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 9

Sean lowered his voice to a lusty whisper as he leaned over toward Noah. "I don't know that I'm finished with `punishing' you yet!"

That brought a round of approving murmurs from all of them, including Noah, and more than one of the men felt that familiar twitch in his groin.

"You know," said Will, "I always wanted Sean to be able to tell his story to someone else; to be able to get it off his chest. But I never expected it to be told to a group of the hottest leathermen I've ever met, lying back in a dungeon, dressed in leather like this," he grinned as he waved his arm around to encompass them.

"It's better this way," Sean said, almost to himself. "I am what I am, and I like it!"

"So do I!" stated Will, his hand sliding down Sean's abdomen to close around the long fleshy tube of his Master's cock.

As Sean hardened quickly, Will became Cumslut again, and knelt in front of his man, licking slowly along the lengthening log of flesh. The others watched for only a few seconds as each of them felt their urges rise once more. Noah was the first to move. He looked at Nick, gave him a knowing wink, then sidled over to where Rammer and Cumslut were lying.

"Are you going to keep that all for yourself, boy, or can I share?" he muttered to his colleague. "I think your Master said something about needing to punish me some more."

By way of reply, Cumslut simply grinned at the other slave and made room, so that as he suckled on Rammer's nuts, Viking swallowed the throbbing pole of the Master's masculinity deep into his throat.

"Now that's what I like!" Rammer nodded to the other Masters. "Willing, determined slaves."

"We certainly seem to have that," Nick agreed. "And very talented too, if the way Punk and Cumslut serviced me earlier is anything to go by."

His fellow top grinned again. "Mmm," he nodded thoughtfully. "I think maybe it's time that they `serviced' one another – yours and mine seem to be made to fit each other!" he winked.

The two slaves just smiled. Noah took another long look at Cumslut. The man was massive, and his gigantic cock swung easily between his legs over huge round balls. That ten inch piece of man meat was unbelievably thick from root to head, and the silver ring piercing its point was a little tarnished with cum and juices, but still sparkling in the dim light.

"Hey Trojan," Rammer murmured lustily. "You ever see an unswallowable cock meet an insatiable hole?"

The other Master laughed evilly. "Not yet, my friend, but I guess we're about to try!"

Viking's heart jumped at the words, and their meaning. He looked at his fellow sub with an appraising, needful stare, and Cumslut returned his look knowingly, that massive tree trunk growing into life again, thickening even further as it lifted itself to point at the ceiling.

"On your back, Viking!" Master Trojan ordered. "Spread those legs and show us that hungry arse of yours."

As Noah lay on the floor, his own cock springing to attention and his hole twitching, Master Rammer pushed his slave onto his knees between Viking's legs.

"Now, feed that slave meat of yours into him!" he ordered gruffly.

"Yes, Sir!" the sub responded enthusiastically, pressing forward until the hard, warm head of his cock with its cooler steel adornment was nudging Viking's winking target.

As the two subs moved together, Cumslut kneeling over Viking, all three tops gathered closely around them, hissing orders and barking commands at the slave duo.

"Fuck his arse, Cumslut!" Trojan demanded.

"Take that huge cock, pussyboy!" Rammer instructed Viking.

"Yeah, let his log fill your hole," Nightstick added. "C'mon, boy, shove that tool into his tight mancunt!" he muttered at Cumslut.

Aroused and excited by the encouragement, Cumslut edged forward, the glistening metal of his PA pressing into Viking's soft and opening chute. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question directed at his fellow sub.

Noah toked deeply on a bottle of amyl thrust into his hand by Nick, and nodded assuringly at Cumslut as his head lolled backwards and his arse relaxed to accept the living snake of flesh covered rock that was Cumslut's manhood.

"Fuck me, man!" he hissed. "Fuck me hard!"

Cumslut obeyed. Feeling Viking's body yield to his advance, he lowered himself down over the sub beneath him, driving himself into Viking's body in a steady penetration that stopped only when his nuts came to rest against the other's upturned butt cheeks. With a grunted `unnhhhh', he bottomed out, his cock enveloped in the searing vacuum of Viking's gut, his harnessed torso mere centimetres from the hide-bound straps enclosing the other sub's frame. In his ears, a chorus of muttering approval.

"Hot damn, boy!" his Master Rammer declared.

"Fill that sweet arse with your meat, Cumslut," whispered Nightstick.

Trojan agreed. "Oh yeah, open him and fill him," he murmured.

For his part, Viking gasped out as his body struggled to accommodate the thick pole invading it. "Holy fuck," he hissed up at the slave covering him. The pain of penetration subsided into mere discomfort at being so thoroughly filled, and that was quickly replaced by the incredibly pleasure of having Cumslut's throbbing prick and cool steel nudging deep into his gut. He flexed his sphincter around the impossible girth which held it open, and looked up into the other's eyes with greedy lust.

"Please, man," he hissed. "Pound my arse with that fuckpole of yours."

His fellow sub smiled back, matching lust for lust, excitement with desire. Pulling back just a little, he delighted in the suction from Viking's body and the gripping of the other's ring around his shaft. Driving his powerful fuckmuscle inwards again, he felt Viking relax to accept his assault. The squelching wetness of Viking's rectum aroused him incredibly, and the muscle closed around his shaft seemed to milk him; while the dragging of the PA ring in his cockhead against the walls of the other sub's chute shot shivers of electric pleasure through his entire frame. The feel of chaps and harness against his skin and the sight of similar shining leather around his mate enhanced every sensation. Again he withdrew, slightly further this time, and again he thrust forward into bliss.

