Hardon Family 03: Park Patrol

by Marc Tremaine

Copyright© 1997. All rights reserved.

Erotica Sex Story: Paul and Rob are cops. It's night, and after a day in the park, warning off the straight couples who were fucking, and arresting the queers, they need two more to meet their quota. But there's just one guy in the usually active toilet, and two is better. That way they each get a blowjob before they arrest the fag's ass. Hot damn. Their lucky night. Some young guy goes in. Wait for it, wait, give them time to get started. No arrest without a hardon. Now. Paul heads in.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma   Ma/mt   mt/mt   Gay   Incest   Uncle   Nephew   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   .

WARNING: This story is a product of imagination; it is not a depiction of real life. It involves sexual acts between two or more males of the human species. If you are offended by that idea or its explicit description, regardless of whether it's the act that offends you, or the age or relationship of the participants, don't read this story. If writing about any type of sex between males is illegal in your nation, or in your particular municipality, county, state, province, or other political subdivision, don't read this story. If your age makes it illegal to read this story, don't read this story.

Copyright© 1997. All rights reserved. You have the right to download this story to keep on your computer, and to print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and copyright notice. You do not have the right to otherwise reproduce or repost this story. You do not have the right to rewrite this story. You do not have the right to use this story to make any amount of money for yourself or anyone else. If you do not understand these rights as I have listed them for you, my address is above: ask before acting.

The two men got out of the car and quietly moved through the trees into a small clearing. They were hidden from view except for the light of the full moon filtering through the branches. Setting their bundles down, they began to strip. At first, their backs were toward each other, but by the time they set their tee-shirts down next to their sneakers and socks, like opposite poles of magnets, they had rotated enough to be able to see each other.

The older, taller man was in his middle thirties; heavy-set, thick-waisted, short dark hair, a neatly-trimmed mustache, well-muscled, hairy-chested. His thighs bulged in the tight jeans. The other man was ten years younger, and at six feet, only two inches shorter; slender, with a swimmer's build; light brown hair, blue eyes. They weren't directly facing each other, but each one knew he was being watched. There was a pause. The younger one hefted his balls, and then began to slowly unzip. The older man followed suit. A moment later they were naked.

There was another pause. The young one scratched his balls again, beneath a lengthening cock. "Don't take too long in there, okay?"

The older man squatted and picked up a pair of boxer shorts and trousers, holding them in front of his crotch as he stood, hiding his own rising prick. He glanced at the other's half-hard dick. "Horny, Rob?"

Rob looked down at his almost-hard cock. "Yeah. Guess I haven't been getting enough pussy."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

"Well, shit, man, it's the truth! 'Sides, you've probably got a boner yourself. I mean, with all the fucking and sucking today..."

The older man chuckled. It was true. His own dick was swollen to full staff.

Rob gestured at the pants Paul was holding. "What's the mat­ter, Paul, ashamed of a hardon?"

"Fuck, no! Why? You want a look?"

"Hey, I'm no fag!" Rob angrily picked up his own shorts and trousers, but when he stood up, a shiny drop of precum was oozing from his dickhead. "And I've seen your goddamned meat before anyway! In the showers, takin' a piss..." Rob's voice trailed off. He was standing facing Paul, his long—very long—slender rod, with the large, bulbous head, clearly visible, rigid and pointing across the clearing. More precum leaked from the prick­head.

"But you were just wonderin' what my cock looked like with a hardon."

"So? You never wonder what another guy was like with a boner? Ah, screw it!" Rob's voice was a mixture of anger and defensiveness as he started to turn away. He stopped when Paul moved his pants aside and took a step forward out of the shadows. Rob gulped silently. Paul's prick was enormous in the moonlight! It wasn't as long as Rob's cock, but much, much thicker, and uncircumcised. It was pointing up from a dense forest of crotch hair at almost a 45-degree angle.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other and then at each other's cocks, before simultaneously breaking the looks and turning away to resume dress­ing. Rob's voice was embar­rassed. "Look, Paul, I..."

