Detective Barnes swiped through various pictures of a tall, brunet college boy, photographed and filmed by early birds as he jogged through the streets naked and blatantly erect.
The screen glared in defiance of the plain concrete room’s stark neon light, casting Joe Barnes’ edgy face in sharp lines, from the gray hair to the ever-snarling lips.
The man in a police uniform shirt stopped on an image where the 23 year old nudist’s erection was as clearly in focus as his distraught, freckled face.
He put the tablet down, making sure the guy across from him got a good look at the screen.
Neil Gallagher had put on a casual suit for the interrogation, perhaps to overcompensate for the less fashionable display that had brought him here.
Joe would have liked nothing more than to simply teach those perverts a lesson but he was getting suspicious of the circumstances.
“And you’ve never heard of the other two?” he asked.
Neil swallowed hard, his hands firmly planted on his thighs to keep any shaking unobservable. “Yes, officer. Never seen them. Don’t know the names the sergeant gave me.”
Joe nodded. “So I’m supposed to think there’s three dumb kids in as many weeks going streaking?”
Neil’s eyes dashed between the photo of his naked self and the officer’s eyes. “I swear I’d tell you everything if I could. Don’t you think I’m pissed at whoever did this to me?”
Joe Barnes knew he’d get the guy talking just by staying silent. The issue was keeping the idiots on track when they started rambling.
“There was…” Neil started, glancing along the off-white walls, anywhere but the tablet in front of him. “There was this flute music when I walked to the bar for a beer with the boys, coming from a side alley.”
That one almost made the detective react. The first guy had also mentioned something like a flute. But where was the connection?
“So I go check it out. Dunno why. I just… felt like it. And there was this guy in a suit. Or a trench coat. Or a cloak.”
Great, Joe thought, another highly reliable eye witness. But it was suspicious that the pervert didn’t have a better story prepared.
“And before I know it my pants are down and…” Neil took a deep shaky breath, “he sucks my dick like a grade A whore. I mean, down to the balls in one go and, I mean, I’ve got quite a sizable tool.”
The detective nearly let out a sarcastic ‘yes we’ve all seen it’ but kept feigning quiet interest.
Neil’s legs parted and he leaned back with a more relaxed posture. “It was the best blowjob of my life. I don’t even know how to describe that shit. I’ve been in a lot of pussies and I thought my girl Becca was the best bang I could ever have dreamt of. But this guy, I mean, he was a monster.”
Strange. The second ‘victim’ had also blamed a blowjob by an unknown man. This made it all the more likely the three had corroborated, or perhaps read the same silly urban myth about magic blowjobs. Was he dealing with closeted gays?
“So this guy sucks the soul out of me, I feel like I’m flying through space, I mean, I think I came ten times over, and then things got weird, like I was on drugs and-“
The tablet screen turned itself off and Neil met the policeman’s eyes as if just remembering where he was.
“Uh, not that I’ve ever done drugs. At all. Officer. Detective.”
Joe Barnes leaned forward. “Yes, you’ve tested negative for drugs and alcohol when we brought you in. What do you mean by ‘things got weird’, kid?”
Neil’s legs closed a bit, but his right hand came to rest on his tenting lap. “He started hitting me. You can’t really see it in the pics but I was covered with whip marks. And I liked it. Fuck, I *loved* it. I spread my legs for him and everything and…”
The college boy clutched his head. “Holy… He fucked me. No, that can’t be. I’d remember if I got raped in the ass, right?”
The detective felt the need to say something, just in case there was some truth istanbul travesti to these claims. “If the experience was traumatic, the mind can-“
“No! I fucking loved it. I couldn’t get enough of his dick. *If* what I remember really happened.”
Joe Barnes cleared his throat to keep from bursting into laughter. None of this made sense but he was starting to think the connection between the three cases was an unknown person, rather than kids living out their fantasies after reading the same online bullshit.
After silence settled, Joe Barnes said, “But that doesn’t quite explain the condition we found you in.”
“Man,” Neil said and slumped back into his nervous posture from before. “He must have taken my clothes. He’s obviously an asshole. I mean, seriously officer, someone withdrew 5000 dollar from my account. That’s a crime, right? You’re looking into that?”
“We are,” Joe Barnes said, thinking of the other perverts who had also claimed that money was stolen from them. “But as your drug tests had negative results we have to assume that you willingly exposed yourself to members of the public.”
“Fuck.” Neil rubbed his temples. “What is it? A year in prison?” He laughed bitterly.
“*Up to* a year, plus up to 6250 dollar.”
“Fuuuck.” Neil sighed. “Uh, sorry, officer.”
