BLACK STUD TURNS A STR8 COP INTO HIS FAGGOT

"Please Sean. There's something wrong, can't you look into it?" She asked.

"Look into what? Lucas acting weird?"

LAPD Detective Sean Brady sighed. When his stepson's wife, Lauren, had called him at work and asked to meet for lunch, it was a surprise to say the least. He wasn't especially close with his stepson, Lucas, or his daughter-in-law. So, when she said she wanted to speak to him about plans for Brady's upcoming forty-third birthday, he knew it was really about something else.

"He's not just acting weird, there's more to it than that. He's cold, distant, sometimes he locks himself in his study. And at least once a month, he's out all night, always with some pathetic excuse." She glanced round at the surrounding tables, checking that no-one was listening. "And we haven't ... you know ... not for months."

The detective winced; it was far more information than he had asked for. "So, you think he's having an affair?" Only after hearing the question out loud, did it occur to Brady just how hurtful it could be.

"Lucas isn't like that. He wouldn't cheat, he's not a player."

Brady managed to keep his face implacable. He thought back to what it had been like, nine years ago, when he first married Lucas' mother. His stepson was eighteen and he wasn't happy about suddenly having a thirty-three-year-old stepfather. For the first couple of years, they seemed to fight all the time, and the number one argument was the constant stream of girls that Lucas kept bringing to the house.

He was a good-looking boy; a talented athlete and he had some money in his pocket. All the girls liked him, and he liked them. It was understandable that he wanted to have a little fun. All his new stepfather had asked was, that he take it to a hotel, or her place, in fact anywhere, just keep it out of his house.

But the little punk just ignored him, sometimes bringing two girls back at the same time. It didn't help that no matter how hard Brady tried to discipline him, his wife Beverley, would always take her son's side. Things were strained there for a while, but thankfully, Lucas decided to go to college and become an accountant. Once they weren't living together, the two men were able to come to an uneasy truce.

Hearing Lauren now extolling Lucas' virtue was severely testing the detective's poker face.

"I'm sorry, but I had to ask." His voice apologetic. "What do you want me to do?"

Deep down, Brady just didn't want to get involved.

"You're a cop, isn't there a number you can call or something?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, there isn't a number I can call, or a database somewhere that will tell me all his secrets. If you really want me to find out what's going on, then I'll have to start prying into your private business. That's how real policework is done."

Her eyes dropped down, staring at her coffee on the table. Brady could see from the look on her face that she hadn't even considered the reality of what she was asking him to do.

"Are you ready for me to go digging through your bank records, credit card statements, you name it." He said, confident this was going to put her off.

With a sudden burst of decision, she answered. "Yes, yes I am. I need to know."

"Are you absolutely sure? Because once you know something, there's no going back.

"I'm sure."

"You better be." Brady said resignedly. "Okay I'll help you. But on one condition. Regardless of what I find, whether it's everything or nothing, you don't tell my wife or Lucas that I was the one who found it."

"Thank you." She said hurriedly, worrying that he might change his mind.

***

Brady arranged a time to visit the house when his stepson wouldn't be home. If Lucas was locking himself in his study, then that seemed an obvious place to start. After reassuring Lauren that he would tell her if he found something that she needed to know, she finally agreed to let him search on his own. Everybody in a marriage has secrets, and Brady figured that even a pain in the ass like Lucas was entitled to keep some of his.

It was a typical guy's study. In the corner there was a small green filing cabinet. Along the back wall were bookshelves with office-related textbooks, trashy action and thriller novels and some DVDs. In the centre of the room, was a large wooden desk with framed photographs and ornaments (that were obviously gifts), and dominating the desktop was Lucas' computer, an iMac.

He sat down at the desk and started rummaging through the drawers. There was plenty of pieces of paper, old batteries, pens, and assorted clutter - but nothing of note. Brady turned on the computer and was surprised to see it didn't need a password. He placed his own laptop on the desk and plugged it into Lucas' machine. He clicked an icon and started the LAPD's own cyber-crime search program, and then began his own manual search of the computer's files and folders. To his suspicious amazement, his stepson's computer turned up completely clean. Not even a questionable browser history.

The detective turned his attention to the small green filing cabinet. He tried the drawers, they were locked. He scanned his eyes around the room, wondering where Lucas might have hidden the key. After a few moments, he returned to the desk and ran his hand along the smooth underside. Brady grinned when he felt the cold metal against his fingertips. The taped-on key peeled away without difficulty, and he returned to the filing cabinet, smiling when the key turned easily in the lock.

There was the usual stuff, marriage paperwork, birth certificates, medical insurance, all neatly filed. Sean flicked through the folders until he found the bank statements and then he lifted the entire folder out of the drawer. He sat down at the desk and started leafing through the statements. One thing jumped out at the detective straightaway, around a year ago, the month-on-month final balance had begun dropping fast.

Flicking from one statement to the next he noticed that there was a substantial transfer each month directly to a numbered bank account. For nine months, his stepson had made a transfer of $2500 to the account and in the last four months the monthly transfer had increased to $5000.

At this rate there was probably six months of cash in the account. Brady sat back and sighed, was Lucas squirreling his money away into a secret account, getting ready to divorce his wife? He noted the bank details, snapped a photo of the most recent statement, and returned the folder back to the cabinet.

As he did, he noticed a small black rectangle at the bottom of the cabinet drawer. Lifting it out, he realised it was a smartphone in a leather sleeve. When he tried to access it, the password pin-screen lit up, he could see the phone was almost at full charge.

He looked at the numbered keypad and then tried Lucas' date of birth, without success. Then he tried Lauren's birthday, his wife's, his own, none of them worked. The detective was eager to get into the phone, it was kept fully charged and locked up in a filing cabinet, it was obviously important. But if he couldn't crack the pin number, he would never know why. Then, Brady had an idea, he tried Lucas' biological father's birthday, and the lock screen melted away.

The detective had a quick scroll through the message apps, there was only one stored contact on the phone, but no messages. He checked for pictures, there were none, but there were nine randomly named video files. The curious detective clicked on the oldest video which was about a year old.

The first few minutes had nothing on them at all; just a high-definition static shot of a rather fancy looking apartment with a burned in date and time in the bottom-right hand corner, 4th April, 8:24 PM. Brady dragged his finger along the screen until the video showed two men walking into the room.

He viewed the video with a policemen's eye; one man was black, powerfully built, a little over six foot tall. He was wearing white sneakers, red running shorts and nothing else. The other man was white, roughly the same height as his friend, and rather incongruously wearing an expensive business suit. The quality of the recording meant that even on the palm sized screen of the phone it was easy to see the suited man was his stepson, Lucas. The two men were laughing, exchanging barely audible small talk. While the detective brought the phone closer, straining to hear what was being said, the two men started kissing.

Brady stopped breathing for a moment. He knew to expect the unexpected when you went digging into people's private affairs, but he wasn't expecting this.

He sat in the desk chair staring wide-eyed at the phone as he watched his stepson being led to a white leather couch in the middle of the room. The black man in running shorts broke their kiss by playfully pushing Lucas back onto the seat. Then slowly he sank to his knees in front of Lucas and lowered his head into his lap.

"Is Lucas secretly gay? If he is then it might explain his strange behaviour." He asked himself.

The camera was capturing the action side-on, and it was plain that Lucas wasn't being coerced. Brady could clearly hear his stepson muttering with approval as the kneeling man eagerly went to work on his cock. The man in red running shorts undoubtedly knew what he was doing, because it wasn't long until Lucas was groaning with pleasure. His head was tipped back, resting against the back of the couch, his mouth open, moaning in appreciation.

"Even if he's gay, why the bank payments? Is he planning to divorce Lauren?"