"Don't worry about it. Today made me horny, too."

Their still half-hard pricks were bulges in their dark blue pants, as they put socks and shiny black shoes on. "Maybe we'll get lucky. Get our rocks off to­night."

"Yeah. I could use it."

Rob laughed softly as he buttoned up his shirt. "Well, age before beauty!"

"Right, kid! I'll go first."

They tugged hats into place and the two police officers walked back to the car to put their plainclothes outfits in the trunk. They got back into the front seat and turned their atten­tion to the outdoor toilet just down the hill. They didn't have long to wait. It was only a couple of minutes later when a tall man, with very broad shoulders, wearing a tank top, very short running shorts, and shoes with no socks, hurried along the path and into the john.

Rob groped his stiffening cock. Paul didn't move from the driver's seat. "C'mon, buddy! I need a goddamned blow job!"

"Give him a chance to get set."

"Shit! He'll see there's no one inside and leave!"

"Nope, he'll wait. So will we. We need two more arrests to make quota, not just one."

The park had been active that day. It had started with finding the skinny eighteen-year-old fucking the thirty-year-old brunette on a blanket off in the woods—but not far enough off in the woods to evade the two cops. They'd watched the kid's pale, bony ass pumping whitely up and down, his jockey shorts and jeans twisted around his legs, and when they figured he was about to come, they'd stepped into the clearing. At the sound of Paul's deep voice asking what was going on, the kid yanked out of the woman's pussy and promptly began spraying jism everywhere. The boy tried to hide himself, but only got his hands sticky with his own cum. After checking id's—while both the fuckers were still half-naked—they'd let them off with a warning to be more dis­creet.

The next sexually active pair got arrested. All the two men were doing was playing with each other, but that was enough to get them for indecent exposure. For a while Rob and Paul had separated, and both wound up with two more arrests, their bulging crotches leading the men on the park trails to suggest fucking or sucking. Then, just as it was starting to get dark, they found another pair of fuckers. A young white man was bent over a log, bracing himself, while an older black guy was ramming a huge prick in out and of the white butthole. Paul and Rob waited again until the one on top was about to come before stepping in and arresting them. They cuffed the black guy with his hands behind his back, and his still hard rod jutting out of his pants.

He tried to brazen it out as they led him toward the waiting paddy wagon, strutting along, but when they got to the point where they'd have to go through an open space with lots of peo­ple, he got panicky and begged them to let him get dressed. Rob taunted the faggot for a while, but said he was too dangerous to let loose. Rob yanked open the man's shorts, pulled them down, and then roughly stuffed the black meat inside and pulled them up again. He squeezed the fat dick hard, but even though the guy winced with momentary pain, he smiled as the backup officers arrived. The one who'd had the dick up his ass just kept on cry­ing as he was led away.

At night, they preferred being in uniform. It was a great feeling to surprise the fags by pulling a badge when they were dressed in jeans and tee-shirts, but it was a real kick to see the queers panic when a cop in full uniform, including gun, sud­denly loomed up out of the darkness. So they'd changed clothes and were back at the car near a very active toilet.

"Yeah, but it's late. Nobody..."

But somebody did. A man came out of the trees and hovered in the shadows, before moving rapidly into the john. They got a quick glimpse of curly, shoulder-length hair and a very slender body dressed pretty much the same as the first man.

"Okay, okay, bastard! So you were right."

Paul smiled and got out of the car. Rob followed, and whis­pered as they got near the door, "Look, leave one for me, huh? Fags like to come when they're suckin' cock, so I want one of them good and horny for me." Paul nodded. "You gonna fuck one? Or get a blow job?"

"Let's see what comes up!" Paul whispered back. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Yeah, well, keep the uniform clean!"

