Another Nick and Noah

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but you proceed at your own risk.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me -- all emails will be answered to the best of my ability. iainlthr@hotmail.com.

Another Nick and Noah

Chapter 7

Frank and Patrick were still sitting around, and giving no signs of moving, when Nick and Noah found them again after their conversation with Detective Moran. After the way Patrick had reacted to seeing the boys in their leather bike gear yesterday, both were reluctant to repeat that experience.

"Patrick, I hope you don't think we're using you as some kind of hotel," Noah began cautiously, "but we thought we'd go into the city tonight, and stay with some friends, if that's okay? We don't want you to think we're deserting you."

`No, that's fine," Patrick answered. "We're going down to Portsea anyway, and probably won't be home tonight either."

"You feeling up to going out already?" Nick asked with surprise.

"Of course," the younger man answered with a wry grin. "It's Friday night! You can't sit around at home on a Friday night."

"He'll be fine," Frank added. "We both need a bit of a lift, so a little partying will do us good."

"Okay then, if you're happy with that," Noah said. "We're riding into the City. We'll leave here about 4.30." he was trying to prepare them for himself and Nick appearing in the bike leathers again.

"No problems," Patrick acknowledged nonchalantly.

Fortunately, Frank picked up on what Noah was saying. "We might even go out for a late lunch -- there's a nice restaurant up in Dromana," he said smoothly.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," said Patrick.

Noah breathed a sigh of relief, silently nodding to Frank in thanks.

Soon after the two younger men had gone, Nick and Noah readied themselves for their night with Nightstick and Punk. Noah picked up a backpack, looking at it in confusion.

"What's that for?" Nick asked.

"Um, I suppose we should take some street clothes," Noah explained. "Otherwise, the only things we'll have are the riding leathers."

"Somehow, I doubt we'll need anything else," Nick chuckled evilly. "In fact, with any luck, we won't even need them, except to get there and get back!"

Noah smiled with lusty anticipation. "Even so, I think we should throw in some street clothes to be on the safe side. Do you remember how to get to Bob's home?"

Nick thought for a moment. "I could probably find it, although I wasn't taking that much notice, since David knew exactly where he was going."

"I have the address anyway. Here, program it into that Navman, and you take the lead. I'll follow close behind, but keep an eye out for me, especially when we get into the City."

Just before 4.30 that afternoon, the two mounted their Harleys and kicked them over. Yet again, the feel of the leathers on his body and the sound of the roaring motor, combined with the throbbing bike between his legs and the anticipation of the coming evening, had Noah's erection straining at his groin. He glanced at his mate, and instantly knew Nick felt the same way. With a `thumbs-up' sign, they set off together, riding side by side down from the property and onto the Mornington Peninsula Freeway as they headed north.

Noah had felt confident enough about finding their way into the city, but was still grateful for Nick having the GPS navigation guide, particularly when the freeway became the Moorooduc Highway, and even more so when the `highway' shrank to a single carriageway. He felt more at ease when that road led onto the Frankston Freeway, and the pair pushed up their speed once more, but before too long, Nick was slowing and taking an off-ramp, turning right onto Thompson's Road. Noah was confused now. He remembered the trips before, with Wes and with David, had not been all freeway conditions, but being by themselves made him concentrate so much more on where they were going. He shrugged, and assumed Nick was following the pre-programmed directions of the sat-nav.

They swung left onto Dandenong Road, the surroundings still looking decidedly rural, but then the road led directly into the South Gippsland Freeway, and Noah relaxed again. Through the interchange with the Monash Freeway, and now they were heading west and north into the city at speed, the bikes humming and the wind whistling by them. Noah settled back and enjoyed the ride. In through the suburbs they raced, the traffic growing heavier and the high rise of downtown Melbourne rising up to meet them. Not too far from the city centre, Nick led them off on the Yarra Boulevard exit, swinging around to the right and back over the freeway, before turning left into the close streets.

It all looked different in the daylight, and Noah realised that without their guide, they would never have found their way back to Bob and Peter's home. He ducked and weaved as Nick turned right, then left, then right again, making his way through Richmond. Finally, just on 6.00, they turned into a tiny street, and Noah recognised the building with the heavy steel door, where they had come just under a week ago. With a guttural roar, the bikes slowed and fell silent as Nick and Noah dismounted, parking their steeds almost at the door itself.

When Bob Moran opened the door, he stopped, staring at the sight before him, and let out a long whistle. "Holy fuck!" he said at last, to the two black leather visions before him, one tall and lithe, the other short but powerful. He looked past them for a moment, seeing the Harley Davidsons. "Nice!" His eyes returned to the bodies in front of him, travelling slowly but appreciatively up and down each.

"Are you going to ask us in?" Nick said at last, lifting his helmet off.

"Nope. I'm just gonna make you stand there while I enjoy the view."