“It’s looking bad for you, kid, but prison’s not a guarantee. The only thing that’s for sure is from now on you’ll show up as a sex offender.”
Neil mumbled under his breath, hand still on his unrelenting boner.
The detective stepped outside where a colleague was already waiting with a grin.
“Guess what, Joe? We got a fourth one. Naked, hard, talking about getting sucked off by some guy.”
The policeman glanced back at the door. “Hm, keep Mister Gallagher’s file open a bit. Something’s not right.”
Lazaro rarely felt the need to look any more powerful than he did by nature so the massive black man had chosen to downplay his defined physique with a brown over-shirt hanging open over a loose white tee.
The receptionist faced him with a snarl as soon as he entered. She fixed her stern expression on his sneakers as if he’d drag dirt onto the lobby’s tiles.
Lazaro pulled an old-timey matchbox from his chest pocket — a loan from Mordecai. It showed the word ‘Cognizance’ in fancy writing above a half open eye.
He lit one match. The receptionist, who had been about to confront him, sat down at her desk, distracted. The hunk hurried to reach the elevator before the match was fully burned.
The hunk made it to the eighth floor of the sleek high rise hotel in the Pearl District. He relaxed his muscles and put on his most charming smile before knocking.
The 22 year old, short guy who opened had a boyish face, topped by a blond bowl cut. He wore a wife beater that showed of the wiry body of someone who liked to work out but not to eat. He tilted his head as he stepped back, surprised at Lazaro’s large presence.
“Uh c-can I help you, sir?” the pretty-boy said with an unmissable posh English accent.
“Hello. Leo Hall? I’d like to go over the events of yesterday with you.”
“I already said everything. Are you a detective? A journalist?”
Lazaro produced a coin from his pocket. It was an ancient, tattered gold disk, an inch across, showing a face and some Latin writing on either side, so flattened it was barely legible after all the time it had served him.
He held the ‘lie’-side facing himself and the ‘truth’-side pointing at Leo’s curious gaze.
“I’m an investigator, here to help you. You can call me Mister Carter. And you can tell me everything.”
Leo blinked as the hunk put away his coin, no… his ID badge? He had a good feeling about this buff dude. Not a Bobbie, just someone trustworthy.
Leo Hall was the only son of a London business man on his first mission in America and he’d had no istanbul travestileri intentions of getting into trouble. He just wanted to make his father proud and secure his future to impress his girlfriend. Yes, he mostly lived according to his father’s plans, but he was fine being a business man. There wasn’t some creative dream getting squashed.
All that and more rushed from his lips like an autobiographical fountain before he and the hunk had even settled in, sitting on heavy chairs in the minimalist hotel room with an amazing view of the Willamette River.
“As I understand it,” Mister Carter said, “You were sightseeing by yourself around seven in the evening. What began your… adventure?”
“I ran into this guy in a side street.”
“How did you get there?”
“Well, the police didn’t seem too interested but there was a melody. On a recorder I think.”
“Could you hum it?”
“Sorry? I… You know, I can’t recall a lot of things from that day.”
Mister Carter raised his glass. “Hydrate and think about it for a second.”
Leo raised his own glass to his lips and the memory faintly returned, as though every sip made recollection clearer.
“Oh, it’s kind of like… It wasn’t even a complicated piece, just kind of melancholic.”
The business man’s son hummed a few notes.
Mister Carter pulled out his phone and played a piano piece that was the exact melody.
“Yes, that’s it!”
The musclebound investigator turned the music off. “Then you were confronted with the stranger. Any identifying features?”
“I already told the police I barely reme- actually, it’s all coming back to me. He was pale, enough to be an Englishman I guess,” Leo said and chuckled, glancing up and down Mister Carter’s body. “In a black coat. High collar, like some goth.”
“And he sucked you off.”
“God yes,” Leo said, surprised at his own intensity. But the memory returned full force and he felt his erection rise. “I’ve never cummed this hard. But I didn’t *really* cum, not shooting a load. It just felt like lightning rushing through my body and out my dick. Over and over. I would do anyth- I mean, I would have done anything to make him continue. Heavens, I don’t know if I can go back to pussy after this, haha… ha.”
“You were found with marks across your back and thighs.”
“Yes, sir, I still have some.” Leo tried rolling up his pants but they were annoyingly uncooperative. He slipped them off, making sure his shirt hung loosely over his tented briefs.
The back of his smooth, evenly creamy thigh was crisscrossed with fading red stripes.
“I was begging for it,” Leo confessed. “I got a minute of sucking for a minute of whipping, so I never stopped asking for more until… Oh shit, I thought I had *dreamt* that part. Did he really f-fuck me?”
“And before you knew it, you were rid of your clothes, running through the city and until the police found you near a school.”