Sean's thoughts were interrupted, by another loud throaty groan from the phone. His eyes darted to the study door, worried that someone might walk in wondering what the noise was.

Suddenly, the detective was struck with the uncomfortable realisation that he was watching his stepson, having his cock sucked by another man. Like every other man in the world, the detective watched online porn from time to time. But he had never watched two men together before, he'd never even been curious to watch it. But this wasn't just two random guys, one of them was his stepson. His finger hung over the screen ready to stop it, but for some reason he didn't.

"Strange payments, hidden phones, pornographic videos. What is all this about?" If he was going to help Lucas, then he needed answers, not more questions.

The detective kept watching as the man in running shorts started to pull down Lucas' suit trousers. Brady's stepson helpfully raised his hips, feeding the kneeling black man more of his stiff prick at the same time. It looked intense, Lucas was throbbing hard and loving every second of it. The man in shorts was obviously incredibly good at sucking cock. As he considered this, Sean suddenly became aware of his cock swelling in his pants. Almost instantly, he blushed and embarrassedly stopped the video, unsettled by his body's reaction.

"Blackmail. That has to be the reason. Someone has gotten hold of these videos and is threatening to expose Lucas if he doesn't pay." It explained everything, he thought, happy to distract himself from the stirring in his crotch.

Satisfied with his new theory, Sean started to tidy things up, making sure to put everything back in its proper place. He was about to put the phone back when it occurred to him to copy the videos. He nodded to himself, it made sense to collect as much evidence as he could. Without another thought he plugged the phone into his laptop and copied the files onto a USB stick.

When he stepped out of the study, Lauren was waiting for him, her arms crossed.

"That didn't take long. Is that a good, or a bad sign?" She asked.

"So far, so good." He said, having no idea what to tell her.

With some rambling words and dismissive gestures, he made his excuses and left.

* * *

The detective went home that evening as usual. Over dinner, his wife Beverley, talked to him about something, but he wasn't listening. All the time she spoke, his mind drifted to the laptop bag and the USB stick within.

"What were those videos? And why when I was watching them did my cock start to get hard?"

After watching something boring and brainless on the television, they went to bed. It was the same old nightly routine, brush teeth, wash face, peck on the cheek, lights out.

After an hour in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to settle, he admitted to himself that it was useless. Unlike his wife, who was cheerfully snoring away in a frilly eye mask, he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. Being careful not to wake her, he slipped out of the bed and made his way downstairs. Collected his laptop, sat down in the lounge, opened the computer, and put in some earbuds.

After furtively glancing at the stairs one last time, he opened the first video and dragged the pointer to where he had left it earlier. Watching on the laptop, was more immersive. The image was so much bigger, he could see Lucas' expression, the rapture on his face as the kneeling man skilfully worked his cock. The sound was right in his ear, every moan and slurp. Sean felt his own manhood stiffening almost immediately. The slow patient blowjob looked unbelievably good.

It was clear the kneeling man's skills were making Sean's stepson very hot. Lucas was hurriedly loosening his tie, panting for breath. Constantly groaning with pleasure, he began peeling off the rest of his clothes, until he was completely naked.

After fifteen more minutes of skilful sucking, Lucas finally blew his load, right into the kneeling man's mouth. He roared loudly into Sean's earbuds as he came. The man in running shorts kept sucking, obviously swallowing his sauce, prolonging the intense orgasm until finally Lucas nodded that it was over. After a few more moments of patient licking, the man in running shorts calmy stood up and with a wink, walked away confidently, disappearing through a doorway.

The player turned black as the video ended, for a moment he considered closing the laptop, but even as he thought this he was staring at the next file in the folder.

Sean could see on the computer that the next video was ninety-four minutes long. He clicked on it and instantly saw from the timestamp, that it followed directly on from the first video on the same day. The man in red running shorts walked into the bedroom and Lucas wasn't far behind.

For the next hour and a half Sean watched unblinking as his stepson was licked, sucked, and fucked in every conceivable way that he could imagine and in quite a few that he couldn't. The detective was amazed by Lucas' black companion, Lucas wasn't a small guy, but this man threw him round the bed like he was a toy. He never seemed to tire or need to rest after coming, he just kept going, like some inhumanly potent sexual athlete. The man fucked Lucas to a standstill and left his stepson sprawled motionless on the bed. Then he walked calmly out of shot, presumably for a drink or maybe a shower.

It was hard to tell if Lucas was exhausted, euphoric or both. But there was no ambiguity about the watching detective's own physical response; his cock was throbbing so hard it ached. He had thought about relieving himself several times during the video, but the thought of jacking off while watching two men fuck, let alone his own stepson, made him uncomfortable.

Brady decided to hunt down some girl-on-girl online porn to get off to. After just a few clicks he found a video, and a few seconds later, he got his release. It was a quick but very intense orgasm. His cock's hunger sated he made his way back up to bed. Half an hour later, his cock was raging hard again and before he had a chance to think about it, he slipped back downstairs to see what was on the third video.

* * *

When the alarm in the bedroom woke his wife, Sean had only been back in bed an hour. He had watched all nine videos and not got a wink of sleep.

Breakfast was quick, a coffee and some toast, another peck on the cheek and off to work. When he got there, he called his friend in the Commercial Crimes Division and ran the bank details. The information came back within five minutes, the account belonged to someone called Michael Terrell, and was registered to a very exclusive address down in Gallery Row. The guy had no priors, no aliases, nothing. Sean had spent last night hoping the account would be in his stepson's name - it would have made everything so much simpler. With each turn, he became more certain that Lucas was being blackmailed.

Sean tried desperately not to think about last night. If he tried hard enough, he could almost convince himself that it had been a strange dream. The sooner this matter was settled the sooner things could get back to normal and he could delete those files and delete some unsettling feelings along with them. He decided that he would go and see the mysterious Mr. Michael Terrell tonight, flash his badge, and scare off the bastard who was blackmailing his stepson.

* * *

Detective Sean Brady looked at the address again to make sure. He knew it was an exclusive address, but he hadn't anticipated a private penthouse elevator. It was a little after nine o'clock and he had told his wife he was going out for a drink with a few of the guys. It was Friday night after all, it was a reasonable excuse. That should give him enough time to scare off this blackmailer and then get his head together before heading home.

He buzzed the intercom, waiting impatiently as it trilled repeatedly at him. Finally, a calm voice came through the speaker.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so, are you Michael Terrell?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Detective Sean Brady, LAPD."

"Well in that case I guess you better come up."

The doors of the private elevator opened, and he stepped inside. It might be exclusive, but it wasn't fast, the elevator took nearly a minute to go up eleven floors to the top.

As the door opened a sweaty middle-aged man, with sparse hair was coming down the hallway of the apartment. He was dressed in what looked like an expensively tailored grey suit, but even then, it still didn't fit him very well.

"Michael Terrell?" Asked Brady.

"Eh, no." The man replied, his voice annoyingly nasal.

He pushed past in a hurry and pressed the button to close the doors.

The hallway of the apartment was surprisingly old fashioned, with white mock-cornicing and cream painted walls. Ornate mirrors were hung on either side, all the way down the corridor. As he walked down, the detective looked left and right and was greeted by the infinite repetition of his reflection vanishing into the depths of the mirrors.

"Hello?" He called out. A little nervous that there seemed to be no-one there to meet him.

Somewhere in the background. non-descript saxophone music played quietly. There was a feint scent of musk or cologne in the air. Upon reaching the main room at the end of the corridor, Brady stopped dead in his tracks. He instantly recognised the room with its white leather sofa from Lucas' videos.

Sitting in an armchair, the other side of a table from the sofa, was the sexual athlete of last night's viewing. He was looking right at Brady, smiling confidently. It was unmistakably the man in red running shorts. But now, he was wearing baggy silk lounge trousers. The sheer white fabric contrasted with the dark skin of his exposed muscled torso. He was sitting with his legs crossed confidently, holding a heavy glass tumbler of scotch in his hand.