Noah laughed, removing his headgear. With the helmet in one hand, he ran his other tantalisingly down his abdomen and pointedly grabbed at his own cock through the leather. "This the view you're after?" he hissed. "Maybe it would look better framed in a pair of chaps ..."

The lusty detective chuckled, now stepping back to admit his friends into the house. As they seated themselves in the living room, he continued to marvel at their clothing. "You guys look so hot in that! And riding around on Harleys? Now that's living! I don't know how I'm going to be able to concentrate on the `business' side of things at all ..."

Noah looked concerned. "Do you want us to change?" he asked. "We brought some street clothes."

"No, not at all," Bob answered. "I'm just getting ahead of myself. Stay as you are. It certainly should be one of the more enjoyable interviews I've ever done! Peter won't be home until about 7.30, and we don't play around without each other, so nothing's gonna happen until he gets here anyway."

The three friends grinned like school kids, both Nick and Noah feeling complimented with Bob's reaction. But they did their best to put the anticipation of what was to come later aside, as they settled down to discuss the issue of the unsolved murder which had brought them together.

Nick relaxed into the lounge, a drink in one hand, and let Noah take the lead in recounting their theories to the cop.

"As far as we have been able to work out," Noah began, "there are four real possible suspects."

"Oh, and who are they?" asked the detective, opening a writing pad and readying himself to take notes.

"First one is a guy by the name of Terry Michaels. We're a bit hazy on the details here, but apparently he owed Wes quite a bit of money. Wes had loaned it to him some time back to cover debts from illegal casinos. When Wes started asking for the money back, and refusing to give him any more, he started making threats. He's been to the house several times, and on at least one occasion, he threatened blackmail -- told Wes he would `out' him -- if he didn't do what Michaels wanted. Wes laughed him off. We don't know what the relationship was between them -- Patrick, Wes' nephew, seems to think they may have been lovers, or at least fuck-buddies, at one time. We guess that his motive would be not having to repay whatever money Wes lent him."

Bob Moran smiled, a mirthless grimace of a smile. "I knew about Michaels," he said quietly. "Patrick mentioned him in our first interview the day after the murder. But we can rule him out as a suspect."

"Already?" Nick asked in surprise.

"Yeah. Wes was killed on the Sunday night, but Terry Michaels committed suicide the day before. An overdose of sleeping pills. He left no note or anything, but it seems he owed a lot of money to a lot of people, not just Wes Arrows-Smith." The detective shook his head.

"I'm glad Wes didn't know that," Nick said sadly. "He might have tried to blame himself."

"So who else do you have?" Bob asked Noah.

"You probably know about this one as well," he replied. "Patrick would have told you about the neighbour, Petersen?"

Bob nodded.

Noah continued. "All we know about motive is that he claims Wes was standing in the way of some kind of property deal which was supposed to make both of them a lot of money. He'd been to the house arguing with Wes a few times. He showed up again the day before the funeral, demanding to see Patrick. He assumed Patrick was Wes' Executor, and wanted to talk to him about this `great deal'. Patrick wasn't there at the time, but that didn't stop Petersen from launching a spiel at us about how Wes was too stupid to see what was being offered, and how he was sure that Patrick would be far more sensible and far more ready to talk business. In the middle of all of that he managed to make a few homophobic comments. It seems to us that he had the motive -- getting rid of Wes to make this deal go easier, as well as a bit of anti-gay hatred to spark it."

Detective Moran smiled. "You're right, Patrick did tell me about him. And I agree with your assessment, although I didn't know about the visit before the funeral. I'm still looking into him as a possible killer. His motive is there alright, and he doesn't have an alibi for that Sunday night. Living so close, he could easily walk into the house without being seen by anyone else, and he could also tell fairly easily if there were anyone else at home."

"Then there's the ex-lover!" Nick declared. "I think he's the most likely one."

"Michael's? But he couldn't have ..." the cop began.

"No, not Michaels, he was just a one-time thing, if at all. Wes's lover, Phillip. They broke up a little while ago," Nick explained.

"Oh, I see," said Moran thoughtfully. "I haven't heard of this one at all."

Noah began to explain the story, that after several years together, Wes and Phillip had separated, at Wes' instigation. He recounted both David and Patrick's information of Phillip's bitterness, and his attempts to get Wes to see him again which had been in vain. He repeated Wes' comments that Wes had caught Phillip cheating, and that Phillip had been angry and threatening. He also relayed what David had told them about how Phillip believed he deserved better than the way he had been treated by Wes, and the fact that he refused to come to the funeral, or to forgive Wes for what had happened.

Nick jumped in again now, convinced Philip was the guilty one. "So you see, he had the oldest motive in the world -- jilted love, and jealousy. I think he got so angry, felt so betrayed, that he realised they were never going to reunite, and he went around to the house that night and killed Wes. It would explain why nothing was taken, and it would also explain why there was no sign of a fight, or a break-in!"