“Everyone keeps bringing that up,” Leo said, throwing his hand up in exasperation. “If I had known there’s a school that way I wouldn’t have gone there.”
The investigator slipped out of his over-shirt, exposing enviably muscular arms, a few prominent veins lining the flawless umber skin.
Leo realized he was staring and forced his eyes down only to realize his briefs were on display. Throwing his hands up had pulled the shirt off his tent. He covered himself but his dick was beginning to ache with solidity.
Mister Carter seemed unbothered. “But you did try to jerk off in public to, as you said in the report, ‘calm the little lion’, right?”
“Ugh. And now I’m on the hook for, like, 6000 dollar in addition to the money that creep took out of my account and I’ll be on the sex offender registry and I might go to fucking prison. Hell, I can’t even afford this hotel room unless I break down and tell dad how grim things are looking.”
The hunk pulled out a frayed looking gold coin. travesti istanbul Where had Leo seen that one before?
The investigator flipped the coin in his hand a few times. “I might be able to help with that last part, if you’re willing to move about an hour’s ride away.”
Leo’s eyes went wide. “That would be grand, sir. What do I have to do?”
“Oh, nothing. Just one more question.”
The coin landed again and Mister Carter held it up to Leo’s face. It was an ancient thing. Leo thought he could make out the word ‘veritas’.
“Would you like to suck my dick?”
“Yes, sir. Uh…”
Leo was surprised at how confidently he had answered. And that he had answered honestly. And that ‘yes’ was the honest answer.
Within the blink of an eye, the investigator’s incredible bodybuilder torso was bare and his pants at his ankles.
Leo sank off the chair to his knees.
“Um I’ve never…”
Mister Carter pulled his dick out and placed a hand in Leo’s hair. Without further instructions, the man pushed him onto the frighteningly thick, uncut rod and Leo tried to keep his teeth covered with his lips. This exhausted his blowjob knowledge, but gentle pressure guided him down until he gagged, then kept him an inch above that spot.
Jerking off the investigator with one hand as he tongued the dickhead, Leo reached into his underwear and jerked off his inadequate feeling tool.
Getting fucked in the mouth was already boggling Leo’s mind but the hunk’s nonchalant brutality made the Englishman feel like a force of nature was knocking at his throat.
The sheer masculinity of Mister Carter’s physique left Leo feeling like a worshipper at the altar of testosterone. The painfully thick, vein-riddled dick sliding with perfectly calculated force into his orifice was almost a spiritual epiphany. Leo sometimes dared to dream of being this manly, but the inevitable penetration left him feeling submissive beyond anything his spoiled, bossy girlfriends had ever achieved.
The hand on the back of his head held him in place, but didn’t force him deeper than he could handle. Yet Leo *wanted* to gag on the delicious smelling cock and pushed his head down until he coughed teary-eyed.
Leo slowed down his own jerking, for fear of cumming too soon. Then he let go of his bouncing, achingly hard dick altogether, to better service Mister Carter’s rod with ball-fondling.
It turned out he didn’t need to jerk off anyway. He shot his thighs full of cream the moment the black hunk unloaded a series of salty ropes at the back of Leo’s tongue.
The only complaint about the blowjob was that it had to end.
Investigator Lazaro ‘Carter’ left the hotel onto a busy commercial street and pulled out his phone.
“I’m done with the interrogation.”
“Everything according to plan?” asked the man on the other end of the line.
“More or less,” Lazaro said. “Your Mnemosic Wine worked wonders, Jasper. I slipped it into his water when he wasn’t looking and he recalled everything. Never seen anything that counters a *mindwipe* but I guess our mark is sloppy nowadays.”
“So you’ve confirmed the target?” Jasper asked.
“The creature in the area is definitely what I call a vampire, or what you so eloquently call a suck-ubus,” Lazaro heard a chuckle. “And I think I know how to find him. By the way, do you have a spare room?”
Jasper audibly leaved through paper. “Think so. Why?”
“I know the cutie’s going to forget this whole encounter once the Mnemosic Wine is out of his system, if it works as advertised.”
“It does,” Jasper grumbled.
“But I kind of promised him I’d find a new hotel since he’s out of money after this whole thing.”
“Fine, but don’t make it a habit. Grampa can be generous but we’re not running a charity. I assume he’s exceptionally hot since you’re usually less… caring about whoever you’re investigating.”
“Dibs on his ass.”
“Fine, dips on his dick.”
Lazaro chuckled. “At least you know how to negotiate. Are you going to report this to Mordecai?”
“Ay ay, captain. About to have a customer, bye.”
Lazaro lowered the phone pensively. He had preparations to make.