Paul almost laughed out loud at the joke. On this detail, you got razzed more back at the station if you came back without cum spots, than if your pants were stained and sticky with jism. Paul even remembered several years ago when he'd returned after a particularly good haul, a very large cum stain on the crotch of his tight faded jeans. Fags sure beat broads when it came to sucking dick! One of the other officers had really gone on about the fags in the park, but a few minutes later, when he thought Paul was in the shower, Paul had seen the officer quietly open Paul's locker and sniff the cum stain on the jeans and lick it. He had a raging hardon underneath his towel. So did Paul! Paul had stepped back into the john to quickly beat off a load into the urinal, only to find that the other officer had the same idea!

Paul just stood there with his hand wrapped around his meat, and then de­cided fuck it! The cop was another man and screw him if he couldn't take a joke! Paul looked away from the second cop and went on working his prick. When he glanced up again as he got near to blasting his wad he saw the second cop a urinal away, pumping his own prick. Their eyes met for a moment, and then they concen­trated on watching the other beat his meat before they each shot a tremendous load into the toilets. The second cop wiped his dickhead clean with his fingertips, and then licked off his own cum. Paul had never tried that, but he did. It was almost enough to get him hard again. He closed his eyes as he finished the licking, and when he opened them, the cop was gone. Paul never saw him again.

All the sights and sounds of the day, plus the memories—plus the sight of his partner's hardon, though he wouldn't admit it to himself—had Paul really in the mood for a good cum as he quietly eased the door of the john open and stepped in. The lights were off, as usual, but there was just enough moonlight through the narrow skylight in the ceiling for Paul to see what was going on.

It was a fantastic sight. The heavier built man was stand­ing in front of one of the two urinals, his arms and legs spread wide, as if he were being searched. From what Paul could see, he was well-muscled. His tanktop was bunched underneath his arm­pits, and although he still had his shoes on, his shorts were on the floor next to his left foot. Paul couldn't see too much more of his body because the second one—a teenager, he suddenly real­ized—was standing behind the man and clearly screwing the guy's asshole.

The boy was almost naked, with his shirt somewhere out of sight, and his shorts down around his ankles. His slender body appeared to be painted a cool blue by the moonlight as his mag­nificent, tiny asscheeks clenched and unclenched with each stroke up the man's butt. The man's deep voice suddenly whispered, "Oh, yeah, baby, fuck that man-hole. Shove that boy-prick up there. Fuck me, baby, fuck me good."

The voice made the boy writhe against the man's back, and he reached around in front, clearly trying to grab the man's prick.

"Oh, baby, that feels so fine. Play with that dick while you're fuckin' that ass. Nice, tight man-ass for a stud boy to fuck. Work that dick, boy, work it!"

Paul knew he wouldn't have to worry about stains on his pants. He was already leaking precum like a son of a bitch, and his dick wasn't even out of his pants yet.

"Want some company, guys?"

At the sound of Paul's whisper from the shadows, the kid stopped fucking, but the man continued to squirm and shove his ass into the boy's crotch. "You got a big dick, man?" he asked without lifting his head.

"Big, fat, and hard," Paul answered.

"Great, man, great! C'mon over here and let me suck that meat while the kid fucks me. You like to fuck?"

The sound of Paul's zipper was almost loud in the john. "Yeah. Go on, kid, keep fucking," Paul continued to whisper. He wasn't sure why he wasn't talking out loud, as he pulled his dripping cock and large balls out of his pants. The boy was clearly turned on again, as he began pumping the standing man's hole. Paul stepped forward, with his gun out. "What I like most, though..."

He was close enough now that he could stretch out his left hand and stroke the boy's sweat-gleaming butt as the kid crammed the asshole in front of him. He did! The boy didn't look back, but just pumped harder.

The man getting fucked moaned. "Well? What do you like most?"

"Getting sucked ... and then arresting the faggot. That really turns me on."