"Well, we know there was no need for whoever did it to break in. The house was unlocked. But I'll certainly look into this development. Do you have his full name and address?"

Noah nodded and the cop scribbled them down, thinking hard.

"You said there were four suspects?" Bob asked again, looking to Noah.

"Yes, and my personal opinion is that the final one is the most likely," Noah said.

"And that is?"

"Wes' nephew."

"Patrick?"

"No, his other nephew, Sean." Noah looked at the surprise on Bob's face, and went on quickly. "Patrick has a brother -- they are identical twins. Sean showed up at the wake. He came up to see Patrick and the two of them argued. We couldn't hear what was said, but we could see them, and it was a very heated argument indeed. So much so that Sean slammed a glass down on a table with enough force to smash it, and stormed out. When we asked Patrick afterwards, apparently Sean told him that he had waited all this time, and now wanted to make sure he got his share of Wes' estate. Patrick tells us that Sean hated both himself and Wes, and that they had had nothing to do with each other for years. I got the impression that Sean's feelings towards them come from his not being able to accept that his brother is gay."

As Noah finished with that last comment, Bob looked up in amazement, letting out a gasp. "What?" he said in disbelief.

"We think Sean couldn't handle the fact that his twin brother was gay," Nick said. "And when that twin went to live with their gay uncle, it was all too much. Noah thinks Sean killed the uncle out of a mixture of emotion over the whole gay issue, and greed because he wanted to get his hands on a share of the money."

"Did Patrick tell you Sean hated him because he was gay?" Bob asked carefully.

Noah looked uncertainly at the cop. "You don't seem so surprised, that there is a twin," he observed.

Bob sighed, rubbing his face. "No, I'm not. I knew about the twin brother. I was a bit surprised you knew about him, although I didn't know he went to the funeral. But this is important guys, please think about it before you answer -- did Patrick tell you Sean hated him because Patrick was gay?"

Both men stopped, trying to remember the day of the wake, the argument between the brothers, and Patrick's explanation afterwards. Everyone had been in shock, both at the argument itself, and the sudden appearance of an unknown twin. Eventually, it was Noah who spoke up.

"As I remember it, he didn't actually say those words. He said that Sean didn't want Wes to take Patrick in at the time. He didn't really elaborate on that, except to say that Sean made some awful comments about the reasons for Patrick moving in, and that Wes ordered Sean out of the house and told him never to come back. Patrick just said that Sean hated both Patrick and Wes. I think Nick made some comment about Sean being homophobic, and Patrick just ignored it, or let it slide. He was pretty upset at the time, and we didn't push him any more about it."

"How did you know about Sean?" Nick asked. "David was an old friend of Wes, and even he didn't know Sean existed."

Bob laughed, but it was a sarcastic kind of laugh. "Sean Feldman!" he said at last. "Sean very nearly led to me being dropped from this case."

"What?" exclaimed Nick.

"Why?" Noah asked, curious now.

"You may not remember, but when Patrick arrived home that night, the night of the murder, I was amazed when I first saw him."

"I do recall you being a bit taken aback," Noah said. "I wondered why then, but you seemed to get over it fairly quickly."

"Yes, well when Patrick walked into the room, for a second I thought it was Sean. They look so alike. I know Sean, and for your benefit Noah, I can assure you he isn't the murderer."

"But surely, just because you know Sean doesn't exclude you from investigating his uncle's murder?" Nick reasoned.

"No, but you were right in thinking that, for a few hours at least, he was a suspect -- until I could confirm that he was nowhere near the house that night. Only then could I continue."

"I don't understand," Noah questioned. "Just because Sean was known to you, even if he was a suspect, doesn't exclude you, does it?"

Bob laughed again, this time with more mirth. "Noah, I know Sean Feldman in the same sense that I know you! Or to be even more specific, in the same way that I know Nick. His Master' name is Rammer', and we share each other's `boys' quite often. Last weekend, when you guys all came here, do you remember we told you that our regular play partners had gone out of town?"

Both Nick and Noah nodded.

"That couple, probably our best friends, are Rammer' and Cumslut', or Sean and Will, in polite company."

Noah sat silently, lost for words. Nick sputtered a second. "But why would Patrick tell us he was homophobic?" he asked.

"He didn't, did he?" Bob reminded him. "You suggested Sean was anti-gay, and Patrick let you assume it. That's why I wanted you to be so careful in remembering what Patrick said. If Patrick had lied outright, I would have been very curious as to why, but he didn't. And I do know that Sean and Patrick dislike each other intently. I asked him about it as soon as I could -- like I said, I needed to be sure he wasn't a real suspect."

"So he has an alibi, then?" Noah asked, still trying to grasp this new revelation.

"Oh yeah! On the night of the murder, he was at a `party' from 9.00 pm until well after 4.00 in the morning, down in Geelong. There are over 20 people who can attest to it, and I checked with several of them, much as it hurt to do it, since it felt like I was doubting my friend's word."