Now that the detective could see him in person, Brady thought he was a little taller than he seemed on the video, maybe 3 inches over six foot tall. He looked roughly 210 pounds, all of it toned, lean muscle, there was scarcely a scrap of fat on him. Mr Terrell was even more physically impressive in person than he had been on the video.

The detective cursed himself for not realising that the man in the video and the blackmailer could be one and the same - it was an obvious possibility.

"So, detective. How can I help the LAPD?" Terrell said. He had an air of quiet authority about him.

"Well, I have a few questions to ask you." Said Detective Brady, pulling himself together.

Terrell sized up the unexpected detective; he was in his early forties, grey at the temples, six foot tall, in pretty decent shape, he looked like a runner. The gold wedding band told him the cop was married.

"Of course, why don't you pour yourself a drink."

The detective knew the cliché about drinking on duty, but this wasn't exactly official business. Without speaking Brady walked over to the side and poured himself a scotch with ice and sat down opposite him.

"I do hope I haven't upset your plans." Said Brady gesturing over his shoulder down the corridor.

"No detective, it's nothing that can't be rescheduled." Terrell swirled his drink, the ice rattling in the glass. "As I said, how can I help?"

"Well, it's a very delicate matter."

"Sounds interesting." He said, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

"How long have you been running this little blackmail scam of yours."

He laughed loudly and took a drink. "Who am I supposed to be blackmailing?"

"A man called Lucas Grant."

"Who's that?" He said, nonchalantly.

The detective sighed; Mr. Terrell was not easily rattled. Normally when a cop flashed his badge and acted with authority, people got nervous, but not this man.

"Just to be clear, you're claiming you do not know Lucas Grant." Said Brady with a raised eyebrow.

"Mmm-hmm, that's exactly what I'm saying." Replied Terrell, completely unruffled.

"This says you do." Said Brady, as he reached into his pocket and produced the USB stick.

He had intended to use this gambit later, but he thought it might be the quickest way to unbalance his host.

"And what's on that?"

Brady didn't answer, he simply walked over to the large TV on the wall and plugged the stick in. Without waiting, Terrell picked up the remote and pressed play on the video. Instantly the screen flickered, then showed the room they were sitting in, the detective glanced over his right shoulder and saw the little black camera in the corner.

A few seconds later, Terrell saw himself on screen, and then the other man. A look of recognition passed over his face, followed by a slight sigh of resignation. Brady let the action start properly before beginning his questioning, hoping it would unsettle his over-confident host.

"So, you don't know each other. That's what you're telling me?"

He watched for a few moments before answering. "Man, that was a long time ago detective."

"So, you do know Lucas." Brady said.

"Obviously, we know each other." He said nodding at screen. His head was disappearing into Lucas' lap.

"Then why deny it."

"It's called discretion detective."

"How did you meet him." Brady asked, delighted to be getting some answers at last.

"We go to the same gym; Lucas took a liking to me. It didn't take long to persuade him to become one of my sponsors."

"Sponsors?"

"Yeah, I like to live the high life detective and to do that I need sponsors."

"Are you telling me you're just some kind of high-class whore."

"I don't like that word detective."

"Well what word would you prefer?" He asked, irritated by the deflection.

"I prefer to call myself a stud. Monday through Friday is for my sponsors, but my weekends are my own."

Brady glanced over his shoulder at the hallway behind him. "The guy who just left?"

"Yeah, he was my Friday."

"I'm curious, just how much have I cost you?" Brady asked.

"Nothing, they pay in advance, I'll make it up to him another time." He said with a confident smile, his air of quiet authority had returned.

"So, how much did he pay?" Asked Brady. He knew the answer from the bank statements, but for some reason he wanted to hear him say it.

"Same as the rest, $2500 for the night. How do you know Lucas?"

"You're very expensive."

"I'm very good." He said with an aura of undeniable charisma. "You didn't answer my question detective, how do you know Lucas?"

"Who says I know him." Brady couldn't seem to get control of the conversation, he felt like a mouse to Terrell's cat.

"Only me and Lucas have that video, so you must know him."

"He's my stepson." Said Brady, surprised at himself for answering. "I thought I knew him. But obviously I don't, hell I thought he was straight."

"But Lucas is straight detective."

"Obviously not."

Terrell shook his head. "All my sponsors are straight detective, they're the best customers." He paused enjoying the look on Brady's face. "You take a guy, in a tired, stale marriage, get his cock harder than it has been in years, and then remind him what it feels like to really come. And sooner or later, straight, or not, whether he likes it or not, he'll be back. He just can't stay away."

"Really come?" Asked Brady, without thinking.

"Yeah you know, back when they were first dating their ladies, the sex was hot and heavy. Hell, sometimes she'd suck his dick just because it was hard. But once she gets that ring on her finger, that's the end of that. Then she's telling him; she's had a bad day at work, she's got a sore head, or she's just too tired to suck his cock tonight."

Brady squirmed on the sofa.

"Sure, when it's your birthday, she'll put her mouth down there, but it's always over before it really gets started." Terrell saw the effect his words were having on Brady and decided to be even more direct. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you detective. When was the last time your lady licked her way up and down your cock, worshipped every vein and ridge, sucked you down real deep? All night, Over and over."

Brady tried to conceal a gulp. "That's not the point, Mr. Terrell. The point is ..." Brady was stumbling over his words. "The point is, that you need to stop seeing Lucas. He's got a wife and you need to leave him alone."

"Lucas is a big boy; I think he gets to make his own decisions."

The conversation went back and forth like this for the next ten minutes. Brady would make his case for Terrell to stop seeing his stepson, and each time the confident stud would bring the subject back to sex. Even as they talked, Terrell kept calling the detective's attention to moments on the video commenting on his own prowess.

Each time he did, Brady tried to keep his composure and stay on point, but he was beginning to realise that playing the videos had been a mistake. It was supposed to unsettle Terrell, but it was having the opposite effect. It was the detective that was struggling to concentrate. Realising this, Brady tried to force the issue.

"Mr Terrell, are you going to leave my stepson alone or not?" Brady asked him.

"Please Detective, call me Michael."

"Will you just answer the question." He said, frustrated at Terrell's evasions.

"Is that what you want?" Asked Terrell, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Is that all you want, detective?" As he said the word all, Terrell placed his hand on the sizable bulge in his own trousers.

Brady began to speak but nothing came out. Terrell smiled, his dark fingers beginning to knead his sizable cock through the sheer white fabric of his trousers. The detective suddenly felt his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He stirred nervously on the sofa, his eyes darting between the hallway and Terrell's powerful groping hand as it massaged a steadily swelling bulge.

"Did you watch the whole video before you came here tonight detective?" He asked.

The detective nodded in reply to his question, almost transfixed by the outline of the growing cock as the black stud continued to pleasure himself.

"It got you real hard, didn't it?"

Brady was frozen. Paralysed.

Putting on a show, Terrell slowly pushed his thighs apart, continuing to work his cock through his trousers, making it harder and longer with each steady stroke. Then while staring at the mesmerised detective, he slid his hand under the elastic of his silk trousers, grasping his cock under the sheer white fabric.

"Did you get off to it?" He asked, smiling at the paralysed policeman. He lifted his cock underneath the fabric, enjoying the way Brady stared at the white silk tent.

This interview, if he could call it that, had gotten completely away from the detective. Brady realised that the best thing he could do now was get out of this strange man's apartment as fast as he could. Very suddenly, the detective got to his feet and made for the elevator. Without looking back, he walked quickly down the hallway to the elevator. Brady pressed the down button, breathing heavily, trying to compose himself.