The two fuckers were shocked into immobility. The panic-stricken teenager looked over his shoulder at Paul. All the cop could see was the curly hair, and the wide gleam of frightened eyes and an impression of masculine beauty. What the kid saw was an enormous cop draped in shadows, with moonlight shining off his badge, and the gun in his right hand and the massive spear of meat jutting out from his fly.

"Suck me, kid." Paul's whisper was rough and commanding.

"I ... I don't..."

"Well, you little fag, you do now!" Paul grabbed the boy by the long curly hair, digging into his scalp, yanked him away from the unknown man—who was strangely quiet—and forced the kid to kneel on the dusty floor of the john. Paul was really getting off on this. He was standing directly behind the other man, his prick lined up with the slick hole; his right hand, still holding the gun, resting on the man's back, and his left hand on top of the kneeling boy's head. He turned to his left and forced the boy's head down to the huge cop-dick.

"Suck, boy-fag. Get me nice and hard, so your queer buddy can see what it feels like to have a man's dick up his ass. And you, queer, just stay right where you are." Paul had turned to his left and his left hand was at the back of the kid's head, pushing those tender boy-lips toward his prick. The boy was ter­rified, but he was still resisting! Paul was impressed in spite of himself.

"Do a good job, kid, and maybe I'll let you and your friend go."

The boy hesitated, and then opened his mouth. Paul slid his dick in very slowly, letting the boy get used to it. He began pumping then, and the kid began cooperating, bobbing his head up and down on the cop-meat. And even though he was afraid, the boy found he still had a hardon. He began stroking his own dick. Within moments, he was breathing heavily around the mandick in his mouth and his throat relaxed, and suddenly he had all of it! His nose was buried in the funky, musky smell of the cop's crotch.

Paul's legs sagged a little. It wasn't often he got a blow­job from somebody who could swallow all of his meat, and the warm, wet boymouth was really turning him on. But he'd decided he wanted to really get his rocks off, and that meant a hard, rough fuck of some fag ass. Gently, he pulled away from the boy's mouth, and turned back to the man.

"Stand up, kid." The boy stood and Paul could now see the boy's rigid cock, with the kid lightly stroking it. It was pretty impressive. "How old are you?"


"Huh." Paul reached out with his left arm and pulled the kid close. He was thinking that this was really weird shit! He'd gotten his rocks off before with a quick fuck or suck, but he'd never done anything like this ... and none of the previous times had turned him on this way, either! He pressed his sticky cockhead against the man-hole in front of him, and it opened eas­ily, welcoming his dickhead in, the assring clamping smoothly down around him.

This was some experienced hole! Paul was almost ready to come from the hot asswalls clenching his prick. He was too horny to wait. He began with short, hard strokes and the man just shoved his strong, hard-muscled butt back to meet them. "C'mon, man, gimme that big meat. Shove it home and shove it hard! Ride that fucking hole!"

Paul could feel the kid squirming at his side, beating his own meat, and prob­ably leaving trails of precum on the side of his pants. That was gonna be something to explain back at the station. Paul yanked his dick out of the hole, leaving it gaping and the man gasping, while Paul efficiently unbuckled his pants and dropped them and his shorts down to his knees. He was just about to ram his dick home again, when the kid leaned over and took him in his mouth, sucking and slobbering. Paul pulled him away before he came in the kid's mouth, and shoved the asshole full of copmeat again.

They'd all forgotten the threats, and the gun. The man getting fucked was breathing heavily and shoving his butt back to meet the hard ramming thrusts up his shitter, and beating his meat. The boy was writhing against Paul's left leg, playing with Paul's butt, feeling him up where he was sliding in and out of the asshole. And then Paul leaned down, lifted the kid's face toward him—and to his surprise, and the kid's, kissed the boy!