"Then what was the argument about at the funeral? For that matter, why did he even bother to come to the funeral, if he hated Patrick and Wes so much?"

"I don't know the answer to that. I haven't seen him since the funeral, and I didn't know he was going, but maybe you can ask him yourself."

"Come again?" Noah looked truly stunned this time.

"This is one of those rare occasions when business and pleasure start to mix, and I don't really like it," Bob sighed, then grinned evilly. "If you guys are up for it, Peter and I were planning to take you along to a party' tonight -- the same kind of party Sean was at the night his uncle was killed. Perhaps the better term is orgy', since that's what it is. We know a few people who like to arrange a regular group session in a smallish warehouse over in the docklands near Port Melbourne. They rent this place permanently, and it's fitted out with slings and benches, St Andrews crosses and all kinds of toys. The place is amazing, and everyone who goes chips in some money to help cover the costs. Once inside, it's basically a free-for-all leather orgy. Everyone there is invited by someone who has been before, so it's very much a private affair, but on a good night they can get as many as forty guys in the place."

Nick's excitement had risen quickly as Bob spoke, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he chuckled now. "Sounds fucking hot to me," he exclaimed.

"And Sean and Will are going along tonight as well," Bob finished. "We spoke to them yesterday about it. And I am totally convinced he had no part in his uncle's death."

Noah sat thoughtfully, the perplexed look on his face slowly giving way to one of acceptance. "Well, if you're convinced, then I'll accept it," he said. "So we only have two suspects then."

"There is another suspect," the detective corrected him, "But I wouldn't have expected you to have heard of her."

"Her?" asked Nick in surprise.

"Yes, a Sarah McInness. She is one of the directors of Wes Arrows-Smith's main holding company. There has been quite a lot of animosity between the two of them for some time now, with Wes fighting her at every turn. She wants to do a lot of re-organisation within the company, which will mean increasing profits, but also requires almost a hundred employees to be dismissed. Wes wouldn't agree with it, and since he has controlling vote, she's been prevented from doing it. From what I've been able to find out, the arguments have degenerated into slanging matches, and this woman had abused and threatened Wes several times in front of staff and other directors. He even had her forcibly removed from his office by security personnel once, so she certainly has the motive for wanting him out of the picture."

"Uhh, we don't know anything of Wes' business interests," Noah muttered.

"No, I realise that. But I think you deserve to be kept in the picture on all possibilities, especially since you've been so open with me," Bob said.

"Thanks, Bob, we appreciate it," Noah said seriously. From the corner of his eye he spotted Nick, still squirming in the bike leathers, his partial erection plainly visible. Noah felt his own stirring, and he was certain the cop was still enjoying the view of both of them in the shining, skin-tight black suits. He let his own stare travel over the business-suited but powerful body of the detective, licking his lips. "And this orgy sounds like the perfect way to end the week," he added huskily. "Nick and I have been in leather for the last two days ..." he indicated their bike gear, "but not the kind we really like. I was hoping to change that tonight!"

"Oh yeah!" the detective said, excitement filling his voice now as well. "Trojan, Viking, help yourself," he said, pulling open the door to the closet where all of their leather gear was stored. "'Punk' should be home any moment. I'm going upstairs to put all of this police work away, and then I'll be down to get changed as well!"

When Peter let himself into the house, he found his Master Nightstick, Master Trojan, and fellow slave Viking, sitting there waiting for him, all bedecked in fantastic, skin-tight polished leather.

"Now this is a welcome worth coming home to!" he declared with a grin. "And those bikes out front -- are they yours?"

Nick nodded happily. "For the time being they are, Punk," he replied.

"Fantastic! Did Bo ... err, did Master Nightstick ask you about tonight?"

"I think he mentioned a little `get together' with some friends," Noah said off-handedly. "Something about a party in Port Melbourne?"

"Umm, I think it's a bit more ..." the man started, but Nick interrupted him with a laugh.

"A full on leather orgy with maybe 30 other men? You can't possibly think we'd turn that down?" he chuckled.

Peter grinned from ear to ear. "Give me 5 minutes, and Peter' will be Punk'. But the `party' won't get started for another hour -- what are we going to do until then?"

"I'm sure we can think of something," Nightstick assured him. "Just go and get ready for tonight, boy."

"Yes, Sir!" he said enthusiastically.

Within minutes the business-suited Peter had transformed into the leather clad Punk, eagerly rejoining the group, his anticipation evident at his groin. Nightstick cast an appraising eye over his `boy' and nodded his approval before leading him and the other couple into their play-space.

The large room was just as Nick and Noah remembered it, dark and quiet, but filled with a sense of warm, waiting excitement. It was as though the very walls welcomed them into a world of fantasy and lusty arousal, hidden away from reality outside. Candles flickered in several places where Bob had lit them earlier whilst they waited for his partner to change.

