Thanks for your feedback, as always. See previous chapters for disclaimers.
This chapter has a bit of rough content, so remember this is just fiction and don't try any of this in real life.
11
Warren wasn't sure whether to be aroused or agitated when he saw a naked Calvin standing in front of him. Even in the dimly lit private office, Warren could see what an utterly flawless body the policeman had, topped off by the bull balls hanging underneath a huge 10 inch cock. Warren was blessed with his own 10 inches, but Calvin had some girth on them.
"John Paul McQueen was attacked cause of your thugs," Calvin spat at Warren.
Warren wasn't going to admit responsibility, especially since he had had no idea about any of this happening. He would have to talk to John Paul soon.
"Something tells me you aren't so hot and bothered over a poof nearly getting a pounding."
Calvin sneered. His face was pressed right next to Warren's own intense face, their hot breath mingling. Warren was rock hard in his jeans and noticed Calvin's horse meat stabbing at his belly. He reached out to stroke the dark baton, only to have Calvin smack his hand away.
"Look but not touch? What a prick tease."
Calvin wasn't in the mood for joking.
"Did you fuck Sonny?"
At the time, Warren had been too busy longdicking Mercedes and Louise to pay attention to Calvin's sneering, shouting brother. He had walked in on Sonny pounding Justin's bubble butt a few times. He decided to lie, just to crush the snarling copper.
"Yeah. He begged for it."
As soon as the barb left Warren's lips, he sensed he'd made a mistake. Moving fast as lightning, Calvin shoved him onto the leather sofa, handcuffing his hands behind his head to the nearby table. Warren's hands were over his head now, exposing his slight belly as his polo shirt rose up.
"All that lager's gotten you out of shape," Calvin taunted.
"Just more to love. Ask your brother."
Calvin spat at him, the saliva landing on his right cheek. Warren licked the droplet away.
Calvin then pulled off Warren's sneakers, his jeans coming next. He wasn't wearing underpants, meaning his own 10 inches smacked at his stomach. Calvin smirked as he noted Warren's erection.
"You like this, just wait. Gets better."
Warren's mouth fell open as Calvin suddenly brandished a police truncheon. He brought the nightstick next to his anaconda, leaving Warren to compare the length and width of the two beasts. Next he ran the weapon between Warren's heavy, hairy low-hangers, up his quivering, uncut cock, and finally to his mouth.
"Get it wet."
Warren shuddered as he realized what the nightstick was going to be used for. He began sucking the hard plastic, Calvin bobbing a few inches back and forth in Warren's mouth before slowly releasing.
He laid the club aside, hoisting Warren's beefy legs on his head. His tongue aimed and hit the center of Warren's hole. Warren gasped at the sight of this gorgeous man he had hated for so long giving him an expert rim job. Calvin added a few fingers, with Warren begging him not to stop.
"You're gonna get more than this, you slime. Be patient."
Calvin had brought some lube with him, and coated the nightstick up and down. Warren had expected to panic, but as Calvin ran the object up and down Warren's hairy crack, Warren surprised himself by begging for the insertion.
Calvin hadn't expected Warren to be such a pig, but he was surprised at just how hot this had turned out to be. He slid the first inches of the plastic tube into Warren's anus. Warren tried to remain still, shivering and moaning at the sensations through his body. As more and more of the stick entered him, his prostate was brazenly teased and taunted, but never directly touched.
His cock had never been harder or more eager for release. His foreskin had fully retracted, the shiny pink head leaking a steady stream of cum.
"Ready for the real thing?" Calvin whispered in a husky voice full of sex.
Warren nodded. He'd lost all control. He was being dominated by a smug copper he'd hated since he first laid eyes on him. They'd fought over everything. Yet he had never been more satisfied than this moment as Calvin Valentine's bitch.
As the last of the truncheon left Warren's now exposed hole, Calvin smacked Warren's full cheeks with his donkey dick. He took pity on Warren's rigid sword of flesh and ran his index finger on the underside, leaving a dollop of pre-cum on his finger.
"Mmm..."
Ready now, he put Warren's legs back on his broad shoulders. He took his time entering Warren. He wanted as much of himself inside Warren as possible. He wanted this to be as pleasurable as possible. He wanted Warren to remember this for a long time, to desire him, to see him as a weakness.
The plan seemed to be working. Warren was enraptured by the methodical violation of his arsehole. He was so tight, Calvin knew ejaculation was soon in coming. He pushed Warren's knees as close to his head as possible, dangling Warren's engorged penis near his face.
"Open your mouth," Calvin hissed.
Warren whimpered at Calvin's rough strokes. He was being milked and couldn't have asked for anything better. He imagined the sight of his face covered in cum, his own cum, the great hardman Warren Fox as a cheap whore, and he came. Buckets and buckets of fresh cream, covering his features.
Calvin began jackhammering that meaty set of buttocks, until he too came. He left his cock deep in Warren's bowels for a few minutes, savoring the warmth, but eventually pulled free.
He wished he'd brought his camera. Warren in cuffs, naked except for a sweat and cum-stained shirt, face and arse leaking semen, was one of the hottest sights of Calvin's life.
Warren was completely spent, but now that he had this stronger connection with the equally exhausted man towering over him, he wanted to be honest. For once in his life.
"Calvin..." Warren panted. "I was lying bout your brother."
Calvin laughed. "I know. You lie every time you open your mouth."
He leaned over Warren, licking his face clean while freeing him from his cuffs. They then made out, exploring each other's naked bodies once Calvin had ripped Warren's shirt away. They would never be friends, but from now on they would be foes with benefits.
11
John Paul McQueen walked into the Evissa beauty salon. Michaela had been going on and on about the new hairdresser. He had to pick Carmel up, so he might as well see for himself.
"Carm's already gone home. Got a lift from Louise. Can I do anything for you?"
John Paul turned around to see Niall Rafferty. He had a shaved head, hard features, gray, intense, slit eyes, and a very naughty smile. Charisma to spare. And jeans so tight John Paul could see his foreskin.
John Paul didn't realize it, but his life would never be quite the same...
11
"Thanks for stopping by. Tina. I don't know what's going on with her. She's changed."
Dominic let Tina's boss, Pete Webster, into the apartment he and Tina shared with his brother and brother's girlfriend. They were all out, leaving Dom to himself. Tina was fuck knows where. She was upset that Dom didn't believe her claims that Pete had harassed her. But Pete wasn't like that. He was a nice guy. Charming. He'd gone out of his way to befriend Dom. Bad guys didn't do that.
Pete, a shark with perfectly groomed, short dark hair and facial fuzz, clad in a perfectly tailored suit that was tight in all the right places, shook Dom's extended hand. He was going to make that bitch Tina pay. First things first, he was going to seduce her idiot of a husband.
To be continued...