. It looked like someone had taken about twenty spray cans to it, angry words overlapping one another and vying for attention. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Frank just rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he took the key out of the ignition and opened his door. “Don't worry, princess. I'll protect you.”

Joe just thinned his lips, not saying another word. He followed Frank into the warehouse, staying at the ready in case he needed to pull his weapon. Joe wasn't sure if someone or something might jump out at him, and he didn't want to take any chances.

“Ease up,” Frank said, nodding down at Joe's gun. “There's nothing in here that needs that.”

“Yeah, well, I'd rather not take my chances.”

Frank shrugged. “Suit yourself. I'm going to go check out the back. Stay here and stand guard.”

Joe watched Frank walk away, then round a corner to disappear behind a row of packing crates. He turned back toward the front, looking over the mess scattered across the floor. Discarded paper cups, a bundle of rope and some bent nails were the only thing left from whatever escape the last occupants had made. If Joe had to guess, going by the fine layer of dust that coated everything, the building had stood empty for a while. He wondered what kind of hunch Frank had had that would take them out to an abandoned warehouse. Joe certainly couldn't see any kind of clues that would signal this was the key to any case.

He walked closer to the wall, checking out the pipes that ran overhead. Like the rest of the place, they were dirty, and Joe
could see a bit of rust on certain spots. He tapped at the one closest to him, coughing as a layer of dust filtered down on his head. Joe wished Frank would hurry up so they could get out of here.

Hearing a noise over his left shoulder, he started to turn around, but was caught from behind and had his arms pinned to the side. Joe fought against his attacker, kicking out and trying to free himself, but the grip just got tighter.

“Let me go. I'm a cop,” he said, twisting his body to no avail.

“Shh,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Calm down.”

Joe recognized that voice, since he heard it beside him every day. The fight left his body. “Frank? What the hell are you doing?”

“You'll see,” Frank said, loosening his hold on Joe and stepping back.

Joe turned around, taking in the sight of his partner. Frank's posture was stiff, tension evident in his muscles. “What's going on?”

“Strip,” Frank said, his voice even.

Joe gave a laugh. “What? Frank, we don't have time for jokes today.” He started to move, but Frank blocked his way and grabbed hold of Joe's arms, pressing his fingers into the younger man's flesh.

“I said strip,” he said again. His expression had grown cold, no hint of the happy guy that had been there just five minutes before. Frank released his grip on Joe and stepped back. “Don't make me ask again.”

Joe could tell his partner wasn't joking. He stood still for a moment, just watching this man who he thought he knew. With an unsteady hand, he reached up to the top button on his shirt and started undoing it, working his way down until he was at his waistband.

“While I appreciate the slow striptease, I'd advise you to work faster,” Frank said. “Or else you're going to start making me angry.”

Joe took the hint and quickened his actions. He pulled his shirt out of his waistband, unbuttoning the last two buttons and discarding the outer garment on the dusty floor. He grabbed the edges of his white T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, tossing it to the side as well.

“Looking good,” Frank said, nodding. If Joe wasn't mistaken, he could see a hint of lust in the older man's eyes. What the hell was going on? “Now the rest.”

Joe bent over and unlaced his shoes, then stood up and toed them both off. Next he unfastened his buckle and pants, the weight of his duty belt threatening to pull down the material on its own. He pushed everything down his legs, then stepped out of it so that he was just standing there in his socks and boxer shorts. The air was slightly cool without anything to cover him and he could feel goose bumps starting to rise on his arms.

Frank reached back with one hand, pulling his handcuffs off his belt. “Turn around and put your hands up. Thread these over the pipe to lock yourself in.”

“Seriously, Joe, this is going too far,” he said, trying to buy himself some time. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he got the feeling he wasn't going to like it.

“Take them and do as I said,” Frank said, shaking the cuffs at him.

Joe reached out, flinching as his hot skin touched the cool metal. He turned to look at the wall, the only view he was going to have until this was over. Joe locked the cuff around his left wrist, then brought both his hands up so they were touching the pipe. He had to stretch in order to grab the cuff with his right hand, then work it so that he could lock it with his left. Once
he was done, he let his body relax down, grunting as the edge of the metal dug into the bottom of his palms. He had no time to concentrate on that, though, as he felt Frank come up behind him, crowding against his back and pressing his crotch against Joe's ass.

“You thought your secret was safe, huh?” Frank asked, leaning to whisper in Joe's ear. “But you forget, I'm a damn fine cop. I could sniff you out the first time I saw you. Lusting after me, probably thinking about me so you can get hard every night.” Frank pushed up against him, reaching around to cup Joe's half-hard cock. “Look at you, already begging for it. All your dreams coming true.”

“Frank, please,” Joe moaned as Frank squeezed at his cock. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can,” Frank said, trailing his hand up to the waistband of Joe's boxers. “And because you want it.”

“I'm sorry,” Joe said, his voice cracking. “I didn't mean to. And I've got a handle on it, I promise.”

Frank stilled his hand where it was playing along the line where Joe's skin met elastic. “You think I'm mad about this?” He whispered in Joe's ear once again. “I'm not mad. I'm ecstatic.”

Joe froze at the admission. What? This made no sense. Frank was straight. Wasn't he? “You are?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“Of course I am. Why should I risk my neck finding some fine piece of ass every few weeks when I have you ready to give it up whenever I want?” He stepped back and grabbed Joe's boxers, yanking them down so that they pooled at his feet. “I'll just have to teach you the error of your ways.”

Joe couldn't speak; he really couldn't deny what Frank was saying. His partner was a lot more observant than Joe had given him credit for. But what did he expect? He stood still, just
listening to the sounds coming from behind him. Joe could hear Frank fumbling, his duty belt clanging as he moved. He heard a snap, then a clatter as Frank threw something on the floor.