"Don't make `lurv' to him, boi!" Master Trojan's deep voice commanded loudly, inches from his ear. "Fuck him, and fuck him hard. That's what you were told to do!"

"Yes, Sir," he replied enthusiastically, reefing his pelvis backward until only his cockhead and its chrome jewellery remained within the man below him. He glanced down at himself, the pulsing length of his own shaft glistening with Viking's juices, then back up along the sweat-sheened body of the man he was fucking, and slammed himself in again. Liquid heat engulfed his manhood as he thrust deep into the cavity of his fellow sub, burying himself to the hilt and readying himself for another glorious withdrawal.

Slap! A gloved hand landed hard on his bare arse cheek, making him involuntarily shove himself even further into Viking's body.

"Pound that pussy hole, Cumslut!" ordered Master Nightstick, his voice deep and close, full of menace, his hand raised for another slap.

In happy and excited obedience, Cumslut found his rhythm, pistoning in and out of the other slave in long hard strokes, his arse tingling in time to his fucking as the Master lay several more whacks upon his firm round butt with each thrusting penetration.

As Nightstick knelt beside the rutting pair of subs, enjoying the view of the coupled bois and the feel of Cumslut's firm arse beneath his glove, his colleague, Rammer, stood above the little group. Becoming aroused by the action below him, Master Rammer unsnapped his leather cod to reveal his rapidly thickening weapon, a droplet of shining manjuice already forming at the tip. He lowered himself over Viking, straddling the slave with his knees on either side of the sub's shoulders. While slowly stroking his own cock, he watched the leathered bodies gasp and rut in the near darkness.

"Rim my arse, boi!" he ordered, lowering himself further until he could feel Viking's tongue licking up at the sensitive skin along his crack. The feathery touch of that talented muscle was eroticism personified, and as Rammer settled himself into a comfortable position where Viking could lick at his hole, he gripped the black hood encasing Cumslut's head and directed the other slave's mouth down onto his rampaging erection.

"Suck, rim, you shitty slaves," he ordered in a guttural hiss, instantly obeyed by the eager subs even as they continued to be joined themselves, Cumslut's huge pole still fucking in and out of Viking's wet but willing rectum.

The three quickly became a grunting triptych of slurping, quivering sex as two slaves sought to pleasure the one Master whilst humping at each other.

Master Nightstick toyed with the idea of ploughing his hard and aching cock into Cumslut's arse whilst the sub was fucking Viking, but decided that Rammer was doing enough `punishing' of those two for now, and he stood and turned back to the centre of the dungeon play space, finding his mate Trojan standing arms crossed and legs spread wide above a grovelling Punk, who was eagerly licking the Dom's balls through the tight, soft leather jock in which they were encased.

The sight of the two men, one tall and commanding, the other prone and subservient, both geared in tight, shining leather with glistening pinpoints of light where the silver of chrome adornments caught the flickering candlelight, was incredibly arousing. A representation of completely masculine sexuality presented itself to him in the form of his friend being serviced by his lover, and Bob's heart ached with pride and joy as his alter ego, Master Rammer, approached the pair with quickly growing lusty excitement.

"Trojan, if it's okay with you, I think we can share this little slut ..." he hissed.

Nick nodded with an evil grin. "Oh yeah, that's fine with me," he agreed.

"Punk," he ordered gutturally. "On your feet, boy!"

As the sub hurried to obey, Master Nightstick ambled up to a sling, languidly floating in the dimness close by the trio. He adjusted the head of the suspended leather platform with practised ease, lowering a removable section from it, before returning his attention to the waiting slave. Seizing Punk by his harness, the top pushed him firmly back onto the smooth expanse of hide, its supporting chains clinking with the motion, in time with the creaking of the leather as Punk's weight lowered into its embrace.

Nightstick expertly lifted the sub's feet into stirrups suspended from the steel chains, forcing Punk's legs wide apart and exposing his soft, winking anus to clear view. At the other end of the sling, black leather cuffs similarly hung from the silver metal links, and the Master strapped them tightly around his slave's wrists, checking the buckles were secure. Punk now lay on the sling, exposed and restrained, his arse just extending beyond the baseline, his body inclined slightly downwards so that his chest was just lower than his pelvis, his head lolling backwards and down into the gap in the black platform.

The captive, leather clad boi floated open and helpless between the two Masters, about a metre above the floor. Nightstick smiled invitingly at his colleague.

"Which end do you want, Trojan?" he asked.

Nick whistled softly. "Makes no difference to me, mate. I'm figuring we'll be taking turns fucking this Punk, top and bottom," he hissed.

"You got that right, my friend," Nightstick replied. "Come on in, and welcome to him!"

With that he moved to stand between the upended legs of the sub, slowly leaning forward and running his hands along the sides of Punk's body, sensing the involuntary shivers of anticipation in his man. He searched out and found the twinkling of excited pleasure in eyes peering out from slits in the shining black hood encasing his boi's head, and permitted himself a smile of satisfaction before sliding his palms back down over bulging pecs and ridged abdomen. The top appreciatively squeezed at the straining bulge of leather jock at the centre of the `V' formed by the sub's thighs, and felt the smoothness of black leather stretched around Punk's muscular legs.

Movement at the other end of the sling drew his attention back up, as his friend Master Trojan assumed a dominating stance behind Punk's head. With his arms crossed on his chest, Trojan stood with legs apart looking down at the boi, his long thick cock jutting upward from the triangle of black leather at his groin, a glistening drop of pre-cum at his slit. Punk rolled his head back and the other dom inched forward until the restrained slave was licking eagerly at leather enveloped balls, the long shaft of Trojan's manhood arcing over the slave's neck.