Nightstick took control immediately. The anticipation of the planned orgy ahead, and the waiting all afternoon for his friends to arrive, had left him aroused and keen to play. Being able to forget about the harsh world in which he lived and worked, to immerse himself in the fantasy of masculine leather and hard fucking, also made this dark play area an inviting and wonderful release.

"Viking, Punk, over here!" he ordered, taking up a stance of dominating power, his arms crossed and his legs spread wide, the leather encasing his body glimmering and rippling with the tensing of his muscles. The Master indicated the wide double slave bench beside where he stood, and both bottoms hurriedly moved toward it.

Nick grinned. He too could feel the urgency of anticipated need, delighted at the growing tumescence at his groin and the sight of the two leathered bois jumping to obey. He turned quickly to the shelves along one wall and grabbed a toy -- a double ended dildo of black latex, very long. The thing was almost a metre in length, and none too thin either, complete with fake cockhead and ridge at either end, and artificial veins raised and twisting along it.

As the two subs approached the bench, Nightstick nodded to his colleague, smiling at the sight of the double ended dildo. He pushed each of the slaves forward in turn, getting them to straddle the upholstered shelf, facing away from each other with their arses no more than 30 or 40 centimetres apart. Trojan moved to help now, and the two Masters quickly shackled Viking and Punk by wrists and ankles to the rings set into the equipment for that very purpose. In this position, the subs lay along the bench, face down, their chins level with each end of the leathered platform. Whilst they were restrained and unable to get up, they could still slide back and forth, rubbing themselves against the dark hide, quickly becoming slick with the juice of their own pre-cum.

Trojan and Nightstick stood and surveyed their handiwork, facing each other from opposite sides of the bench, both at the mid-point between Viking and Punk. Grinning evilly, Nightstick lifted the double headed dong once again. His fellow Dom smiled lustily and licked his lips as he scooped a large handful of creamy lubricant from a container nearby. Almost lovingly, the Masters greased their toy from end to end, paying close attention to the oversized flaring cockheads at either extremity. The dildo was flexible yet more than firm enough for its purpose, thick and black and now glistening in the orange glow of the candlelight as Master Nightstick lay it across the opposing arses of the slaves.

"You ready for this, boy?" Trojan asked of neither in particular.

"Yes, Sir!" the two leather clad men shackled to the bench chorused.

Trojan chuckled lustily, taking one end of the latex prong and nudging it against the puckering hole of Punk. As he did so, Nightstick replicated his movements, pressing the other tapering black phallus into Viking's spread arse crack and holding it against the winking target of his anus.

With a nod at each other, the Masters simultaneously began to feed the solid, rounded heads of the dildo into the waiting slave arses beneath them. Flared artificial glans prised open resisting sphincters and forced their way through rings of muscle which initially fought the penetration, then opened to welcome the invading length of latex.

"Fuck, yeah, ..." gasped Punk.

"Oh yes, Sir, fill me up!" hissed Viking.

Master Nightstick grunted in approval. "Take that cock, boys," he demanded as he and Trojan thrust the remaining shaft down and into their writhing slaves.

As the flexible toy straightened out, Nightstick stood back and admired his handiwork. As if responding to some unspoken command, the two subs began to slide as far as their restraints would allow, backing into each other and driving the dark rubber schlong deeper into themselves, until their opened arseholes were only centimetres apart, connected by a single, solid shaft of veiny black thickness.

Nick mumbled a wordless approval as he stared at the joined subs, gleaming black leather and glowing white flesh forming a single, groaning entity, attached at the arse by the long toy. Standing between them, and over them, his mate Nightstick was the epitome of powerful leather, his muscled legs encased in gleaming hide, his defined torso crossed with black straps and harnessed in polished chrome. He felt his dick straining hard against the pouch of leather he wore at his groin, and allowed himself the delight of reaching out and running his fingers slowly down Nightstick's abs and along the outlined tube of masculinity tightly held in place by the other man's codpiece.

His colleague looked up and whistled. "Fuck, Trojan, you look hot tonight!" he declared, whistling.

Nick responded with a nod of thanks, and let his hand fall away from Nightstick's cock, to grasp instead the short length of dildo still visible between the two groaning slave between them. Twisting the rubber around, and moving it from side to side, or lifting it a little before pushing downward, he elicited a symphony of moans and calls from the slaves he was teasing, as each of them begged for more and slithered along the bench, struggling against their shackles as they sought to impale themselves further onto the solid mass connecting them.

Watching excitedly as Trojan played with their subs, Nightstick found some inspiration. Backing away from the trio, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs and a length of silver chain from some shelves in the dungeon, and approached the slaves again. Quickly, as the other Master looked on in growing understanding, he clasped one wristlet from the cuffs around the girth of the dildo, closed the other shackle and fed the chain through it, taking one end for himself and handing the other to Trojan. Now the two dominant men could, by pulling at the chain, move the artificial prong lodged within the bodies of the subs, and ignite yet another round of gasping moans each time they did.

