Cops In Cuffs

Kirk Cummings thought he had the upper hand until Max Cameron flipped the script. One minute the cop was slapping cuffs on a loiterer at the cruising grounds; the next, the cuffs were on him, and he was face-down in Max’s secret dungeon. Max climbed aboard, sinking onto Kirk’s hard cock like the officer wasn’t even there, riding him in slow, selfish strokes while Kirk begged him to stop. Max’s fingers pinched his own nipples, stroked his dick, every movement designed to use the cop’s meat for his own pleasure. Sweat ran in rivulets down both men. Max pulled off, stood, and drove straight into Kirk’s hole, pounding the cuffed cop until the metal rattled. Out came the flogger—thick black tails cracking against Kirk’s cheeks until they flushed pink. The leather paddle followed, landing with heavy thuds that left Kirk gasping. Max sank back in, fucking harder, deeper, using the cop like a hole that owed him. When Max was ready, he stood over Kirk’s helpless body and unloaded, thick ropes splattering across Kirk’s cock, balls, and stomach. He scooped the load, smeared it over Kirk’s shaft, and stroked fast until the cum turned frothy. Kirk’s body jerked; he shot hard, spraying his own load across his chest. Breath ragged, he begged to go, but Max hog-tied him on the concrete and made a call. “Bitch, you’ve got a surprise coming,” Max said, walking off, leaving Kirk bound and dripping on the floor.