Master Nightstick ached at the sight of his boi being dominated by another. His meat strained within the confines of the cod-piece he wore, and he happily unsnapped the top of the covering so that his prong leapt out at full erection, centimetres from the inviting hole of Punk's rear.

"I think he's ready to be spit-roasted, Nightstick," came the muttered whispering of Trojan's voice.

"Fuck, yeah!" Nightstick agreed. He greased his steel hard pole with some lube, and worked more of the cool gel into Punk's arse with two fingers, opening him up a little; not that the boy needed it after the hours they had spent at the warehouse that night.

Trojan watched his friend prepare himself, and hawked a large gob of spit into his hand before fisting it over his own throbbing weapon. Another mouthful had him wet and slippery as he looked back to where Nightstick was positioning his cockhead against the yielding flesh of the sub's sphincter. Nightstick reached up and took a firm grip of the harness straps surrounding Punk's chest, while Trojan backed off a little to aim his slicked dagger at the slave's throat while he held the boi's hooded face with both hands.

The two Masters looked at each other for a moment before Nightstick nodded.

"Now!" he hissed.

As one, each of the tops slammed themselves into the body of the man suspended between them. In unison, they filled his throat and his arse with cock, driving hot, hard flesh into his holes. Trojan held the leathered sphere of Punk's head between his palms as he speared himself deep into the wet constricting throat. Nightstick yanked hard on the harness, using its leverage to thunder his long manmeat into the heated, squelching innards of Punk's rectum. By unseen signal, the two men withdrew together, and again punched their raging members into the slave beneath them.

If Punk could have done so, he would have gasped and cried out with the pleasure and the pain of being so forcibly fucked by both men. But his mouth was filled by Master Trojan's pistoning sword, and all he could do was fight the urge to gag as he surrendered to the bliss of being totally controlled by two powerful Masters.

Nightstick and Trojan humped hard and fast into Punk, using his body for their pleasure. Unconstrained, the dominant men grasped at harness and hood, hauling the restrained and defenceless sub further onto the twin poles of man-muscle filling his hungry holes. Thrusting deep and powerfully into the slave's orifices, they took possession of his very being; owning and abusing him as they fucked him for the toy he was.

"Switch!" called Nightstick in a strangled hiss as he reefed his cock from the suctioning cavity of Punk's rectum. Trojan responded with a grunt as his own prick slurped out of the boi's throat and the two exchanged positions. Waiting for each other, they positioned themselves at his rear and mouth, their prongs glistening with bodily fluids and lubricant, twitching in the air as they trembled with anticipation.

"Okay," Master Trojan announced quietly but authoritatively. "Fuck him!"

And they did – again. Driving long hard poles of muscle coated with slickened flesh into already ravaged holes at either end of the sub's body, they resumed their thundering copulation. Once more, the compliant slave suspended in the sling became no more than a plaything they used for their own enjoyment as his body was penetrated powerfully in frenzied fucking.

Suspended and restrained as he was, Punk could do little but accept the rampaging attacks visited upon him by Master Nightstick and Master Trojan. Yet he had no desire to resist or to protest. His entire being ached with the pleasure of surrender. He shuddered with ecstatic joy as two massive and powerful men used him for their rough, masculine desires. An animalistic grunt was forced from him with each thrust of pelvic muscle that slammed into his body, as his need and desire to service the dominant males pounding into him was accepted and satisfied. His senses were somewhat dimmed, but that only served to increase the sensation of being used and controlled which he craved so much. With his head dropped backwards over the gap in the sling, he could see nothing but the blurred gleam of black leather as the muscular legs encased in chaps at his head rocked back and forth, shoving slickened cock down his throat. The only sound to reach his ears was the softened sexual symphony of clinking steel, screeching leather, slurping fleshy slaps and hissed whispers of semi-vocalised desire uttered by his possessors.

The aroma of sex was all-embracing. Punk's mind, although diverted constantly by the continual fucking he received, registered the strong and exciting mix of masculine musk and sweat, the glorious earthy smell of polished leather, and the sweet acridity of amyl, all combining to heighten his arousal. But it was the filling of his body, and the contact of leather on leather, flesh on flesh, which drove him wild. Hazy as he felt in some ways, he clearly knew which of the mighty men he served was using his mouth or his arse at any given time. Whilst they changed position several times in order to happily share the abuse of his body, Punk easily identified the two distinct men, and their respective masculinities.

His own Master Nightstick was longer, and Master Trojan somewhat thicker, in endowment. When his sphincter felt stretched and protesting, while at the same time he had to constantly fight the urge to gag with the length of heated flesh that assaulted his throat, he knew Trojan was fucking his arse and Nightstick held his face. When they swapped, his lips were forced open wide and he could barely move his tongue around Trojan's thickness, and Nightstick's glorious length seemed to go on and on forever into him, nudging right to the pit of his stomach. Yet no matter which of the powerful doms took whatever position, Punk revelled in the indescribable pleasure of being completely filled and totally possessed by two huge cocks attached to two muscular Masters. Each and every thrust of rock-hard prick into his body filled him with joy, shooting bolts of ecstatic electricity throughout his being as he trembled with delight and ached with arousal, the epicentre of pure, masculine lust.

Close by the trio in the sling, close enough to share the excitement of each grunt and hiss, Master Rammer continued his domination of Viking and Cumslut. The two subs almost fought to please and service him while they fucked each other. Viking's talented tongue tantalised Rammer's rim, the slave eagerly licking and slurping at his arse and making him shiver with pleasure. At the same time, Cumslut swallowed Rammer's thick meat into his suctioning throat, driving his own face down onto the Master until his nose was buried in Rammer's pubic hair, his chin crushing against his Master's nuts, where he held himself as long as possible, massaging that shaft with gums and tongue until he needed to back off for air, before vacuuming it back into himself again.