He raised an eyebrow in question at his friend, and Trojan responded by inclining his head toward Viking's end of the bench. Nightstick nodded and the two men moved to position themselves at either end of the bench, still holding and tugging at the chain. Once in place, Nightstick ripped away the leather pouch covering his manhood. He held the chrome links in his left hand, and with his right he grasped the leather hood covering Viking's face, lifting it up. The slave's mouth opened involuntarily, and the Master fed his mighty, throbbing rod of flesh into that waiting cavity, sinking the full length of himself deep into the wet heat of the sub's gullet.

Noah had been aching with pleasure as he lay prone on the padded bench, his wrists and ankles locked in place, his steel hard cock leaking pre-seminal oozings which simply increased the sensations as he slid along the supporting rail, back and forth. The thick shaft of the double prong filled him, scraping over his prostate regularly and riding in and out of his bowel with every movement he or Punk made. When his Masters began to lift and press at the rubber, it caused the head of the cock lodged in his belly to move around, imparting a new world of electrifying sensations into his innards and flooding him with lusty joy. He knew that the other end of the thing was sunk into his fellow sub, and somehow the knowledge that Punk was attached to him, was experiencing precisely the same sensations he was, made it even more arousing and exciting.

When he felt Master Nightstick lift his head up, he knew what was coming. The sight of that massive prick, waving in his face, droplets of silver manjuice leaking from its eye, made Viking tremble with anticipation. His mouth opened wide, but just as the monster cock thrust forward, the slave felt the dildo in his arse yanked upward causing him to clench involuntarily. The result was that as the long tube of muscle and flesh was forced into his throat, he choked on it, struggling for air. Instantly it was withdrawn, and Bob's concerned voice was quiet in his ear.

"Noah? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Sir," he answered softly. "Just took me by surprise. I'm sorry!"

"Are you sure?"

The slave's voice firmed again, and he begged more loudly now. "Yes, Master Nightstick! Feed me that cock please Sir. I want it now!"

"Good boy, Viking!" the dominant man hissed approvingly.

This time Viking was ready, and as the hot pole of satiny flesh lunged at his face, he held his gag reflex and swallowed it all, his teeth tracing along the veiny shaft as his lips locked around Nightstick's trunk and he suctioned at the log which began to piston in and out of him.

After his first assault, Bob tried to take things a little more easy with Viking when he began to fuck his face again, but there was no doubting the eagerness of the slave's sucking and swallowing, and as murmurs of delight escaped the face into which he thrust himself, Master Nightstick resumed his eager pounding, his cock sinking completely into Viking's neck, his balls slapping against the slave's chin as he fucked eagerly at that leathered head while he happily played with the dildo ravaged arse.

Looking up, Nightstick could see that Master Trojan was doing the same with Punk -- slamming his cock into the sub's mouth as he pulled at the chain which manipulated the toy protruding from and connecting the two men between them. Watching his fellow Master spurred him on, and knowing that Trojan was watching him, made him even more aroused. For a long time, the two Masters fucked and yanked at their willing subs, building up their own excitement and pushing each other to higher kevels of enjoyment.

It was Nick who brought this connection to an end. He could feel himself getting close to his peak, and didn't want to explode too early, he figured there was a long night ahead of them, with plenty of time for climax -- hopefully several -- and he intended to share them around at the `party' they were going to. Reluctantly, he wrenched himself from Punk's glorious orifice, and allowed the chain to slacken in his hand.

"Nightstick," he hissed at his mate. "I think we can get a little more `creative' than this ..."

"Oh yeah?" came the answer in lusty tones. "What do you have in mind, Trojan?"

Replying with only a wink, Trojan moved to unlock the bindings on Punk's wrists and ankles. Master Nightstick followed suit, releasing Viking, curious to see what his colleague was up to.

As the two subs were freed from their restraints, Master Trojan grasped the greasy prong and slid it noisily from first Punk and then Viking with a wet slurp. Examining the toy first with a smile, and then each of the slaves, he indicated an adjacent platform with a nod of his head.

"Get onto that, boy!" he ordered. "Punk, on your back! Viking, kneel over him!"

The area Trojan pointed to was no more than a large raised square, about three metres to a side and a metre above the floor. It was padded with some kind of cushioning material and then covered in what appeared to be black leather. As the hide-bound subs moved toward it, the Master stepped up onto it as well, pointing to where he wanted Punk to lie on his back. With the slave in position, Trojan knelt over him, his testicles dangling on the other's face.

"Come on, Viking, kneel over him, I said," he barked. "Now suck my cock! Punk, you can work on my nuts -- I want `em licked and wet!"

