Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

Thursday night rolled around again. Finding Allen at the gay men's sports club once again for a pickup basketball game—and maybe something else to pick up as well. These manufactured role playing games of Sam's had really opened Allen up. He was looking for it more broadly and actively than before. He was coming out of his mourning period for the lieutenant—or at least what the lieutenant had given him sexually—and he had to credit Sam for pulling him out of the lethargy. Allen couldn't say it was grief or even mourning for the lieutenant himself. It was more starting to come out of the need for someone else to give him commands and to start expecting and seeking pleasure himself.

The irony was that it was Sam giving Allen roles to play and commands that was moving the young man not to need them so much anymore.

The basketball game was fine—and Allen did get propositions. This after all was a gay men's sports club. But there was nothing on offer that excited him and he was coming to realize that he needed and deserved excitement. Specifically, Larry, the cop, and his handcuffs and forceful fuck hadn't shown up.

Allen left in an "oh, well" mood. And he must not have been paying much attention because half way home a revolving red light pulled up behind his car and he saw that, indeed, he had been going ten miles over the speed limit. It was in a school zone too, but that didn't really matter. It was after 10:00 p.m., and the school was closed. Allen was guided over into the school parking lot and in side-by-side spaces under a stand of trees by the police van.

"Please step out of the car," an authoritative voice boomed out when Allen rolled down his window. The man with the voice was shining a light in Allen's face, blinding him, but Allen recognized the voice.

"Larry?" he said.

"Turn the ignition off, step out of the car, and go over to the back of the van."

As Allen walked to the back of the van, which wasn't a police vehicle—it just had a temporary red light on top of it—Larry stopped the light and tossed it in the front seat of the van.

The back of the van was tricked out with carpeting; soft lighting; music loud enough to, Larry said, drown out screams coming from inside the van; sex toys; and a restraint system. There also was a TV suspended on the window between the back of the van and the driver's compartment; it was running a DVD of a cop fucking a prisoner in the back of a police van.

Larry was wearing a police uniform, but, as Allen stripped down and got into the back of the van, Larry opened up his shirt, unzipped his trousers, climbed in the back behind Allen, and shut and locked the van doors.

Larry put Allen on his knees and made him lick all the way down from his hairy barrel chest, past his heavy belt with the gun and truncheon holsters, into his unruly pubes, and then to take the erect cock in his mouth and give it suck. Allen sucked the cock greedily, aroused by the fantasy fuck Larry was providing, which was better than Allen could have imagined himself for this evening.

Allen huffed and puffed, gasped, whimpered and his eyes watered, as, wrist handcuffed to ankle on either side, bowing his body almost painfully, Larry put Allen on his belly on a carpeted cube in the middle of the van bed, and fucked his ass with a greased nightstick while both watched the action on the TV screen.

Later, Allen now on his back and spread-eagled in four directions with leads going to anchors in the four corners of the van, Larry crouched between Allen's legs and fucked him to a mutual ejaculation.

It was what Allen had come out this evening hoping to find, so he didn't complain; he cried out for the exotic fuck.

The only damper of the evening was that, as Larry released him, Allen saw the store bag that the DVD cover was in. It came from Sam's Costume Dreamland. What was the relationship between Larry and Sam, Allen wondered. Was this all part of the education program Sam had set up for Allen? Was Larry part of the fantasy role playing, operating under Sam's command?

Was Larry even a real cop?

Allen was so taken by this experience that, frankly, at this moment he didn't care.

* * * *

On Saturday afternoon, Jack called Allen in a panic.

"You'd said maybe I could come over today. It's the Army-Navy football game. You haven't answered my e-mails, though."

"I wasn't sure I wasn't doing something else today," Allen said.

"Doing something more important than me? You love me fucking you."

"You've got a great cock, Jack. But you're not using it enough on me. Yes, I love what you do to me for the six or seven minutes you're doing it to me. If you come over, you'll have to give me more of a fuck than that—and pay attention to me when you're doing it."

"Hey, I'm aching for you here. My balls ache they need it so bad. Nobody takes it like you do."

"Maybe because nobody but me lets the ball game take priority. And I'm not doing that anymore either. I've got a great meal planned for you, but if you're coming over, it will be early, before the game, to be pumping inside me for fifteen minutes at least and giving me attention when you do—and you have to get this done before I feed you—and before the game starts. And after the game, you have to take me into my bedroom and bang the hell out of me. You might even have to spend the night on top of me."

"Is that what you really want? I don't know what's come over you. You want me to—?"

"Take me into my bedroom, yes—no TV, no competing attention—and bang the hell out of me."

Allen watched Jack unfold from his new, blue Porsche Carrera convertible—seemingly identical to the old one except for the color—and walk up to the front door. He was carrying a bottle of wine, but he didn't do the old "fuck you" routine with it. He looked quizzical and a little worried. And he'd arrived an hour and a half before the coverage of the Army-Navy college football game was scheduled to start on the TV.

Allen met him at the door. "Here, strip, and put these on. Leave the waistband flared and your cock out. You get a blow job for showing up early." He handed Jack a pair of combat boots and camouflage baggy fatigue trousers.

"What's this . . . and what are you—?"

