Sunday, 27 December 2015
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This work of fiction is free to be distributed in the public domain provided the original author and paragraph above is included.
The annual chore that was officer safety refresher was finally heading towards its conclusion. It was a necessary evil with holding the skill set of a public order trained resource. Two days of running around a 45,000ft training facility, complete with its own firearms range, mock town, cells and gym. Fortunately we ran one of the best national facilities available.
Whilst I maintained a high level of physical fitness for my upper 40s, the shield I'd been using was beginning to feel far heavier than it actually was, and my arms and fists were sore. Six foot two; but some of the younger guys were now referring to me as 'old timer'. I got my own back. Handcuff, and take down training meant the 'old timer' was often sitting on top of them applying the restraints, whilst they mock struggled.
Nonetheless I still had sweat running down my back. The uniform consisted of flame resistant top and pants, heavy black leather boots, leather gloves, silk balaclava, riot helmet with face shield, ballistic protection vest, and hard armour strapped to shoulders arms, thighs and lower legs. All that with belt equipment, baton, six pairs of plastic cuffs, radio, pepper, and med kit. I also wore a jock and hard groin protector, just in case a knee or other projectile was aimed between my legs.
I was looking forward to getting out of my kit, into a hot shower, and then lounging around in baggies for three days leave to let my muscles recover before returning to the day to day of front line policing supervision – and there was less than 30 minutes until the course's scheduled finish time.
Twelve participants, four of which were women, two male and one female training instructors. Four from my area, and the rest I mostly recognised from either working with previously or just seeing around. A few nice pieces of eye candy to look at during breaks and instructional sections; although being a boss (both occupationally and in the bedroom) meant a level of detachment was required. My personal situation was also common knowledge, and I knew at least two of the women present (including the instructor) were out lesbians at work.
The male and female instructor I knew well – they'd been in the role for a number of years, and were experts in their field. You could always count on them to offer advice when there had been a tricky violent situation to deal with; and to give you the appropriate words and phrases to use when examined on the stand to justify your actions.
John was a power house of a man. Whilst smaller in stature to myself, his dark looks and lean body made him an ideal person to play and support the rugby team. Not overly muscular, his dark no 2 dark crop and wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, fantastic shapely butt and powerful legs. I knew he took care of himself and watched his diet, as I'd seen him on numerous occasions supplementing his protein intake and in the gym.
We'd worked with each other a number of times, and had 'bonded' a number of years earlier when a particular technique regularly used just point blank didn't work on me now matter how much he tried. He'd always remembered and used me as an example since then. I'd thought a number of times when he was face down on the mats how good that butt would taste and how much of a pig he'd be hooded and strapped in my sling; but alas, I'd seen him at a number of events with his wife and kid, so eye candy was as far as that was ever likely to go.
The 'newbie' instructor, as John had referred to him had caught my eye. Owen was his name I'd discovered. He sported dark brown hair which was shaven and sculpted into a perfect flat top, clean shaven and square jawed, with a mouth I just wanted to abuse instantly. The standard red training school T-shirt was strained by his massive biceps and wide chest. This guy was definitely a muscle boy, that was for sure. Prone on the floor, I was pretty sure he cold flex his ass cheeks and open bottles of beer that way. The issued black jogging pants were drawn in to his narrow waist, and then ballooned to his thick legs.
This new eye candy had most definitely improved the two days of sweating, running, control and restraint. I could look at him all day, and he was certainly reserved a place in my fantasies. I'd enjoyed seeing him geared up, demonstrating techniques, and his massive arms double cuffed behind his back. I wondered if he realised I'd also visualised him padlocked inside my cage.
But for now, the refresher was over for another year, and all the paperwork was complete. Many of the other students were in a rush to get away – it's amazing what an extra few hours in the day will give you. Getting out of their kit where they were standing, or in corridors or otherwise, sweaty kit everywhere.
I needed to discuss one or two little 'concerns' with John, so I caught up with him before my next key priority – a hot shower, a clean set of clothes –and a decent meal. It was obvious he was just as keen to get an early finish and home to family.
“We're the last course in tonight – Sarah and I are heading off, and newbie is gonna lock up. Still sailed through boss”.