Quickly, the two subs fell to their assigned tasks. Viking eagerly suckled and slurped at the waving sword of manflesh presented to him, his knees on either side of Punk's hips, their cocks mashed together and stimulated by every movement either of them made. Punk licked and swallowed the low hanging balls draped over his head, his nose buried in the crack of Trojan's arse as he breathed deeply, aroused even further by the musky man-scent of the Master he serviced.

Master Nightstick had watched the trio take their place with interest. As the two began to service Trojan, he felt his own erection growing again. From where he stood both Viking and Punk were presenting their arses as inviting pink targets, already greased and obviously in need of filling. He climbed onto the platform behind the two, facing Trojan, then knelt and reached for the double-headed prong his fellow Dom still held.

"I think I can find another use for that," he muttered to his friend with a grin.

Master Trojan chuckled back. Using some of the residual lubricant still coating the shaft of the rubber, Nightstick smeared his own sword with one hand, grasping the plaything in the other. He moved in closer and aimed his prick at the entrance to Punk's arse while he nudged one end of the dildo into Viking's anus. With a grunting effort, Nightstick slammed himself into the bottom slave and at the same time shoved the artificial prong hard and deep, upwards into the other sub's bowel.

"Unnnhh ..." mumbled his partner around the fleshy orbs filling his mouth.

"Arrgghh!" hissed Viking, momentarily distracted from his attention to his man's meat.

Trojan permitted Viking only a second before he roughly clasped his hands around the hooded leather head, and forced it back down onto his slimy prick. Nightstick gave no quarter to either as he began to pump himself and the long rubber prong into the two subs simultaneously. A chorus of hisses and groans, mumbled obscenities and gasping breaths engulfed the four as they humped, fucked, sucked and licked at each other greedily.

Both subs tingled with delight as they worked to obey their Masters, Punk sucking at the rolling nuts of Master Trojan whilst his arse was pounded by his man's scalding poker of cock. Viking writhed around the invading tube of black latex wielded by Nightstick as he swallowed Nick's throbbing prick eagerly, suctioning on his mate while all the time his own prick slid back and forth against his fellow slave's slimy manhood.

Aroused intensely by the sight of the two men eagerly working on Trojan's genitalia, Nightstick threw himself into the act of fucking their leathered, sweaty bodies. After some time fucking his partner and shoving the large toy into Viking, he changed position slightly, reversing the mix, so that his thick, glistening cock now disappeared into the hungry hole of Noah's rectum, and Peter's arse felt the assault of the double headed dildo.

For easily an hour, the four men became as one, a heaving knot of muscle and leather. The sound of their heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin filled the dungeon as they fucked hard and fast, pounding and cursing with growing ecstasy. With his turgid weapon buried deeply in one or other of the subs, Nightstick felt his peak approaching, and although he tried to slow himself, he knew he could not continue for much longer without exploding. Reluctantly, he whipped his rod out of the glorious wet heat of Punk's chute, and this time instead of swapping it for Viking's hole, he took the other end of the dildo, bending it around, and inserting it into his boy.

Able to relax a little, he sat back on his haunches, tweaking the toy by holding it in the centre of the shaft and using it to fuck both slaves at once. Each time either of them responded, it sent more movement and pleasure into the other. Trojan looked down and smiled in appreciation.

As Nightstick watched Trojan being serviced by the two slaves, he was tempted to forget the party and simply stay at home with these incredibly hot men. But he had promised them an orgy, and he suspected they may be disappointed if they missed out. Slipping out of the dungeon to check the time without them noticing, he found it was almost 9.00 pm already. He returned to the musky, man-scented arena of leather, and in a commanding voice, ordered Punk to move away from Trojan's body.

The slave reluctantly obeyed. "You too, Viking!" he said firmly, removing the toy from each of the slaves with little gentleness. "Trojan, if we're going to take these pussies to this orgy, we should be moving soon, my friend!"

Nick looked up sharply, his concentration shifting to the other Master. "Oh, yeah, I'd lost track of the time, Nightstick. You're right, we don't want to miss a chance to share them around."

"Do we have to go far, sir?" Noah ventured, suddenly wondering how they were to get to the warehouse where the orgy was to take place.

Before Bob could answer, Peter spoke up. "If I may be so bold, Master," he began. Three sets of eyes turned to him. "Umm, Master Trojan and Viking have the most fantastic bikes right outside the door. It would be an incredible high to ride over there, in our gear, and roll up on those machines!"

Nick was quick to answer. "Fuck, yes!" he said eagerly.

Noah looked less sure of the idea, and turned to the other Master.

Nightstick stood, thoughtful for some time before he spoke. "Guys, let me slip out of character for a moment. I'm a cop, so I need to be a bit discreet about what I do, especially in public. Riding through the city on a Harley Davidson, in chaps and harness, with three fucking hot men all dressed similarly, en route to a leathermen's orgy, could be kinda hard to explain to my superiors ..."

