Policed in Three Acts

I’d thought it had been winding down in my apartment. Buddy was between my legs, in a missionary. My handcuffed hands were over my head, gripping the rungs of the brass headboard. Buddy was finished jerking and spouting. Shit these two were virile and perpetually good to go. Chuck, showered, and mostly dressed, all done except for buttoning up his cop shirt over his hunky, muscular chest, stood in the doorway of my bedroom, leaning into the doorframe, a cellphone to his ear.

“Yeah, I got a good one right here,” he said into the phone. “I’ll see if he’ll do it.”

Buddy was rising from me, headed toward the bathroom for his shower. I thought they were done. I was lying there where he left me, on my back, arms over my head, legs splayed and bent, feet flat on the mattress, cum dribbling out of a hole that had been reamed gaping by two monster cocks. It had been some time since I’d come, but I was satiated, and it was still a thrill to have the two big bruisers tag teaming between my legs and inside me. They seemed to have an unending supply of cum. I was mellow, blowing bubbles and babbling softly to myself.

“You ever been gangbanged?” Chuck asked, lowering the cellphone to his shoulder. It took me a couple of seconds to realize he was talking to me.