A Leatherman on the Prowl Pt. 02

The cop spat in his gloved hand and smeared the spit over his cock and balls, where it mixed with the precum that had leaked out in anticipation. He slapped his cock a couple of times and braced himself for the assault. He pulled the chains to adjust the cunt package in front of him. I watched as the cunt opening approached the thick mushroom of his cock. With that stimulating image fixed in my mind I retreated behind the cop and continued licking his breeches seat. With the tightening of his arse muscles I felt his leather-strapped cock enter the gaping hole. Within seconds he had settled in a rough but steady punch rhythm, that he knew he could easily maintain for 40 minutes and that would allow him to fill the hole 3 or 4 times.

For me, to be part of this was bliss and I wanted it to never end. Even though I only caught an incidental glimpse of the actual cunt-wrecking action - my face was burried in the fucker's hindquarters - I felt in every way part of it. My face was glued to his leathers while his mighty arse moved back and forward in countless powerful thrusts. I actually had to use both my hands to keep the cop's strong upperlegs from crushing me entirely against the backwall. But while I pushed backs his thighs I pressed my face more firmly against his leathered buttocks. It was an overwhelming experience and I could no longer hold back. With all inhibition gone my tongue went up and down his leather arse frantically, accompanied by loud slurping noises. Unfortunately, this was not the sort of man to have funny zips installed in his breeches to accomodate some of the perverts, otherwise my tongue would certainly have gone right up his asshole. As it was, my tongue did a good job pushing the leather back against his anus as far as it would go.

The cop was entirely caught up in his fucking. He had not the slightest interest in what I was doing or what was happening to the woman he was fucking. It was exclusively about him and his fat cock. Each time he came, he slowed down a bit and grunted while his balls pumped the cum through his dick. Ten seconds later he was back to his former jackhammering, letting out animalistic growls, breathing hard, but maintaining his relentless pounding. Every time he hammered his cock in, the tied-up package of a woman was slammed against the wooden wall of the cabin. The growling, the brutal banging, the chains rattling, it created an atmosphere of total havock in the entire private fuck area.

People were gathering around our cabin, some knocking on the door, asking if everybody was all right. Some seemed to be pushing against the walls of the cabin as if to prevent it from being banged apart. Or was it to be closer to the action? Then there was the winy voice of the husband: "Honey? Are you in here, sweetheart?" And almost sobbing: "Are you okay, sweetheart? Please say something." No need to say the cuckold did not get an answer; his wife by now had passed out several times, she was gagged anyway, and the cop and I were certainly not going to let him interrupt our bit of fun. I doubt whether the cop even heard him. He was in his own world, banging on as if he was alone in it.

The cop was done after he came a fourth time. He pulled out, undid the leather straps of his cockring and ball stretcher, stuffed his cock back into his breeches and took the gag off the woman. Without a word to her - or to me - he pushed the cabin door open and walked out. For a moment I had worried that he would turn around and release his bladder over me. It had happened to me at a similar occasion. The ultimate humiliation for a cuckold: you fuck his wife and then you piss on him. I guess leaving without even looking at me was as much proof of his contempt. I remained stooped on the floor, locked up in my leather-fuck-fantasy-come-alive, the biggest smile on my face, triumphant and satisfied.

The pig had left the woman dangling in her chains. Or rather, the left-overs of what had been a bouncy, frivolous woman less than an hour ago. I noticed she was bleeding a little from her cunt; a stream of sperm mixed with drops of blood splattered on the floor. A group of bystanders came into the cabin, among them perverts who wanted to glee at the havock done to the poor victim. Others genuinely wanted to help. One of them was the cuckolded husband - I would say in this case: the double-cuckolded husband. He started crying like a baby when he saw his bleeding wife, raped and reduced to a piece of meat hooked up in chains against the wall. "Oh sweetheart, what have they done to you?" he sobbed, "I lost you, I couldn't find you anymore. Oh, my baby, I am so sorry!" While he held her in his arms, others undid the restraints. She slowly turned her head towards him, tried to speak but failed, while tears ran down her cheeks. Her loving husband had come to rescue her!

I watched them while he carried her out, covering her face in sweet kisses and whispering comforting words. Their evening had certainly ended here and they probably would not be seen at the club for a few months, if at all. They had bargained and got a lot more than they could deal with.

I pushed myself up, leaning against the cabin wall, still trying to hold on to the enthralling image of the cop's pounding arse. Around me people spoke ill of the scandalous treatment that poor woman had been given. I slowly wanked myself to a huge orgasm. My cum flew around, upsetting some of the bystanders that got hit by it. Some of it landed on the floor and mixed with the cop's seed and the various fluids from the woman, making the floor very slippery and causing some people to nearly stumble. I stuffed my cock back into my leather breeches. It was difficult to imagine what on earth could follow this and compare with it.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3