"I understand," Noah sympathised.

"Yeah, me too. I wasn't thinking ..." Nick began, while Peter simply looked very disappointed. But before any of them could say anything else, Bob went on.

"Having said that ..." A massive grin began to form on his face, and his eyes positively sparkled with excited anticipation. "It would also be one of the hottest, most exciting, and daring things I could imagine! If we stick to back streets, stay off the freeway and main roads, it'll take a bit longer, but I'm prepared to take the risk if you are?"

Nick practically jumped with joy, and Punk's face lit up instantly. Noah's smile, slow to start, soon split his visage as his cock swelled to full proportions.

"Okay, Sir, let's do it," he laughed.

"Okay! All we need to take is some amyl. They have more than enough toys and everything else there. I'll sort out some money for them with one of the guys who organises things later," Bob said, becoming Nightstick once more. "Trojan, I think these two need to make the journey with butt plugs keeping their arses from closing up, don't you?"

Nick nodded evilly. "Absolutely. Their holes are gonna get some real work tonight, so we owe it to the other tops to ensure they're properly prepared."

The two masters ordered the slaves to bend at the waist. Viking and Punk both obeyed, each of them a little concerned at riding too far, plugged as they would be, but at the same time thrilled with the excitement of being treated like this in public. Black rubber stoppers were inserted into each of them, and their Masters checked the toys were firmly in place, landing a few light slaps on bare cheeks to settle them in.

Collecting what supplies they needed, Nightstick led the way out of the dungeon, cautiously checking outside, before ushering the others from the door and locking up. Without asking, Noah surrendered his bike to Bob, and climbed on the pillion behind Nick. Nightstick mounted the bike easily, and Punk slipped in behind him. There they were, two couples, garbed in shining chaps, polished boots, harnesses and jackets. Both Masters wore their cod-pieces over their genitalia, while their slaves pushed close in behind them, naked and erect pricks nudging the bare flesh of their dom's backside. In a concession to prudence, Punk and Viking removed their hoods and collars, dropping them into the panniers alongside the caps of Trojan and Nightstick, and the two masters donned the black helmets for their ride. By law, the slaves should have been wearing helmets as well, but they had none; another reason to stick to the quieter streets on their journey.

"Stick close to me," Nightstick ordered. Nick nodded understanding as they kicked the powerful metal steeds into life. With a low, throaty roar, Nightstick wheeled his way out onto the narrow street, and Trojan and Viking followed. The fastest, most direct way for them to get to their destination would have been directly west, straight through the city centre, then south to the docks, but not tonight. That route was too well lit, too popular. Instead, with his heart racing and his cock throbbing, Bob zig-zagged his way across the residential lanes of Richmond, heading south. The river presented a difficulty, and there was no alternative but to venture onto the busier main road and across the bridge onto Chapel Street, before again seeking the darkness of the back roads. To the occasional vehicle or pedestrian who looked at them, they probably appeared simply to be a pair of riders with passengers dressed in black. And for those who took a closer look, who noticed what they were actually wearing, well hopefully they would simply gawk and forget it.

Their next obstacle was crossing the busy south-eastern artery of St Kilda Road. The adrenaline pumped through Nightstick's body, his skin tingling with fear and excitement. Throwing caution to the wind, he steered himself and his companions onto Toorak Road, crossed St Kilda Road and followed the Kings Way past the north-east corner of Albert Park, cars, trucks and pedestrians all around them. As soon as he could, he turned left off the main road and into the darker streets of South Melbourne, finding some degree of anonymity once more, from there it wasn't so bad as he twisted his way west and north into the warehouse district. With a feeling of exuberation at having succeeded, he opened the throttle some more, Nick following close behind, and roared his machine along the last hundred metres, to pull up in a parking area at one side of the warehouse where they were expected.

"That was unbelievable," he hissed excitedly to his companions as they dismounted. "I don't think I've ever had a buzz quite like that! I'm on such a high, and ..." he turned to his slave, before grinning at the other two with a glint in his eye, " ... and so horny! Every bottom in this place is going to get a serious fucking tonight, and that's just from me!!!"

Nick laughed out loud, and the two slaves smiled widely. All of them shared the rush and the thrill of what they had just done. They felt so alive, it was incredible. A small group of admiring leathermen started to gather, examining their bikes, and checking them out as well. Nightstick introduced two or three acquaintances to Trojan, by their `play' names of course, and they quickly secured the bikes before making their way into the warm cavern of blackness that was their space for the night.

... to be continued ...

This story is a fantasy, it is not real and only happened in my imagination. YOU MUST REMEMBER that in the real world, you can DIE from having unsafe sex. It is your right and your duty to make sure that condoms are always used, whether you are giving or receiving. It doesn't matter how good looking or how ugly he is, and it doesn't matter whether you are top or bottom, USE A CONDOM!