And as the two subs pleasured their one Master, they rutted like the animals they were. Cumslut's massive prong, thick and lengthy, was sunk deep within Viking's greedy wet chute. The larger slave shuddered with the sensations assaulting him as his giant pole was gripped and massaged by the roiling wet heat of Viking's gut. Whenever he pulled back, he felt his colleague clench around him, unwilling to surrender the log that was lodged within him, and with each inward thrust Cumslut felt Viking open to him, swallow his masculinity into that scalding scabbard of moist, clinging innards.

Viking, for his part, trembled with pure pleasure. His mouth attended to Master Rammer's arse with delight, exploring and caressing the hairy, musky crack and dark winking hole. And his own sphincter, after recovering from the initial shock of being assaulted by Cumslut's huge weapon, ached with the joy of being so completely filled and fucked. The sub happily permitted himself the pleasure of running his hands slowly along the leathered contours of the dom's thighs, down muscled calves and over the smooth blackness of boots. His own boots were in the air, resting on his fellow sub's shoulders as Cumslut's body jack-hammered away at Viking's rectum. Viking growled with lusty approval as the sheer magnitude of the other's giant cock, and the added joy of the scraping steel PA, delighted him. He could feel his sphincter muscle stretch wide to accommodate that thickness, and he swore his gut resisted each and every one of the eleven inches of satiny steel which tore into him, opened him up, and thundered jolts of heated ecstasy into his frame with every thrust.

"Enough, boy!" came a muffled command from somewhere above him.

Viking was momentarily confused, then suddenly Cumslut withdrew his prick amid a slurping, sloppy squelch of protest from Noah's bowel. The instantaneous emptiness was almost painful. An aching empty void where his body had been filled with vital living flesh only seconds earlier. But Viking had no time to dwell on his loss.

"On your feet, slave!" an order was barked down at him from the powerful Master who lifted away from his face and pointed at him.

"Yes, Sir," he barked, hurrying to obey.

Rammer led Viking and Cumslut, both still dripping with the residue of their sex, across to the sling where his colleagues Trojan and Nightstick were still plundering Punk's arse and mouth. Collecting sets of handcuffs from a shelf on the way, he secured Viking's wrists to the chains supporting the sling so that the tall blonde sub was now shackled with his arms in the air, standing side on to the grunting, sweaty trio rutting at each other on the leather platform. Shoving Cumslut roughly in behind Viking, Master Rammer again cuffed the slave, Cumslut's hands immediately above and over those of Viking. As a result of this bindings, the two standing slaves were pressed against each other, Cumslut's body matched up against Viking; chaps against chaps, harness against harness, flesh on flesh. The larger, more solid Cumslut entirely obscured Viking's body, his chest against Viking's shoulders, his cock riding up into the crack between Viking's butt cheeks.

With the two subs now effectively locked together against each other and almost leaning over Punk as Trojan and Nightstick maintained their assault on him, Master Rammer allowed himself a moment of lusty observation as he surveyed the group of five strong, leather clad men, bound together in the throes of animal sex. He grunted, laying a gloved hand on the creamy, firm flesh of Cumslut's backside.

"Fuck that tight white arse again, boy!" he demanded.

Cumslut grunted. "Yes, Sir!" his response was guttural and enthusiastic. Viking tried to assist by standing higher while his fellow sub bent at the knees, doing his best to guide the silver ring at the head of his aching, trembling prick toward the target that was Viking's arse.

Master Rammer watched in amusement as the two slaves tried valiantly but in vain to comply with his order. Shackled as they were, and greasy from their earlier coupling, despite their best efforts the two could not seem to connect such that Cumslut might slide his prick into Viking without assistance. They slid up and down against each other, exciting both in the process, but simply unable to make that vital connection.

Pretending annoyance, Rammer moved in behind Cumslut himself. A gloved hand landed a stinging slap on each of the subs' butt cheeks.

"What the fuck are you girls playing at?" he demanded. "I said, 'Fuck him!'".

"Sorry, Sir," each of them mumbled, still trying to obey his order.

Rammer's hands travelled up along Cumslut's back, then he reached around and felt his way down Viking's body as he pressed himself into his slave. Finally reaching in between the two, his right hand gripped and guided Cumslut's cock into position as his left parted Viking's cheeks to reveal the entrance to the slave's body. As the massive cockhead nudged against the winking, vulnerable hole, Master Rammer slammed his own pelvis hard into Cumslut's backside, forcing the two men together as that giant prick finally found its way into the waiting sphincter.

"I said Fuck him!", he declared loudly, as both subs gasped and grunted with the sudden resumption of the coupling.

They did their best to comply. Although restrained at the wrists so that each was standing and spread-eagled, the slaves sweated and groaned again as they fucked. Viking found the position awkward, with his arms held high and his legs apart, and it also meant that his cock flailed up and down with each crunching jab from the giant prick embedded in him. Droplets of pre-cum spattered from his cockhead in an arc which followed the motion of his prong as it slapped upwards against his abdomen, then down hard onto the flesh of Punk where he lay on the sling, before flying up again. Despite the discomfort, the position was also turning him on incredibly. With another sub fucking deeply into his arse, he was left almost helpless by his restraints, yet stood beside and above yet another slave who was being heartily fucked by two powerful Masters, so close that his dick was slapping against the flesh of that other slave in time to the pounding his arse took from the first sub's cock. The entire scene was bathed in a dim light which emphasised the leather and sweat on the copulating bodies, and Noah was electrified by the situation he found himself in.