“I dunno for how much longer! Catch you later, enjoy the rest of your night.”
With that, I picked up my kit bag and headed to the showers, walking through the main open training area to the shower and locker area. Dumping my belt onto the floor, I just wanted out my sweaty kit and into the shower as quickly as possible. Removing the straps on my torso body armour, it was the first to hit the floor. Next, I removed the velcro around my shoulder and forearm armour, and sat to remove the thigh and shin guards. Down to just my dark blue riot coveralls, already I felt a lot better, despite my muscles being sore.
Peeling down the zips and removing the top, my body hair was matted with my own sweat, and the fresh air was cool relief on my body. Looking back at myself in the mirror, I mentally made note that I wasn't doing too bad for a guy of 48. I kept my head shaven, even though these days my dark hair was more what you might describe as DILF grey anyway. My wide shoulders narrowed down to my waist and the dense covering across my chest started dark, then went grey. Fitter than the average 48 year old, my arms, chest and abs were still defined enough to make generate jealous looks in the gym.
My scuffed boots were the next thing to free myself of – I kept them clean but there was little point in a high shine to these, since they were more about practicality than impression. I preferred them high leg, to give my ankles and lower shins more protection anyway, and as a traditionalist – it was laces for me all the way. Releasing my feet felt like a blessing in itself, the thick wool socks would certainly have soaked up my sweat, and perhaps some petrol fumes over the preceding days. Just dumping the boots and socks where I stood, I would sort out my kit after I was refreshed.
Unbuckling my wide leather belt, there was a pungent smell of leather, and stepping out of the uniform felt fantastic, the cold air hitting my legs and ass. Releasing my cock and balls from the groin protection jock was heaven, and finally I was ready for the hot water.
It was one of those times when a hot shower feels like something else. The large communal shower was hot, and all mine to enjoy. Leaning prone position against the wall of the shower, I let the hot water run across my back as if it were to drain away the ache in my muscles for a few moments. Such simple pleasures sometimes.
Re running through the events and knowledge of the last few days, I felt like energy was once again starting to return to my muscles. The smell of sweat was slowly being replaced with the smell of vanilla soap, and my focus shifted to allow myself the thought of the newbie trainer prone and restrained. Blood once again started rushing to my cock; but it wasn't really the place or time until I got home.
I rustling noise brought me to back to reality from the changing room and opening my eyes, I was greeted by the 'newbie' in all his muscular form. Still in his trainer's uniform, now with jacket on; I had forgotten we were the only ones left in the building. Brushing thoughts to one side, I tried to distract from my growing member, and finished my ritual shower.
He sat on one of the benches, in my clear view.
“So newbie, thanks for your input over the last few days. How are you finding fitting into the team here?”
“Pretty good Sir. The work is enjoyable and it's a friendly bunch of people”.
“No formalities here, it's Geoff, unless you prefer Sir of course”.
“Sir's good.” He looked me right in the eye, then dropped his gaze. Oh God, he couldn't have looked more submissive if he wanted to. Trying to clear my thoughts of a submissive muscle boy in cuffed and on his knees, I turned off the shower, and walked back towards where he was now sitting, and all my kit was dumped.
“Good to have you with us. Hell of an impressive body on you”.
“Sir, thank you sir”. That was just too many Sirs to be automatic – that was purposefully inserted. Towelling myself down, he glanced up and across my torso. “You've been a physically strong team member yourself over the last days Sir, and now I see why”.
“I'm an active boss. Show me more of the body...”
Towel still wrapped around me, I wanted to see what the reaction would be after the compliments on my physical fitness and constant use of submissive language. I need not have worried.
“Sir, Yes Sir, pleasure Sir”.
First was the work issued waterproof, stretched tight over his back and biceps. Down to the work issued red t-shirt, pecs straining inside and the outline of two nipples which I'd never noticed previously. With one fluid motion, he lifted this over his head to reveal a fine hairless muscle boy chest. I stepped closer to view from behind and in front.
Toned delts and a well defined back, led way to a fantastic set of abs, opening up into a wide set of pecs and bicep/triceps which were equally as impressive.