Suddenly he remembered the USB stick. When he turned to go back for it, he saw Terrell walking calmly towards him down the hallway. A proud tent in the front of his silk trousers, swayed from side to side.

"Why the rush detective? My time is all paid for, and the night is young." He said confidently.

"I'm not gay Mr. Terrell, I'm straight."

"So am I Detective, and so is Lucas. There are no conversions going on here. All we're talking about is sex, no strings, guilt-free sex. Pleasure purely for its own sake." He said slowly moving towards Brady.

"You're blackmailing my stepson."

"No, I'm fucking your stepson." He said biting his bottom lip. "And Lucas loves every minute of it."

Brady stepped back bumping against the elevator doors behind him. Terrell stepped closer again; he was now inches from the detective.

Completely in control, the charismatic black man reached out and stroked the palm of his hand against the bulge in the front of the policeman's trousers. Brady's stood completely frozen as the powerful hand gently started to grope the hungry flesh beneath.

"Doesn't that feel good?"

Before the confused policeman could answer, the bell of the elevator rang, and the doors opened. The cornered policeman almost fell backwards inside. The rear wall of the elevator was the only thing that kept him on his feet.

Terrell stepped inside and the doors closed behind him. Without taking his eyes off Brady, he reached back and flicked the stop switch, holding the elevator where it was. His eyes burned into the policeman.

"Aren't you curious to find out how good I can make you feel for $2500?"

The detective's heart was pounding so hard, he could feel his ears throbbing. He didn't know what to do; he knew this was a ridiculous situation to be in, he knew it was a terrible idea, he knew it could end his career, his marriage. He knew all of that, but he also knew his cock was rock hard, he knew he was curious, and he also knew that Terrell's groping hand had felt amazing.

"I won't tell a soul detective." He said stepping closer.

The policeman tried to move away, but he was already tight to the back of the elevator. He felt that strong hand cup his groin again, tightly squeezing the cop's arousal through his trousers.

"It could be like a one-time thing." Terrell said, moving forward, resting his shoulder against the rear wall of the elevator. His huge hand still massaging the policeman's cock.

The black man was close enough to whisper in the detective's ear. "The night is all paid for. I was looking forward to having some fun. It could be our secret." Terrell squeezed harder, knowing how good he was making Brady feel. "Just once detective, just to satisfy your curiosity. I promise I'll make you feel real good."

Brady gulped. He wanted to believe the whispering voice in his ear, his brain was protesting there were a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea. But his body only knew what it wanted.

"Just once?" He croaked, still enraptured by the black man's powerful hand.

"Mmm-hmm." Replied Terrell.

"Our secret?" Said Brady, turning to look into Terrell's face.

"Our secret." Terrell replied, a broad smile breaking out over his face.

Brady closed his eyes as he felt the groping hand unzip his trousers and release his aching cock.

"My oh my detective, someone is very excited." Said Terrell, looking down as he began to stroke the policeman's freed cock.

Sean looked down, there was something about the sight of Terrell's dark-skinned hand against the flushed pink of his own cock, that turned Brady on even more.

He'd never felt another man's hands on his cock before and it was a strange sensation. The women he'd been with were always careful, unsure of how to handle it, worried they might hurt it. But Terrell was so assured, so confident, he stroked it even better than Brady did himself.

"You didn't answer my question detective." He said as he rolled his thumb over the oozing tip of the policeman's prick.

"What question?" Said Brady, panting as the cock throbbed with pleasure.

"Did you get off to it?" The black man's hand, now slick with Brady's juices stroked even harder up and down the excited shaft. "Or are you the type who was too embarrassed while you were watching. But just had to get yourself off after?"

"After. After." Panted Brady. Terrell's talented stroking was driving him out of his mind.

"Yeah, I thought so." He said whispering in Brady's ear. "You see detective, I know you better than you know yourself."

Brady could only moan, he was beyond speaking now. He was standing in an elevator with either a blackmailer or a whore, letting that same man work his cock into a frenzy. The policeman shook his head, unable to believe what was happening. He held on to the thought that soon; this strangely compelling black man would make him come and then this lusty madness would lose its grip on him, and he would be able to get the hell out of here. But right now, the charismatic Michael Terrell held Brady completely enthralled in the palm of his skilful hand.

It was easily the best handjob of the detective's life, the pleasure just increased with each stroke. Terrell was whispering in his ear as he worked his magic, watching the reactions on the policeman's face. Controlling the pace, making sure the fire in Brady's flesh grew hotter and hotter. He kept taking him up and up, until there was only the edge left.

The detective's stomach fluttered uncontrollably, his muscles losing control as his orgasm approached. His legs trembled as the black man worked his cock steadily, perfectly. Brady's breaths shortened as the moment approached. Any second now, he would reach the most powerful climax he'd had in years. And in this moment of sweet madness - Terrell stopped completely.

Brady stood frozen like a statue, desperate to come. But without a word, the black man turned, flicked the stop-switch on the elevator, and stepped out when the door opened. Sean slumped forward slightly, staring after Terrell as he walked back into his penthouse apartment. The sheer material showing the outline of his sculpted buttocks as he walked down the hallway. The doors of the elevator started to close and before the detective could think what he was doing, he dove through them.

He heard the doors close behind him and turned to look at them, realising what he had just done. The policeman looked back down the hallway, but Terrell was no longer there. With a gulp Sean walked after him, not paying any attention to the rock-hard cock protruding from his trousers.

The video was still playing when he reached the lounge. The soundtrack of the room sounded like a porn film, a mixture of quiet saxophone music and groans of pleasure from the television. Brady glanced up to the corner of the room again, realising it was likely he was being recorded.

Terrell was standing at the drink's cabinet with his back to the LAPD man, sipping a glass of scotch. The black man turned and smiled; glass in hand, not saying anything. What was there to say; Brady had submitted to him in the elevator, and now he'd followed him back into the apartment.

Terrell crossed the room towards Brady; his cock bouncing inside his pants as he walked. He reached out with his glass, offering for the detective to take it. Almost automatically he did.

Brady glanced over the black man's shoulder at the blinking red light of the camera.

"Do you still think I might be blackmailing Lucas?" Said Terrell, somehow knowing exactly what the detective was looking at.

Hesitantly Brady nodded.

The black stud smiled. Then slowly, deliberately, he squatted down in front of the policeman. Effortlessly he undid the detective's belt and tossed it aside, letting the cheap trousers fall carelessly to the floor. He patiently pulled down Brady's unfashionable, dull plaid boxers, enjoying the moment the cop's cock sprang back up when the elastic passed over it.

"And even though you know you're being recorded, and suspect that I might blackmail you too, you still don't want me to stop, do you?"

It wasn't really a question; Terrell already knew the answer. The stud grinned victoriously as he took the detective's desperate cock into his mouth.

Brady nearly dropped the glass as the warm lips enveloped his cock. His legs shook underneath him, and he had to steady himself by placing a hand on Terrell's shaven head. A wave of pleasure swept over him, and an ecstatic moan forced its way from his body. The black stud laughed with the lawman's cock in his throat enjoying his triumph. The sensation of the laugh almost drove Brady over the edge there and then.

With practised ease, the stud took total control of the eager cock in his mouth. Sliding his tongue and lips up and down its length, nibbling on the shaft, licking, and sucking on its swollen head. All the while humming softly, sending delicious vibrations through every inch of the cop's manhood. He was careful not to go too fast, he didn't want Brady getting too excited, too soon.

The detective looked down in disbelief at the sight of this black stud teaching him things about his body he never knew. He had never felt anything like it, the last time Beverley had gone down on him, it was his birthday, and he knew she wasn't really into it. But Terrell was spoiling every inch of his cock.