It made him harder and hornier! And the kid was going crazy! His tender boylips were pressed hard against Paul's; their tongues and spit were being frantic­ally exchanged; the boy was whimpering in ecstasy as Paul's left hand roamed all over his body, tweaking his tits, kneading and pinching his butt, sliding a fingertip in his tight, unused hole. The three of them were kissing, and fucking, and beating meat, and getting ready for an incredible cum.

And the lights came on!

No one had heard Rob come in. No one had heard his gasp of surprise as he saw his stud partner drop his pants and not only start fucking some fag ass, but start kissing a young boy! Jesus, no wonder Paul was so good at his job, Rob had thought. He's a fucking fag! And then he realized he had to do something about it, or he'd get accused of the same thing when Paul was finally caught.

With his gun drawn, he flipped the lights on. The shock the first two had felt when Paul came in was nothing to the earth­quake results when the lights came on. Rob was the first to react. "You rotten pervert! Fucking with your own son!"

Both Paul and the boy had been blinded for a moment by the bright light, but father and son found themselves staring at each other from only inches apart. The boy's lips were pink and puffy, glistening with spit, his mouth partly open. He began to blush—a bright red, full-body blush. He'd been sucking his father's dick! And kissing him! And his father was just stand­ing there, still with his dick inside some stranger's butthole, and one fingertip massaging his son's ass pucker.

Paul ignored his partner, and gazed intently into his son's eyes. "Were you enjoying yourself?"

"Christ, no! I..." He started to pull away, but Paul wouldn't let him.

"Truth, Dan. You don't lie to me."

The tears began spilling out of the boy's eyes. "Yeah." And even with the tears, and his dad's partner standing there pointing a gun at all of them, the boy's randy prick surged in his hand. Paul wiped away the tears, and pulled the boy's face close to his again. "So was I." Still staring open-eyed at each other, Paul slowly bent down, and for the first time, consciously kissed his hunky, sixteen-year-old son. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and pulled his dick out of the man's hole.

It was a strange sight when Paul turned back to face his angry partner. Paul was standing in front of a urinal, his pants and boxers around his ankles, his huge meat thrusting through his shirt tails, his hat still firmly on his head. To Paul's right was the man who'd been getting fucked. His body was incredibly muscled, and deeply tanned, except for the shining white butt cheeks. He was still leaning against the wall, and shaking a little. Paul's career was over, but he still found time to feel sorry for the man crying next to him. And then there was Dan, standing on the man's right, curly hair falling to his shoulders, his own sizable meat still hard, his running shorts and jock around his ankles.

Paul reached out to squeeze the man's shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry about this."

"Yeah, you queer son of a bitch, I bet you are. You'll be lucky if the guys don't run you out of town on a rail, with a pole up your butt! Fucking queer cop! And you, fag, turn around!"

Aftershocks are sometimes worse than earthquakes. This one was!

The man who had so enjoyed getting fucked pulled his tanktop off over his head, so he was completely naked except for his shoes. He was still shaking when he turned around, but not with tears—with laughter! Paul had been fucking his younger brother!

"Oh, Jesus! The whole family's queer!"

Mark laughed out loud. "Fuckin' right, Rob, at least as of tonight."

"You queer bastard!" Rob was shaking with anger. The knowledge that it was Mark seemed even more of a betrayal. They were almost the same age, and... "You've been over to my house! You ... we went camping, and fishing. Christ! We took a shower together! And all the time..."

"And all the time, you were watching my dick as much as I was watching yours."

"You lying shit! I never..."

"Bullshit, Rob!" Mark was still smiling, and incredibly, he was still hard as well. His dick was circumcised, and almost exactly the size of Paul's. Father and son had gone nearly soft, but not Mark! He began pumping his meat and Rob's eyes immedi­ately went to Mark's crotch. When he realized what he'd done, he focused back on Mark's face. Their eyes locked, and Mark must have seen something, because he smiled even more broadly.

Still playing with himself, Mark stepped toward Rob.

"Back off, faggot! You're under arrest. You have the right..."

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