From my vantage point, it was quite obvious that the now bulge in my own towel was equally being matched by a bulge in the front of this tracksuit. His eyes were lowered, staring at my towel. I raised by eyebrows, and said “very impressive boy.... and?”
Reaching down, he pulled the string of his tracksuit, and kicked off his training shoes, and pulled them down round his ankles and kicked them off. He was wearing a white jock, which was now strained with his hard cock head sticking out the front.
“Good. Very impressive from all angles”. The legs were equally as impressive as the torso, with muscle separation evident and well defined calves. From behind, the two hard butt cheeks were as good as I thought they might have looked during earlier training.
I traced my fingers across one powerful leg, across an ass cheek and up the centre of his ass crack, around to the six pack, up the chest and over and nipple to his neck and finally to his lips. The lips parted purposefully and his tongue started licking my finger. Pushing it further into his mouth, it went inside willingly.
Still in my towel, I planted my lips on his and probed into his mouth. He kissed back just as hard, even passively taking my tongue inside him.
“Down on your knees”
Without a further order, he dropped down and looked up at me for further instruction. It seemed perhaps the fantasies I'd been thinking of were about to come true after all. This beautiful hard muscle boy was passively on his knees just as I'd imagined.
With one hand, I dropped my towel to the floor. He instinctively opened his mouth and started to lean forward, but I wasn't going to allow him that pleasure yet, even if I was ready for his mouth.
Taking the wide leather belt out of my uniform, I fastened it round his neck, fashioning the muscle boy an instant collar and leash. Damn, it made him look even hotter. Next, I snapped a cuff round his wrist behind his back, and then double cuffed him.
Fully erect and hard to my 7 inches, I returned to present my meat towards his mouth.
“Let me hear you beg muscle boy”.
“Sir, please let me suck you off Sir, swallow your load and use me as your fuck boy”.
This boy already had me rock hard and thinking of all the fantasies I was going to make come true with him. I rammed my meat the full length straight into his throat. Expecting a gag reflex, I was even more surprised when he took the full length without faltering. A few full withdrawals and then full length back into his throat finally elicited that response, and I pulled him on harder using the belt-collar.
Pulling fully out, I presented him with the head to service. His tongue darted across the glans and he made good progress stimulating me, getting closer and closer towards nirvana. He greedily licked the pre cum which had built up, I could feel every stroke of his tongue. Despite his hands being cuffed behind his back – this boy had either a talented, or well trained mouth. I could see his cock straining against the jock he was wearing – but there was no way he was getting relief yet... if ever...
He took my swollen cock head into his mouth and throat, working every inch and increasing the pace to pleasure me. Soon I could hold back no longer, and with a final hard pull on his collar and the hand on the back of his neck, my balls tightened and I unloaded my jizz into his throat.
It felt like I came gallons, my fantasies and his oral talents had made sure I was fully fired up for the occasion. Far from struggling or coughing under the load, I saw his Adam’s Apple gulp down the liquid, which made me produce even more.
As my breathing returned to normal, he licked every inch clean to make sure none of the precious liquid was wasted, even applying more pressure to the glans to milk out every drop as his reward.
The sexy as hell image of this muscle hunk cuffed and collared on his knees still had me turned on, and I was sure I wasn't finished using him yet. The sore muscles from earlier had strangely seemed to have gone away for a while.
Of course, the training school had a full cell, and this boy was going to look so good cuffed and in leg restraints with a boss riding him...
“So boy, fucked in cell here, or cell in your bosses playroom tonight?”
“Sir, BOTH, Sir”
I took my boot socks from the pile of my kit still unpacked, and knotted them together. Planting the knot between his lips, I pulled them tight around the back of his neck and tied them. This improvised gag was a good start. There were some other tools I noticed in the gym earlier I could put to good use too.
For now, I pulled my silk balaclava onto his head the wrong way, to limit his vision, and then pulled my riot helmet over the top. A bit of improvisation is always a good thing until I could fasten and padlock him into a leather hood later and use his mouth again and again....
With that, I packed my kit into my bag, along with his clothes, and planning how I was going to use the cell... damn... I was hard again....