Just like Lucas had in the video, Brady started to feel uncomfortably hot. He started undoing his shirt and tie, then kicking off his shoes and trousers. All the while the black man kept sucking masterfully on the lawman's length. Terrell could feel it getting harder and harder in his mouth. He knew Brady had to be close; the handjob in the elevator, the excitement of his first time with another man, and his own sexual talent, meant it was only a matter of time now.

Brady's mind was dizzy with pleasure, he feared he might pass out. In the haze his eyes drifted to the video on the screen. He saw the look on his stepson's face - complete rapture - it was the same sensation overwhelming every nerve in his body. Slowly he felt the pleasure grow and grow, like a runaway train picking up speed. He couldn't believe how good it felt. His legs started to feel rubbery beneath him and worrying that he might fall, he dropped the glass. The thick base of the glass thudded on the floor but didn't break.

Slipping the lawman from his hot mouth, Terrell looked up at him with a grin. "Why don't you sit down, before you fall down." He said, motioning at the sofa.

With his cock still throbbing with excitement, the now naked detective stumbled towards the sofa. His legs were tingling with pins and needles as he slumped down in the seat. While the unsteady lawman was panting, trying to recover control over his body, Terrell walked round the sofa. The powerful black stud towered over him. Brady swallowed in his throat as he looked up at the dark wall of muscle, and the prominent tent in those sheer white trousers. Just as he was beginning to feel a little nervous, the black man sank down to his knees.

Brady shook his head, he needed a second to think, this was all happening too fast. He had no idea sex could be like this.

Paying no notice to the confused lawman, Terrell wrapped his hand around Brady's cock. He spat on the head, and then using the slick saliva, he rolled his slippery palm wonderfully over the sensitive crown. With his hand grasping tight, he then pulled his powerful hand down the policeman's meat, it flushed purple with excitement. The talented black stud then closed his mouth deliciously over the head. His lips and fingers began working together, like some depraved musician playing a tune on Brady's prick.

The cop's eyes rolled back in his head, overwhelmed by the intense surges of pleasure that the skilful stud was sending through his body, coursing down his shaft. He became aware of something he'd never felt before. A burning vibration deep at the very root of his cock. Whatever it was, it was throbbing wonderfully inside him, he could feel this new burning heat spreading through his whole body.

Terrell toyed with the cop's inches, sucking, and stroking in complete control of every sensation in his body. Brady flushed red, he was dangling on the edge of orgasm, unable to do anything but let the stud have his way with him. For countless minutes, Terrell edged the light-headed cop, until he was losing his mind. And then still sucking on Brady's enraptured shaft, he judged the time was right to add the rolling of his thick thumb to the twitching asshole of the groaning detective.

Brady opened his mouth, thinking he would protest. But looking down at the black man's lips sliding wonderfully up and down his cock, all thought of resisting him melted away. Seeing the acceptance of the detective, with a reassuring wink, Terrell reached for a cushion.

After releasing the policeman from his mouth, he reached underneath with his powerful arms and folded the detective upwards by the thighs, pushing the cushion between the sofa and Brady's hips.

The cop took the hint and pushed up with his arms letting the stud get the cushion right underneath him. Brady felt his back slide sideways on the sofa, adjusting to the new elevation of his hips.

The black stud began stroking Brady's shaft with his right hand and took control of the detective's hips with his left. He kissed his way down the underside of the cop's pink shaft, sucking a ball into his mouth as he did. Seeing how much Brady enjoyed it, he slowed the stroking of his hand, not wanting him to tip over the edge just yet. He swirled his tongue and lips around the hairy globe, moaning into the policeman's purse as the flesh tightened in his mouth. As his lips sucked it deeper into his mouth, his tongue searched underneath, licking the underside of Brady's testes.

The detective was groaning non-stop, his head was swimming. What was this man doing to him?

Terrell kissed down, lapping wonderfully at Brady's taint. Instinctively, the policeman reached down and hooked his hands under his knees, holding them for the licking Terrell.

With his now free left hand, the black stud pulled the cop's buttock to one side and then started teasing the lawman's virgin asshole with his tongue. Terrell's probing flesh danced deliciously over the policeman's unprotected anus.

While the policeman adjusted to yet another new sensation, the slow stroking handjob stopped, lest it push him over the edge. Brady felt like he was trapped in ecstasy and this man was refusing to set him free. The cop groaned as the tongue stopped licking and began probing, delving into him. He shook his head; he couldn't believe how good it felt. Every other time he'd had sex, even on his own, the pleasure seemed to come from his cock, but this sensation was deeper, somewhere inside him, it felt almost primal. He gripped his thighs tight, not wanting anything to get in the way of what he was feeling.

Once he was sure Brady was able to take it, Terrell's right hand started stroking the cop's cock again. Slowly at first, in time with the lapping of his tongue. The stud knew exactly what he was doing, he rimmed Brady eagerly, awakening new desires in the policeman. He started to use his thumb in unison with his tongue. Circling. Probing.

Sucking his thumb to make sure it was wet, Terrell pushed it slowly but firmly pass the ring of the captivated lawman. Brady growled in ecstasy; he was surprised how much pleasure he felt. The strange sensation of stretching was wonderful.

An hour ago, the policeman couldn't have dreamed this would happen. And now he was holding his legs high, helping a man get his thumb deeper into his ass. But oh god, it felt amazing.

The licking stopped, and Terrell sat up on his knees. The black man looked down at the cop who had walked in here earlier tonight trying to intimidate him and now he was just like all the others, a puppet dancing to his tune.

He started fucking the detective's ass with his thumb. Stroking Brady's cock in time with each steady thrust of his hand, enjoying each whimpering groan that escaped the cop's throat as Terrell's thrusting palm slapped against his ass. He replaced the thumb with his index finger and curling it towards the ceiling he started massaging the roof of the cop's tunnel, searching for that special spot.

When he found it, Brady shuddered all over. Whatever deep centre of pleasure Terrell had awakened tonight; the black stud was now stroking it. Sweat was pooling in the wells of his eyes, the sensation was indescribable. His manhood was being pleasured from all sides, inside and out.

It wasn't long until the index finger was two fingers, Brady moaned and whimpered as he stretched and then the slow strokes resumed.

"Who's a horny little cop?" asked Terrell, enjoying the sight of total submission before him.

He rolled his fingers round again, stroking towards that spot. He pressed his fingertips hard against it when he found it again. Brady felt his balls tighten and a sudden surge rush down his cock, but there was no climax just a dribbling of white sauce that trickled down his shaft. After a short wait, the stud did it again, there was another surge, and another stream of cum.

Again, and again, Terrell worked his magic, milking the exhausted cop. Brady was disorientated on the sofa, panting for breath, every exhale was a moan of pleasure.

When finally, he could milk no more sauce from the detective, he pushed his fingers deep into Brady, pressing his knuckles tight to the policeman's ass. With a grin he started stroking the cop's cock in earnest. In less than a minute Brady felt the orgasm ignite within him.

"Oh fuck-" Brady cried out, his eyes wide open.

He couldn't believe the intensity of the orgasm. For a moment he thought something might be wrong, it was just so powerful. Even after Terrell had milked him dry, his balls clenched tight, almost in cramp, and spurts of cum erupted from his cock in sporadic gushes. They landed on his chest, his stomach, his legs. The white cream mingled with the film of sweat that bathed his body.

His fingertips were white, digging into his thighs as he held himself immobile, letting the stud have his way with him. Finally, as the climax subsided, Brady had to let go of his legs, unable to do anything but try to catch his breath.

Eventually his breathing recovered, and the lawman began to feel like he was back in the room, instead of floating above it.

Terrell got up from the floor and sat on the sofa next to the dizzy detective. The cop's eyes were glazed over. The black man waited patiently as the focus gradually crept back into Brady's eyes,

"You about ready for some more?" Said Terrell with a smug grin.

