Simon Sheppard: Best Gay Erotica 2012

“We could blow his brains out—and call it self-defense. Who would know different?”

The cop made a strangled noise and tried to sit up.

“No,” I said. “I couldn’t kill anybody—even him. No, we’ve got to deliver him to his own…”

“Does Ash have a lawyer? Let’s ask somebody what we can do so this sonofabitch never bothers anybody again.”

“Nnnnnnn.” The cop had sat up and was shaking his head desperately. “Nnnnnnn.”

“I think he’s trying to tell us something,” I said.

“Be careful.”

I slid off the bed, holding Brad’s shoulders until my legs were stable under me—until the shooting pains had stopped searing my spine; then I searched for the gun. It was still on the floor where it had fallen in the scuffle. I picked it up and pointed it at its owner. “Take his gag off.”

Reluctantly, Brad untied the towel and pulled a wad of material out of the cop’s mouth—my shorts.

“Go ahead,” the cop said. “Pull the fucking trigger.”

I shook my head. “I really don’t want to be a cop-killer—even though I’m sure I’d be justified. Justifiable homicide, isn’t that…?”

“Oh, shit.” the cop spat. “You couldn’t kill a fucking mosquito with that. Pull the fucking trigger and see.”

“Don’t do it,” Brad said. “It’s some kind of trick.”

“Its no trick. They’re fuckin’ blanks. Go ahead, pull the trigger, blow my balls off.”

“Yes, Master.” I said, pointing the gun at his testicles and pulling the trigger.

He flinched as the trigger clicked—but nothing happened to his balls.

He took a deep breath. “They’re all spent,” he said. “You don’t have to call anyone. Nobody got hurt. We had our fun. Now, untie me and let me go home.”

“It was a game, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Of course it was.”

“Just a game. You scare the shit out of somebody, you make somebody think you’re going to kill them—and it’s just a game?”

He nodded wearily.

I explained to Brad: “He hangs out by the leather bars and waits for someone he can hassle—I made a U-turn—then lets them think they can fuck their way out of a ticket. He goes home with them, ties them up, scares the shit out of them, rapes them—and then they wake up in the morning with the good officer’s cold cum all over their bellies.” I leaned over and asked him “Does that about cover it?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Well, he fooled me.” Brad said.

“Okay?” the cop asked. “Will you unlock these things now?”

Brad looked at me; I shook my head. “Ask us nicely,” I said.

“Come on, for Christ’s sake. We’ve had our fun….”

“No.” I said sharply. “ You had your fun. Now we are gonna have ours .”

“Wait.” Brad jumped up and hurried into the front room, then returned with a paper lunch bag. “This,” he told me, “is why I went out tonight. It was for your birthday next week, but we can open your present early—if you want to.” He extracted a baggie of marijuana. There were several already-rolled joints in the bag. He took one out and lit it. “Sit on him,” he told me. He took a deep drag.

I sat on the man’s crotch and watched as Brad bent over, took his face firmly between his hands, and kissed him, blowing the smoke into his mouth. To my surprise, instead of resisting, the cop sucked the smoke in—kissing Brad deeply in the process. He gave me the joint and I sucked it in, then kissed the cop, emptying my hot lungs into him. By the time we finished the joint, I was reeling.

“What was that stuff?” I asked.

“ Sensimilla ,” Brad said. “The best there is. It’s from Oregon. Happy birthday.”

I laughed. “ Happy fucking birthday to me.” I stood up. “Help me get him on the bed.”

We lifted him up—he offered no resistance—and plopped him down in the middle of the bed.

“Keep him busy,” Brad said, and hurried out of the room again.

I knelt over him, dangling my cock in his face. It was dripping precum that made shiny trails across his nose and cheeks, like a snail. He opened his mouth expectantly, licking his lips. “Oh.” I said. “You like that, do you?”

He moaned.

“Ask.”

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please let me suck your cock.”

“That’s not what I meant. What do you call a superior being?”

His eyes opened wider and his mouth twitched. “ Master,” he whispered.

“Good boy.” I said.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned.

“That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” I asked him.

“Someone superior to you. Someone even better than a San Francisco cop.”

“Yesssss,” he hissed.

“Yes, what ?”

“Yes, Master.”

I grabbed his face and shoved my cock into his open mouth. His body convulsed and he sucked my cock deep like a starving man, and lay there under me, swallowing and moaning. “That’s what you wanted all along. Someone… superior. ”

“Here.” Brad came back into the room holding several lengths of clothesline rope.

With my cock down his throat, I watched Brad unlock the handcuffs, then tie the cop’s wrists to the bedposts—he offered no resistance, but held out his arms like Jesus on the cross, letting Brad cinch the ropes securely.

I withdrew from his throat, and then stood beside Brad, my arm around his shoulders, as we studied our prisoner. He contemplated us, looking confused, as though seeing both of us for the first time.

“Are you… really… lovers?” He asked.

Brad said, “What are you talking about?”

The cop shook his head, frowning. “The… two… of you,” he said.

“You’re out of your mind, mister,” I said. “There’s only one of us. You must be seeing double.”

“Oh, Jesus.” he moaned. “Oh, god.” He closed his eyes tightly and lay there groaning.

As Brad undressed, I tied the cop’s ankles to the same bedposts as his hands, bending him double, spread-eagled, with his ass in the air. I dipped my hand into the Crisco and swathed my cock with the grease, then knelt on the bed between the cop’s legs and slowly eased it into the twitching asshole of one of San Francisco’s Finest. He moaned gratefully with each inch, until I was all the way up inside his body. His big cock was flipping like a fish out of water, slick clear fluid oozing out of the uncircumcised head, dripping onto his chiseled stomach. I smeared some more shortening on my hand and closed my fingers around his incredible cock and slowly massaged it, up and down, as he writhed, and his asshole ruffled and fluttered around my cock.

“That’s gorgeous ,” Brad said, seeing the cop’s cock hard for the first time.

“Isn’t it?” I agreed. “A work of fucking art.”

Brad laughed and got onto the bed, between the cop’s spread legs and outstretched arms, and slowly urged his hard cock down the man’s groaning throat—while I knelt between his legs, my identical cock buried up to the hilt in his ass. Brad grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him and we kissed each other deeply as we explored and fucked the body between us. Both our hands could fit around his cock, so both of us jacked him off as we fucked him. Brad’s mouth locked against mine and his tongue bathed my tongue, and I shoved my prick home up the officer’s ass, and came, clutching Brad, kissing him intensely, as he shot his load deep into the man’s throat. And then the cop came. His body convulsed between us and his cock spewed wild volleys of cop-cum all over all of us.

And then we collapsed.

After Dan, the cop, had gone home (we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to “do it again sometime,”) Brad and I were lying on the bed, talking about what had happened.