As Viking revelled in his defenceless but ecstatic stance, Cumslut obediently thrust his raging erection upwards and into the other's hole. The angle of their joinder made it difficult for him to get much strength into the fucking, but he was more than compensated by the proximity of his friend, lashed together as they were. He was careful not to withdraw too far lest he slip from the other sub's rectum and be punished because he was no longer inside him, but the sensations he felt ensured he remained hard as steel, and so keeping himself inside Viking's arse was not impossible. But if he had any doubts about being able to maintain this position for long, they were soon dispelled.

With Cumslut fucking up and into Viking, Master Rammer decided it was time for him to join in the serious action. Standing behind his mate, he admired the musculature in Cumslut's legs and back. He moved forward, sliding his glistening masculinity up and into the crevice formed between the two mounds of flesh that were the slave's butt. He pressed himself downward, until the knob of his prick was kissing the flexing sphincter of the sub, and fell into the rocking motion as Cumslut continued to hump into Viking. Awaiting his opportunity, he positioned himself carefully, and as Cumslut backed out on one of his strokes, Rammer shoved his own cock into the beckoning muscle of his slave just as Cumslut thundered into Viking once again.

A crescendo of grunts, curses and gasping obscenities escaped from the group of men. Master Rammer sighed with deep satisfaction as his tool buried itself deep into the squelching, ravenous gut of his powerfully built mate. Viking instantly knew what was happening behind him, as the additional strength of Rammer's thrusts into Cumslut prompted a doubling of the effort with which he in turn gouged Viking's greedy sphincter. Cumslut was the meat in their sandwich, and he gasped for delighted breath as his body was crushed between the two men, his throbbing pole forced deep into his fellow slave while at the same time his bowel was filled and fucked with force by Master Rammer's demanding tool.

Punk could not see what was happening above and beside him, but he certainly appreciated the intensified attack it engendered upon him, as both of the Masters who were using him slammed their weapons harder, faster and deeper into his holes in response to the erotic sights and sounds of the triple fucking taking place so close to them.

Master Trojan had his thick, meaty prong buried deep inside Punk's gut when Rammer launched the attack upon Cumslut and Viking. The sight of his own boy being humped hard by the other slave, driven in turn by his fellow Dom's thundering penetration of the sandwiched sub, was incredibly arousing. Combined with the already intense pleasure he was taking from using the boi who was skewered upon his own cock, the fucking that was happening beside him spurred him into pounding harder and faster into Punk.

As Trojan's rampage into his slave increased, Master Nightstick revelled in the sound of wet slapping flesh on flesh, and the squeal of leather against leather. Punk's mouth and throat enveloped and massaged his long, driving dong with each inward shove, and bolts of electric ecstasy shot through him with the sight of the sweaty, leathered rut all around him. He too powered enthusiastically into the object of pleasure he and Trojan shared – the shuddering, muscled body of his partner, and very quickly the six individual men became a single, animalistic mass of writhing, glistening passion, moving as one to the unheard beat of natural urges.

For what length of time the group maintained their frenzied conjoinder, no one member could say, but it was Cumslut who succumbed to his climax first. With both his arse and his cock being serviced in such a way as to drive him wildly into abandon, he fought the growing explosion as long as he could, but with a roar of pure pleasure and a spasm which engulfed his entire body, he reached his peak, clamping his ring like a vice around Rammer's cock and pumping voluminous loads of sticky cream into Viking's body.

Cumslut's orgasm set off a chain reaction amongst his friends. Viking followed his colleague into oblivion, the river of cum injected into his chute, and the swelling of Cumslut's already massive cock inside his sphincter, pushed him beyond his limit. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he pushed back hard against his fucker and shot a fountain of ejaculate up and over Punk's abdomen as it lay suspended before him. The sudden, combined resistance of both slaves as they pushed back onto his manhood caused a rush of sensations throughout Master Rammer's body, and he joined with the subs in surrendering to pure bliss, his essence filling the suctioning cavity that was Cumslut's bowel.

It was the sight of Viking's ejaculation spouting up and over the boi he was fucking which finished Master Trojan. Cursing with pleasure, he crashed himself one last time into Punk's body, releasing a river of salty seed which flooded into the sub's gut. Nightstick watched in awe as one after the other his playmates reached their zenith. When Trojan fucked Punk so hard with his final thrust, it forced the boi's throat even further back onto Nightstick's masculinity.

"Holy Fuck!" he whispered gutturally as he began to pump thick, viscous cum into Punk's stomach. Punk felt the last thrusts coming from both of the men he serviced, and he swallowed again and again as his Master filled his face with juice. Feeling the shuddering explosion of two climaxes as they took place inside his body was unbelievably erotic, and the slave barely even realised that his own ejaculation was adding to the spasms of release taking place on the sling as he spunked a substantial volume of gooey jizz into the lake of cream already formed upon his own abdomen.

A good five minutes passed before any of them felt strong enough to begin the process of disentangling the intertwined bodies. Eventually cocks were withdrawn from arses and mouths, slaves were unshackled and helped to stand upright for a brief moment, before all six collapsed together, legs and arms thrown over each other in a gasping, glistening heap of sweat and leather on the floor of the playroom.

"Fuck me dead!" Punk exclaimed.

"Oh yeah!" Viking agreed, to the exhausted chuckles of the others.

Nick and Noah arrived back at the house on the Peninsula quite late on Saturday afternoon. They had shared an afternoon lunch with Bob, Peter, Sean and Will when all eventually surfaced after their marathon session the night before, but Sean and Will needed to leave soon after, and Bob and Peter had a previously arranged dinner engagement they couldn't cancel, so Nick and Noah donned their bike leathers, to much cat-calling and suggestive comment from the others, climbed onto their bikes, and headed out of town again.