Brady looked at him in disbelief. "I'm wiped, Mr. Terrell."

"I told you, call me Michael."

Sean couldn't get his words straight in his head, they started coming out in short random little pieces. "Well Michael, that was just. I mean, the most intense. Unbelievable. I'm forty-two and it just won't." Taking a deep breath he gathered himself. "There's no way I can go again, not after that."

"No worries." He said with a shrug. "If you've had enough, that's cool with me. If you want to clean up before you head home, you can use the shower through there if you like." His tone almost dismissive, sounding as if nothing out of the ordinary had even happened.

The detective couldn't believe how blasé his host was being. But a shower did seem like a good idea to Brady, he looked down at himself, his body covered with sweat and spatters of his own sauce.

Terrell stood up and went to fix himself a drink. Brady looked round in confusion, uncertain what to do next. It took him a while just to work up the strength to try his balance. When he got to his feet, his legs were still shaking. He moved to gather up his clothes, hurrying as he felt his cream sliding down his legs and stomach. Clothes in hand, he made his way into Terrell's luxurious bedroom.

The huge bed, with its grey satin sheets dominated the room. It looked big enough to sleep ten people. In a hurry to get out of here and think about what the hell he had just done, Brady quickly padded in his bare feet past the vast bed and into Terrell's attached bathroom.

There was a round stone bath on his left that was bigger than his bed at home. And on the right was a large walk-in shower, with an over-sized square showerhead in the middle, black tiled walls on two sides and glass screens to the front.

Wasting no more time, Brady dropped his clothes and got into the shower. He turned the control, drenching himself with wonderfully hot water. Steam instantly started to fill the room. The jets were powerful and invigorating. He turned round in the water, making sure to wash off any trace of the sticky sauce. Closing his eyes, he lifted his face to the pummelling stream, enjoying the sensation of the hot water running over his face.

When he opened his eyes again, a completely naked Terrell was stepping into the shower with him.

"You don't mind if I join you?" He said, his voice nonchalant.

After everything that had happened, it seemed ridiculous to Brady to object.

"Eh, no, of course not."

"Cool, I hate wasting water." He said moving closer to Brady, taking up prime position under the showerhead.

The detective took a step back, deeper into the shower. There was only one way in or out, and Terrell was blocking the way.

"Pass me the soap will you."

Brady handed it over and watched as the black stud stepped back out of the shower stream and started soaping himself up. He ran the sweet-smelling bar over his toned and tight physique. The policeman had never looked at a man like this before, but suddenly the detective was struck by how impressive Michael Terrell really was. He was tall and lean, with thick, long cords of muscle. His well-trained body looked like it had been carven from a piece of black marble.

And hanging between his thighs was a still flaccid cock, that was already bigger than Brady's. He knew the tired cliché wasn't true, not all black men were hung, but this stud certainly was. The sight of Terrell's impressive manhood didn't make Sean feel inadequate, instead it filled him with a sense of awe.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Terrell's words snapped the detective out of his trance of admiration.

"Can you wash my back?" He said, handing Brady the bar of soap, speaking to him like an old friend. "You know what it's like, it's impossible to reach on your own." Turning his back to the detective as he finished speaking.

For a moment Brady paused, unsure what to do. But again, it struck him; a few minutes ago, this man had made him cum harder than he had in his life, how could he say no to such a simple request?

He started to rub the soap across the black man's skin, the bar bobbled and bumped over the peaks and valleys of his powerful back. Once it was covered in soap, he handed the bar back to Terrell. Soon Brady was rubbing his soapy hands over the stud's back. Watching the white suds run down his spine and then between the black globes of his muscular ass.

"Rub it in hard man, the dirt gets deep into the skin." His voice still carrying a lightness, as if he weren't asking for anything unusual.

Brady did as he was asked, but Terrell kept asking for him to press harder, and the detective did his best to comply. With each increase in pressure, it became less washing his back, and more massaging it.

"That's great. Can you get my lower back too?" He said, his voice was somehow different, lower, more commanding.

Brady's hands ventured down, working the muscles just above the black man's ass. The policeman's thumbs could barely make any impression on the cords beneath the skin. Not only did he look like he was carved from marble, but he also felt like it too.

"Bit lower." Said the black man looking over his shoulder at the detective.

Sean's hands followed the muscle down, drifting onto Terrell's firm round glutes. The detective couldn't believe it, but they felt just as solid as his back. Brady was captivated with the body of this black Adonis. He pressed his palms against the firm buttocks, sliding his hands down until his fingers stroked the back of Terrell's legs.

"Man, that feels good." Said Terrell softly.

The detective barely heard him; he was still circling his soapy hands over the stud's tight buttocks. Suddenly he was filled with an urge, a need to squeeze those globes in his hands, to feel just how firm they were. The fleshy orbs barely yielded to his touch.

Terrell moaned enjoying the sensation. Brady just kept exploring, everything on this man was toned and tight, his ass, his back muscles, his stomach. The detective suddenly realised he was standing close behind him, reaching round, feeling the black man's abs. He stepped back, momentarily embarrassed.

Terrell turned round like nothing had happened.

"Do the front for me?" He said holding out the soap.

Brady didn't see the soap; his eyes were fixed on the black cock that was jutting out in front of Terrell. He stared at it, trying to take in its size. The whole thing was ten inches long, maybe more, the shaft was thick and veined with a proud mushroom head at its tip. The black python pulsed and twitched in the shower stream.

"Do my front?" Said Terrell, smiling at the reaction of the awestruck cop.

Without looking up, the detective fumbled for the soap and then started to lather up the black man's powerful chest. But even as he did, he couldn't drag his eyes away from that prodigious cock. Terrell took the bar from Brady before he dropped it, smiling as the detective began exploring his body again.

"Further down."

His soap covered fingers worked down from his chest, over the rippling washboard of his abs. Brady circled his hands over Terrell's rock-hard stomach, his gaze fixated on that black snake, but for some reason he wouldn't allow himself to go further.

"Lower." Said Terrell, seeing Brady's uncertainty.

Hesitantly, his hands slid down through a bush of well-groomed black curls. Reaching down, he took the awesome cock in both hands. It was just like the rest of Terrell, rock hard and unyielding. The black man's hefty meat felt totally different to the detective's own, it was heavier, sturdier and yet the skin felt so soft, almost like velvet. The sensation of having a hot and heavy prick in his hands was driving Brady wild. Then he felt it twitch. It was still growing he could feel it pulsating, swelling in his hands. Gripped by the need to know how big it could be, Brady began slowly stroking the cock with both hands, his fingers wrapped tightly around the virile shaft. The black stud leaned back, enjoying the attentions, loving the sight of the white cop lost in lust.

"I thought you were spent?" Said Terrell, pointing at the lawman's throbbing hard cock.

Brady could barely speak; he couldn't believe he was hard again so soon. Usually, he needed at least half an hour to try again. And here he was now, rock hard and ready, and all because he'd been washing this stud, and soaping up his big, black cock.

"It's so big." It was all Brady could think to say.

"It gets bigger." Said Terrell, loving the way Brady's eyes widened in amazement.

While Brady stroked and worshipped Terrell's black python, the stud started to soap up the policeman's body. Clouds of scented steam filled the air as endless streams of white soap suds ran down their bodies and circled their way down the plug hole. In the cascading waters both men explored each other's bodies. The lawman was fascinated with the ever-swelling inches of Terrell's cock, and the devious stud worked the soap into a lather on the policeman's chest.

"My turn to do your back now." Said Terrell.

Hearing the words, Brady bit his bottom lip. He was reluctant to stop, he wasn't ready to let go of the huge, almost hypnotic, cock. He wanted to feel it grow in his hands, to see just how big it really got. But he could feel the strong hands turning his shoulders, and he felt powerless to argue.