"It's Army-Navy game day. And we're going to play a game of our own. You're Army and I'm Navy. Good news; it's your lucky day. Army gets to fuck the shit out Navy today."

The lower half of Army fatigues had gone to Jack. Allen had met him at the door, wearing the naval uniform he'd bought at the costume store: a white tunic, with blue scarf, white bellbottom trousers, and a seaman's cap.

"Here. While you're dressing, I'll go ahead of you and strip off the bellbottoms." When he did so, he was wearing his red silk jock strap. "Remember this jock strap. Last time you fucked me without taking it off me. This time you have to take it off me—and get me hard and make me come in the process—before there's any dinner or the TV is turned on."

Jack sat at the dining room table, his hands on Allen's head under the table top as Allen knelt between his thighs and his mouth bobbed up and down on Jack's erection. Jack moaned in a way he'd never done before. Much of this was because a quarter of the way through the blow job Allen took his mouth off the cock and wove a tale from underneath the table of what they were doing.

"Since you were here last, I learned a thing or two about the erotic help role playing can give to a fuck. I want more out of you, Jack, and I know you have it to give. In turn, I can take you higher than you've been before—I can give you a high that surpasses your football team winning on the TV.

"We are playing private Army and Navy, you and I. For starters, this blow job starts off our game. I'm going to work your cock until you come. But you aren't going to come right away. When you want to, I'm going to back you off, and then when I resume, I'm going to take you higher than you went before when you wanted to shoot. And then again."

Jack moaned, not only in anticipation of the play but also because Allen was stroking his cock and pressing his pinkie finger into Jack's piss slit.

"What we are playing is a Naval admiral coming to visit an Army installation. I am the admiral's young aide. I am a virgin, but I am aching to be debauched and I have decided the time is now and the lover who will pop my male cherry is you. You are a handsome, young Army lieutenant, the general's aide who is immediately turned on by me. We are meeting at the officers' club. One wing of the officers' club has visiting bachelor officers' bedrooms.

"While the general and admiral confer at one end of a conference table, you and I have exchanged needy looks at the other end of the table. I slip under the table and give you a blow job. The general and admiral, although their presence heightens our arousal, don't know what's happening under the table. It's a fantasy; they don't need to know. You then carry me to the BOQ and have your way with me. Every position you take me in—and they should be athletic and exotic—I'll give you a different form of a Cowboy ride.

"We will count the times we come."

With Jack groaning the effects of anticipation of this role play, Allen quickly completed the blow job. "One for you."

In the bedroom, fully invested in the role play, Jack tied Allen's wrists together with a belt while Allen protested that he didn't really mean for his teasing to go as far as a cock the size of Jack's up his ass—and Jack just laughed at his protests. He then tied the other end of the belt to one of the legs of the bed at its foot. Allen's body was stretched up the bed, and Jack moved Allen's left thigh over his right leg, giving a reclining Jack access to Allen's hole. Jack moved the butt crease strap of the jock strap aside and ate out Allen's ass until he was begging for more. Slipping the jock strap off Allen then, Jack turned him, returned the favor of the blow job, alternating with the sucking of Allen's cock. He finger fucked Allen's hole while sucking him off.

"One for you," Jack announced at Allen blew his load with a jerk and a whimper.

"Number two coming for me," Jack declared. Pulling Allen up to his knees, his ass high in the air, Jack mounted and rode him high in a bulldog fuck.

Maintaining Jack's interest, Allen rode his cock in a reverse Cowboy, Allen riding a reclined Jack while facing his feet. Taking advantage of reverse positions, Jack put Allen on his belly, couched Allen's head between his feet, grabbed Allen's ankles with his hands, and fucked Allen's passage in reverse.

Number two for Jack; numbers two and three for Allen.

They fucked through dinner. They fucked through the Army-Navy game. They fucked through twilight and into the night.

They slept in starts and stops between fuckings, but Jack never suggested they leave the bed to do anything else—other than Jack fucking Allen on top of his dresser and, again, with Allen belly down on an ottoman.

They lost count, and by morning, they didn't give a shit how many times it had been for either of them. They just knew they both liked playing this game with each other.

"What can we do next time?" Jack asked.

"I'll see if a can scare up pirate captain and cabin boy outfits," Allen answered, knowing already that Sam's Costume Dreamland stocked them.

"Saturday after next again?" Jack asked, his face showing a puppy dog expression.

"How about next Saturday?" Allen said.

"Even better," Jack responding, doing a convincing version of a dog pant.

Allen was exhilarated. He was getting what he wanted from Jack now. This should satiate him, he thought.

But on Monday morning he went to the mailbox on the street in front of his house only to pull out another misdelivered envelope addressed to Sam Strang on Oak Street. Down in the corner on the flap side were written the words, "Three on one hiker." Under that was written, "Belleview Park parking lot, Wednesday, 5:30 pm."

Three? he thought. Sam, Jamil, and Phil? Out in the woods. All of them on me? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I can't wait.

And, indeed, when, at 6:45 on Wednesday night, when Jamil pulled out of him and turned him onto his back in the mossy patch between two oak tree roots and Allen, his hiking shorts gone and his hiking shirt torn to shreds on his body, looked up at the twice-spent cocks of the other men standing over him, Sam and Phil, Allen could only purr and bend and spread his legs to beg for thirds.