Fortunately, Patrick and Frank weren't home when they arrived, and they were able to get inside still wearing their suits without seeing anyone. In the kitchen, they found a note from Patrick, letting them know that he and Frank were going out for the evening, and wouldn't be back until late. The note also let them know that Mrs Fitzgibbon had taken that afternoon and the following day to travel into Melbourne, so they were completely on their own. The weather had turned a little cool, so the boys happily remained in their leathers, settling on the patio with a light beer each.

"So Phillip is the most likely suspect, just as I thought," declared Nick, as their conversation came around to the subject of the murder yet again.

"It looks that way," Noah agreed. "Bob said he would probably be down here to interview him on Tuesday or Wednesday."

"I think we should try to talk to him first," Nick stated.

"What? That could be interfering with the official investigation. Besides, why on earth would he talk to us? He doesn't even know us."

"Yes," Nick agreed, "but you know no-one ever tells the cops anything, especially once they realise they are a suspect. If we can get him to open up to us, he's more likely to let something slip to us than he is to the police."

Noah chuckled. "And just how do you think you are going to get him to open up to us – two complete strangers?"

Nick pouted. "I didn't say it would be easy, but I think it would be good if we could manage it."

His partner sighed, looking at the long face on his man. "Okay, Nick," he relented. "We'll try to get him to talk to us. But we need some `in', some reason for going to see him, something which is going to make him feel at ease enough to talk to us."

Together, they sat in silence, wracking their brains for an excuse to visit Phillip that would set the other man's mind at ease with them.

"We can hardly claim to be friends of Wes," Nick noted. "Firstly, it's a lie he'll know about, since they were lovers; and secondly, I don't think that would help him open up anyway."

"No," Noah agreed, "We need to something that will ring true to him."

"What about David?" Nick suddenly asked excitedly.

"David? How do you mean?"

"Well, David was friends with both of them."

Noah looked doubtful. "Maybe, but Phillip got angry when David went to see him the day before the funeral."

"Yeah, but that was the day before the man he loved was to be buried," Nick repeated. "What if we tell him that David asked us to check on him, that David was worried about him, now that it's all over. Maybe he will have calmed down a bit, be ready to talk?"

Shaking his head, Noah disagreed. "I don't think it will work."

"Come on, Noah," his man pressed. "It's the best chance we've got. In fact it's the only idea either of us can think of."

Reluctantly, Noah had to acknowledge that Nick was right. There was nothing else they could imagine as a way of breaking through with Phillip. Eventually he agreed.

"Okay, we'll give it a try. I just hope it doesn't set him even more in stone, make it more difficult for Bob Moran to get anything on him."

The last of the daylight was slipping away, and Nick jumped up. "Okay then, let's go!"

"What, right now?"

"Why not. If he's at home, we can make like old friends, see if he'll have a drink and a chat – that always helps!"

Still not convinced, Noah followed as Nick led them out of the gate again, riding down to the main road and re-tracing the steps to Phillip's home. Luckily, it was easily re-found from their limited knowledge of the area around Portsea. They curbed their bikes on the street outside, removed their helmets and gloves, and knocked politely on his front door.

There was no reply to the first knock, and Nick tried again, a little louder. A light could be seen in one of the windows, but no indication of whether anyone was at home. They were about to give up when a flicker of curtains gave away the fact that someone had spotted them from inside. Nick was ready to knock once more, when the door opened to him, and Phillip stood there in jeans and an unbuttoned shirt.

"Hello," he said cautiously, "Can I help you?"

Noah spoke first. "Hello," he said. "We're sorry to disturb you, but our names are Nick Giannis and Noah Sorensen. We're friends of ..."

Phillip interrupted him. "So you're Nick and Noah. I know who you are – the guys from Sydney who have been staying at Wes' place!" He stepped back just a little, surveying the two leather clad men at his door. "What do you want?"

Nick stood there, mouth open in surprise. Noah recovered quickly. "Umm, we're actually friends with Wes' friend, David ..."

"Yeah, I know David. He came to see me a week ago. I'm afraid I wasn't very polite to him."

Grasping that as an opening, Noah pressed on. "That's okay. David understood that you were upset about what had happened, and he didn't take any offence. In fact, he asked us to call around if we had time, to check if you were okay. He was quite concerned about you."

Nick tried to stifle a grin at just how well his man could make up a story when he needed to. But the tale seemed to work. Phillip relaxed a little, seemed less defensive.

"So you two are friends' of David?" The emphasis he put on the word friends' suggested he thought Nick and Noah were much more than that. "He always did have good taste when it came to picking the lookers!"

Ignoring the comment as best he could, Noah tried again. "As a favour to David, really, we just wanted to make sure you were alright, that you weren't feeling too depressed ..."

Phillip seemed still undecided, standing at his door, his eyes undisguisedly exploring their bodies. Nick realised that Noah wasn't getting anywhere being too coy, and guessed that a slightly different approach could work. He stepped forward a little, making sure the light fell on his suited frame. He dropped his thumb to his waist, his fingers spreading so that, as he was well aware, the `v' formed by his thumb and finger framed and emphasised his cock.

"Perhaps we could come in and , umm, ... `talk' ... with you about it?" he offered as suggestively as he could.

Noah glanced sideways in surprise, then looked back at Phillip, only to catch him involuntarily lick at his lips, his eyes now firmly fixed on Nick's prick! He seemed reluctant still, and looked back into the house quickly, as if checking whether there were someone else behind him, before returning his gaze to the two muscular, leather clad men at his door. `If this worked ...', Noah told himself.