"Step out from under the water, we don't want the soap to just wash straight off." Said Terrell nudging him deeper into the shower.

His powerful hands slid over the policeman's shoulders and then drew circles over his upper back. Brady sighed softly, it felt wonderful. The hands worked their way down his back, just as the policeman had done for Terrell. They massaged and scrubbed, and they wandered down over the cop's ass. His buttocks were nowhere near as tight as Michael's, but he was a keen runner, and they certainly weren't flabby. The black man's slippery fingers caressed and squeezed the detective ass, and Brady felt his cock bounce with excitement.

The hands circled his hips, up the sides of his torso and then round to the front. Brady gasped as he felt Terrell's hard cock press against his lower back. The stud pulled the white cop close to him and ran his soapy hands all over his body.

Brady looked down, there was something so erotic about Terrell's black hands sliding over his pale white skin. What was also exciting was the feeling of that huge cock pressing hard into his back. Terrell's hands reached down and fondled the policeman's stiff prick.

"From now on, I decide when you've had enough."

The detective nodded in agreement, too turned on to quite realise what he was saying.

Terrell took Brady's hands and wrapped them around the handrail on the wall. The policeman had to bend forward to reach it. He could have stepped forward but that would have meant stepping away from the heavy club that was pressing into his lower back. The stud's soapy hands worked their way down the cop's back, over his buttocks, and then he started sliding his fingers up and down between his pale white cheeks. Instantly he felt the return of the sensation at the root of his cock, that tingling deep inside that had been awoken by this unbelievable black stud.

The lust-drunk cop knew exactly what came next. The old Brady would have refused, protested that he didn't want this. But now he did want it, he was desperate for it.

The detective moaned as two slippery fingers slid without resistance through the cop's delighted ring. Satisfied that he was ready, Terrell took a hold of Brady's hips and started to paint his huge soapy cock up and down the crack of the cop's ass.

Brady was panting, white-hot with need; he didn't want to be teased. He tried pushing back, desperate to make the black stud fuck him. But Terrell was too strong, he was in charge, and they would go at his pace. The stud knew that the policeman's enthusiasm would make him run before he could walk.

When Brady finally felt Terrell's cockhead nuzzling into the crook of his ass, he gasped. It felt even bigger than it looked, suddenly he was glad the stud was going slow. Without any words of encouragement or advice, he felt the thick, slippery cock ease its way into his ass.

The powerful black man pulled steadily on Brady's hips, letting the cop's ring slowly stretch around his wide flared head. Terrell smiled as he felt the pink ring snap tight round the base of his crown, gripping the shaft. He let the detective gather himself for a moment before starting to ease his cock deeper.

Brady's eyes were closed, he was gnashing his teeth, Terrell's cock was huge. He was relieved when the head snapped inside, the detective had felt stretched to the limit. The shaft was tight but bearable, and he found if he relaxed, it got easier. One inch at a time Terrell slowly sank himself into Brady's ass, it seemed to take forever. There seemed to be no end to the black man's length.

And then when Brady was sure it would soon choke him. He felt his ass press tight to Terrell's body.

Now the stretching sensation began to ease, and Brady felt that deep vibration again, but now he could feel Terrell's stiffness pressed hard against it. While he was thinking about this, he felt the black stud pull his prodigious cock back. He clung on to the handrail for balance, it felt incredible. Terrell drew it back until the ridge teased Brady's ring and slowly, he plunged it back in again. Soap was still all over their bodies, helping to lubricate the deep strokes of the stud's enormous manhood. As Terrell's hefty balls slapped against his ass, Brady stumbled forward, resting his head between his hands on the handrail.

"I love your ass detective, feels like it was made for me." Said Terrell drawing his shaft back again.

Brady couldn't speak, he was holding on tight to the handrail, his legs were like jelly. From the moment the black stud's cock has started to stroke back and forth, he was right back on the sofa, the light-headedness, the ecstasy. And it had only just started.

Confident the cop could take more, Terrell started long-dicking the lawman. Loving the sound of the white cop moaning with every deep penetrating stroke.

With each thrust it got easier to take. With each slap of the black man's balls against his ass, the pleasure grew, and the discomfort waned. After a few more minutes of Terrell's heavenly strokes, something snapped in Brady, he stopped thinking, something primal took hold of him. The horny detective began to arch his back, changing the angle of Terrell's amazing deep strokes, heightening the pleasure. A low guttural moan escaped him when he made that huge cock slide back and forth over just the right spot. He gripped the handrail tight, turning his knuckles white. He started fucking back at Terrell, smiling when he heard the stud moan with pleasure.

Terrell looked down at the slowly transforming detective. He knew that Brady, just like all the others, would eventually submit to him. But he was surprised by just how quickly the cop had surrendered, and he had had no idea the policeman would turn out to be such a hungry little anal slut. He wondered if that was where Lucas got it.

Feeling the change in Brady, Terrell fucked him harder. The stud groaned as the horny cop pushed back at him in reply. Instantly both men felt their pleasure increase. The bathroom was filled with the sound of loud slaps as Terrell buried his cock into the policeman again and again.

The detective's body just couldn't take anymore, he groaned as another orgasm rushed over him. He looked down at his dick, swinging back and forth in time with Terrell's strokes, white sauce dribbling from the tip. They splashed onto the shower floor and ran down the plughole.

But the black stud wasn't finished, he just kept fucking Brady's ass and the cop loved it. Even after coming, his dick was still hard, his whole body intoxicated by the rock-hard inches that kept being thrust inside him.

"Oh yes!" Growled Brady, as the stud's strokes just kept coming.

Terrell knew if he kept taking the cop this hard, it wouldn't be long until he came himself, and he wasn't ready for that. He'd teased and toyed with the cop for quite a while, and he was looking forward to a satisfying orgasm of his own. Grasping tight on Brady's hips he slowed the action down, the desperate cop tried to increase the pace, but the vicelike strength of Terrell held him firm.

He went back to his long slow strokes. He could feel the lawman's hips protesting, hungrily trying to quicken the pace, but still he kept control, rhythmically sawing his huge cock back and forth. Patiently, he fucked the resistance out of Brady, only letting go when he had completely submitted to Terrell's new steady pace.

Brady was still groaning with pleasure, even as this slower pace he could feel another orgasm growing. Even without a climax, his cock seemed to be constantly dripping now. The lawman wondered if he'd ever be the same again.

Terrell grinned as he felt Brady's body shudder and the detective's ass clamp tight around his manhood. The stud knew it was the second orgasm his cock had fucked the lawman to.

The climax was brief, but intense. After a few moments in the afterglow, the constant thrusts of that inhuman cock fucked the hungry lust right back into Brady. He could feel his own cock was still throbbing with arousal, but it ached after being hard for so long. But there was no sign of fatigue from Terrell. Didn't this stud ever get tired? Could he fuck him all night? And if he could - would Brady just keep coming.

The questions melted away as Terrell worked his cock over that special spot. Brady arched his back again, keeping the wide head stroking that spot.

"You're quite the little slut aren't you detective?" asked Terrell, grinning at Brady's excitement.

Brady bared his teeth, not liking the word, but he couldn't really argue with it.

"Roll your hips for me." Said Terrell, smiling as Brady responded.

As he circled his hips, the detective growled, loving this new sensation of the stud's awesome cock, rolling inside him, exploring every inch of his tunnel.

He felt Terrell grasp a handful of his hair, pulling his head back "That's it detective, you fuck my cock like a proper little slut."

There was that word again, but he couldn't help himself, in this lusty insanity he just needed to feel that black python deep inside him, he needed to please it. He fucked back at Terrell, trying to roll his hips as he did. The loud slapping sound of hard deep thrusts filled the room again; as Detective Sean Brady of the LAPD, did his absolute best to satisfy the cock of a possible blackmailer. What other word was there for him right now, apart from slut.