"We, ahh, ... know ... David very, very well," he assured Phillip in a near whisper filled with innuendo.

That seemed to convince the man. He stepped backwards, opening the door fully. "Then maybe you should come in," he replied in a throaty voice.

Taking up his invitation, the two followed him into a living room, seating themselves on lounges in such a way that their legs were spread and their bodies on show. Phillip sat on a single seater between them, his head swivelling from one to the other as they began to speak.

"How did you know who we were?" Nick asked.

He smiled, tapping the side of his nose. "This is a small town, guys. I have my ear to the ground."

Noah took a new approach. "So you know David, too?" he asked softly.

Phillip grinned. "Not as well as I suspect you two do! I would have liked the opportunity to get to `know' him better, but I was with Wes then."

Leaning back and spreading his legs, knowing this position showed him in his best light, Nick said in a voice laced with lusty emphasis, "So what stopped you and Wes from getting to `know' David together? It worked for us, I can assure you!"

"Ha! I only wish!" Phillip became angry again, looking at neither of them but staring off into space. "Bloody Wes! He would never even consider anything out of the ordinary. He couldn't see the difference between love and sex, wouldn't listen to what I was trying to explain." His voice rose, almost to a shout now, but he was speaking to the air, not to Nick and Noah. "The bastard made up his mind, and that was it, I was damned for all time. I loved him and I hated him, both at once!"

"Hey," Nick offered, trying to keep him on side. "That was a bit unreasonable, wasn't it?"

"Unreasonable?" Phillip exploded. "I'll tell you unreasonable! One mistake, one little error! You think he could forgive that? Well, maybe he could, if I'd lied to him, but no I tried to tell him the truth, to explain to him, and get him to join me because I loved him. And what I got for my trouble was nothing. No understanding, no consideration of the years I had given him. God I hated him!"

"Enough to kill him?" Noah asked quietly but firmly.

"What?" Phillip rounded on him. "You think I killed him? I loved him."

"Where were you the night he died?" Nick said, diving into the confusion in Phillip's head.

"Umm, here .." he muttered.

"Can you prove it? Was there anyone else here?"

"Maybe," the other man had quietened again, becoming defensive.

"I doubt it," Nick snorted derisively. "I think you were so angry about the way Wes had treated you that you killed him in a fit of rage, or revenge, or whatever."

"You have got it so wrong!" Phillip wailed. "I don't have to explain myself to you two ..."

"No, but you will have to explain it to the cops," Nick said coldly.

"That is enough!" shouted a voice from the next room, bringing Nick and Noah to a sudden, frozen halt. Phillip shook his head and cursed.

A handsome young man, wearing nothing but a loose towel around his waist, burst through the door to confront them.

Nick's jaw dropped and he simply said "Fuck!?!"

Noah could barely speak as well. He stammered and stuttered before finally getting his mouth to work again. He looked at the other man with a question. "Frank?" he said.

"You guys are so wrong!" Frank almost shouted in anger. "Why couldn't you leave things lie? Phil didn't kill Wes. He couldn't have. He loved him too much. And he was here the night Wes was murdered. Here ALL night." His voice lowered then, almost to a whisper. "With me!"

"Holy shit!" Nick exclaimed.

"The two of you?" Noah asked quietly, still stunned.

Both men nodded. "With Patrick?" Noah almost whispered.

Phillip became animated again. "Give me some credit," he said scornfully. "Wes was my lover. Patrick was like our son. Of course I didn't sleep with him!"

"But I thought Patrick and Frank were together that night?"

Phillip slumped down into a chair again, and Frank perched on the arm next to him, but there was no sign of affection, merely support.

"Patrick and Frank came here together, but Patrick left. We never had sex – it was unthinkable to either of us. But I needed some release, just like everyone does, and Frank is damned good in bed. Patrick left us together, and went out."

"Out where?" Nick demanded.

"Playing his little games, buying and selling!" Phillip said wryly.

"Phil!" Frank said in a tone of urgent warning.

"What are you talking about? What games?" Nick asked. His voice was now cold as steel.

"It doesn't matter," Frank assured them.

"Oh yes it does," Noah answered. "If Patrick wasn't with you, he's lied to the cops. That isn't going to look very good for him at all."

"Only if you tell them," Frank noted sarcastically.

"So you tell us where he was that night," Nick spat back.

It was Phillip who answered, with a sad smirk. "Patrick was out dealing with tina." He said simply.

"Tina? Who in the fuck is Tina?"

Frank laughed derisively. "God, you are out of touch, old man! Tina isn't a person. Haven't you ever heard of ice?"

Nick still looked confused. "Ice?" he repeated, looking to Noah. His lover suddenly understood.

"Crystal Meth, Nick," he said sadly. "Patrick is a drug dealer!" Turning to Frank again, he asked softly. "That's where he was that night? Out dealing in crystal meth?"

Frank nodded. "Of course he couldn't tell the cops that, so he told them we were together all night. As soon as I got a chance, I came here to tell Phil what had happened, and what we'd told the cops."

"Did Wes know about it?" Nick asked suddenly.

"Of course not. Wes was so straight, he never suspected a thing about Patrick. Not about the drugs, not about the orgies, nothing."

Noah shook his head. "And Patrick didn't care that you two were having sex?"

"Why would he?" Frank asked. "It's just sex. Phil needed someone to help relieve the tension. I love Patrick, and he loves me, and we both know it. It doesn't matter who we have sex with – as long as we know and trust each other."

"That's about the first intelligent thing you've said all night," Nick remarked bitterly.

"It's a pity Wes couldn't see the same thing!" Phillip muttered.

"Is that what you broke up over?" Noah asked, his tone softer now, more compassionate.

Phillip nodded. "Guys, I know how bad this looks to you as complete outsiders, but I'm not the slut, or the evil monster you probably think. I really did love Wes, with all my heart. But Wes was very conservative, in almost every way. From time to time, I'd get the urge to try something different in bed, but he wouldn't consider it. Our love making was as boring and predictable as the worst stories you've heard about old married couples, if it happened at all. I had a couple of flings on the side, and then I met a guy who took me to an orgy."

Nick raised his eyebrows, glancing at Noah, who motioned him to keep quiet. Phillip went on.

"I guess it wasn't much of an orgy really, just three of us, but it was the `kinkiest' thing I'd ever done! When I went home, I tried to bring up the possibility of something similar with Wes, but I thought he was going to have a heart attack just thinking about it. There was no way he would even begin to consider it. So I kept going out, and meeting other guys, and coming home to him for our regular little romp in bed with the lights out.

"The problem came when for some unfathomable reason Wes came home early one day. He never did anything outside his normal routine, and I was with a guy I'd picked up at the beach. We were getting into it in the pool at home, and Wes wasn't due back for hours. When he walked in and caught us I thought the world was going to end. I tried to explain my feelings, my needs. I tried to tell him that it was him I loved, that the sex with someone else, was just sex, but he wouldn't listen. He told me that the only way he could forgive me was if I swore to him I would never see this guy, or anyone else, ever again. I couldn't do that, so I told him the truth – told him that I enjoyed sex with other men, even several other men at the same time. I told him I thought it would be good for us if he joined in. I tried to explain that there was a huge gap between sex and love, but he closed his mind and that was that. He never spoke another pleasant, civil word to me from that day until he died!"

Nick, always the emotional one of the pair, melted. "Phillip, I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. "We had it all wrong. And we can sympathise ..." he looked to Noah and found the support he was after. "Noah and I understand what you mean. We play around with others, but we also understand the difference between sex and love. Love is what we have together, and sex is what we enjoy with other people."

Frank looked at them both with new eyes. "So your comments when you first arrived, the flirting you did, wasn't just an act?" he said hopefully, a little excitement creeping into his voice. "I told Patrick you two were hot, told him we could have some fun with you!"

Noah laughed. "No it wasn't an act, but in case you're thinking of more, I don't think here, or now, or with either of you, would be a good idea," he said firmly.

"Oh, I guess not," Frank accepted with disappointment. "Pity! And I'm sure if you change your mind, Patrick would be more than interested, as long as you don't wear those suits," he said, pointing at the bike leathers.

"Umm, I suspect that our tastes, and Patrick's tastes, vary considerably," Noah commented without explanation.

The couple made their apologies, and left Phillip and Frank alone again, as they rode back to the house. Exhausted from the previous night, and the encounter with Phillip and Frank, they stripped off the bike gear, and sat in cloth robes for a short while sipping at a night-cap, before making their way to bed and sleeping soundly.

The next morning, Nick and Noah woke to find Patrick and Frank together on the patio. Hiding their surprise, they joined them, making small talk and avoiding all mention of the previous evening. It was Patrick who brought up the subject, with a very innocent comment.

"How was your Friday night, guys?" he asked. "Must have been a big one, cause you two were long asleep by the time we got home."

"Umm, yes, it was," Nick confirmed. Noah looked hard at Frank, who shook his head just slightly, letting them know he hadn't told Patrick about the previous night's conversation.

"Shows you're getting old!" Patrick went on. "When you can't keep going as long as you want to. If you ever want some real stamina, something to keep you `up' and running for hours, just let me know," he winked.

Nick couldn't believe how openly he was intimating he could provide them with drugs, but he did his best to ignore it.

"You going out on those bikes again today?" Frank asked.

"No, it's that old age Patrick mentioned," Noah answered with only the slightest hint of sarcasm. "We thought we'd hang around here, relax and recharge the batteries. I guess we should really be thinking of going home soon. We must be wearing our welcome thin by now?"

"Not at all," Patrick declared graciously. "Seriously guys, I'm no good as a host, I know that. And you have been the perfect guests – around when I want to talk, but out on your own without needing me to be there. Stay as long as you want!"

"Thanks, Patrick," Nick said, and meant it.

For the rest of the morning, the four sat and chatted amiably. Once again, it occurred to Noah that Patrick was a charming man. Frank too, and as a couple they were wonderful company. Yet now he found his opinion clouded. He couldn't forget that Patrick was dealing drugs. Ice at that! It was a serious matter, and one neither he nor Nick could ever condone. It saddened him, and it made him suspicious of everything the younger man said and did.

The weather turned warmer that afternoon, and the pool became a focal point for the group, as they swam naked and lazed around in the water. The suggestive comments and barely hidden innuendoes came thick and fast from both Patrick and Frank, but Nick and Noah ignored all. Eventually, the younger men tired of their games, and announced that they were going into the village for something to eat.

"You want to join us?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow hopefully.

"No, thanks," Nick replied. "I think we'll have an early night!"

"Old age!" Patrick repeated.

When they had gone, Noah took Nick by the arm and led him up to the bedroom in silence.

"Thank you!" he said solemnly.

"For what?" Nick smiled.

"For being who you are, and for us being able to share everything, and understand what is important. I feel so sorry for Wes and for Phillip, that they couldn't find that!"

"Yes, I know," Nick said sadly. "It makes me appreciate just how lucky I am!"

... 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!