"That's real good detective, you learn fast. But now I'm gonna fuck you hard, just like you like it." Terrell took the cop's hips tight in his hands and started pummelling his cock into Brady's white ass, fucking towards his own satisfaction.

The lust-drunk lawman moaned with every pounding impact, his cock instantly sputtering as he felt another orgasm building. Every nerve in his tunnel was vibrating in overload. He clung on to the handrail, trying desperately to stay up, to prolong this any way he could. He could hear Terrell, beginning to groan with every thrust of his cock. Each thud forcing a corresponding moan from Brady.

The stud slapped it in hard, the harder he took him, the more Brady growled with pleasure. Terrell's piston like strokes were becoming faster, shorter. Brady guessed the stud must be close, he had to be, how long could this go on. A few moments later he had his answer.

He heard Terrell roar, and then after a deep plunging thrust that pushed the detective towards the wall. He felt an eruption inside him. The strange sensation of another man's sauce filling him up. It was hot, he could feel its heat as it gushed inside him - and it kept coming.

Terrell drew back, but just so he could thrust forward again, groaning as he did. Yet more hot sauce gushed inside the lawman. There was another slapping thrust, and this third one pushed Brady over the edge. Yet another orgasm took him as Terrell's awesome cock gushed even more sauce into him.

Brady looked down at the dribble that was dripping from the tip of his cock. Even as he watched his own, he could feel Terrell's cock spurting more hot sauce into him tickling his insides. He wondered just how much of the stud's spunk was now inside him, it felt like quite a load. For a few moments, both men stood motionless, catching their breaths, and savouring the pleasure. The hot water of the shower was still pouring over them both.

It was Terrell that moved first, with a playful slap on the cop's ass, he slowly slid his prodigious manhood out of Brady's drowned asshole. He stepped into the powerful stream of water and began rinsing himself off.

Brady craned himself back to full height, his hand reached back to his lower back. It twinged slightly from bending over so long, he wasn't used to it, but he figured it was nothing the hot water couldn't cure. He turned round and was instantly transfixed again by the sight of Terrell stroking his huge cock.

The detective felt peculiarly empty without that big python in his ass. Strangely, he could feel the stud's sauce sliding around inside him. Some had escaped when Terrell had pulled out but there was plainly quite a lot still inside. There was another problem for Brady, suddenly he felt a desperate need to take a leak. He didn't know if it was something to do with having had that big cock inside him.

"I gotta go." Said Brady gesturing towards the toilet.

"If you gotta go, you gotta go." Said Terrell with a smile. "I'll see you in a minute."

The chiselled black stud stepped out of the shower and grabbed a white cotton towel, drying himself off as he walked out of the bathroom. Closing the door behind him.

Brady stood under the hot jets of the shower, letting the hot water run over him, he reached down and pulled open his cheeks letting some more of Michael Terrell ooze from his ass.

He leaned forward, resting his head against the glass shower screen. The lustful madness was now clearing, and the LAPD man was struggling to make sense of it all. What the hell had he just done?

He thought back to the way he had rolled his hips for Terrell, arched his back for him, fucked back at his cock, his beautiful, big, black cock. He shook his head, trying to shake those thoughts from his mind. He looked up at the showerhead as he turned off the water. As he did, he saw on the ceiling, another black orb with a red flashing light. It was a camera with a perfect view of everything. Was every damn room wired for video?

It changed nothing; what Terrell had already recorded in the lounge was more than enough to blackmail him. How could he be so stupid?

***

After relieving his bladder, the naked detective walked into Terrell's bedroom carrying his clothes in his hands. The stud was sitting on the enormous bed, his awesome cock bolt upright, pointing upwards at the mirrored ceiling. Ready to go again.

"I think it's decision time detective."

"Decision time?" Brady asked.

"Mmm-hmm. Either you're going to get dressed and totter home to your wife and try to pretend that none of this ever happened. Or-" Terrell let the last word hang in the air.

"Or?" Said brady, with a raised eyebrow.

"Or- You can send her a message telling her you won't be home tonight." Terrell watched Brady struggle with himself. "Then you can come over here and suck this."

Just as the stud had intended, the detective's eyes went straight back to his throbbing black cock. Brady reached into the pile of clothes in his hands and pulled a phone out of his pocket. He dropped his clothes and quickly started to type in a message.

"Before you finish that detective, I need to warn you."

Brady looked up from his phone, Terrell slowly stood up his huge cock pointing right at the detective.

"If you click send. Once you're finished sucking my cock, I'm going to take your hot little ass all fucking night. I'm gonna fuck you with my big, black cock in every position there is. On your knees, on your back, standing up, sitting down and all the other ways in between. So, unless you're ready for that, I suggest you put the phone down, get dressed, and head home to your wife."

The detective looked down at his phone and pressed the button.

Message sent; 22:04 - delivery verified.

***

Brady woke alone, lying face down on the bed, in exactly the position he had fallen asleep in. The detective rolled over and sat up, his whole body was weak, and he felt a little light-headed. He rubbed his fingers against the stubble on his chin, trying to pull himself together.

"What the hell happened to me last night?" He asked himself.

But he had no answer. The man who had woken up this morning, wasn't the same man who the previous night, had so willingly lost himself in the heat of raw sexual desire, and the sinful pleasures of Michael Terrell's cock. He shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts on the here and now.

Then he noticed the smell. He was naked, but he was covered in the scent of last night's events, like it was aftershave. For a moment, he considered having a shower, but a voice cried out in his head - get the hell out of here while you can.

He glanced towards the bathroom door. His clothes were still lying in a crumpled heap, right where he had discarded them last night. Gingerly, the detective got to his feet. He could feel his leg muscles trembling just like when he overworked them in the gym. With uncertain steps Brady crossed the floor and gathered his clothes. He returned to the bed and sat back down to get dressed. The detective took a deep breath, and then did his best to walk to the lounge. Brady's legs were still weak, but at least they worked. His cock on the other hand, was aching sore and his asshole felt tight as a drum.

He saw Terrell the instant he entered the lounge. The black man was sitting by the window wearing a white silk housecoat reading a newspaper and drinking coffee.

"Ah detective you're awake." He said, placing his coffee cup down.

"What time is it?"

"It's nearly eleven o'clock."

"When did I- I mean when did-."

"When did you pass out?" Said Terrell. "A little before five."

Brady's eyes widened, the memories of everything they did the night before danced before his eyes like a depraved porn movie. He shook his head again, trying desperately not to think about it.

"I have good news for you detective. I've been checking my diary and I have the first Wednesday of each month free. Well, not free." He said smiling.

"Well, I won't be needing it." Said Brady, desperately trying to get out of Terrell's apartment with some dignity.

"Is that right?" asked Terrell, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know what the hell happened last night, but it was a one-time thing. It's never going to happen again!"

Terrell stood up, and with a shrug of his shoulders he let the silk housecoat fall to the floor, revealing his naked body. The black stud grinned as he saw the detective try to hide his admiration and lust.

"We both know you're coming back." He said smugly.

The detective drank in Terrell's majestic, sculpted body, especially the awesome cock that had given him so much pleasure the night before. The detective could feel his heart race, his mouth suddenly dry, his aching prick trying to stiffen. Suddenly terrified that last night's madness might take hold of him again, the detective forced himself to turn and hurriedly walk down the hallway to the elevator.

Terrell, called after him. "I'll see you Wednesday night, detective."

"Not a chance." Shouted Brady as he left.

Brady walked down the hallway, his defiant words echoing in his ears. But even as he did, a small, quiet part of his mind was calculating just how many Wednesdays it would be before his savings ran out.