Held for Ransom; the kidnapping of Scotty Thurston

























Above, top to bottom:  Officer Dean Brandt, Scotty  Thurston, Officer Paul Ryan 





They were known as “R&B,” officers Ryan and Brandt. Partners since graduating together from the academy, they were practically inseparable. Theirs was an unusual friendship; they were about as opposite as could be. Officer Paul Ryan was a stocky, quiet man who did everything by the book. In contrast, Officer Dean Brandt was a rebel, outgoing, athletic, impossibly good looking. He was a free spirit, using his intellect and wit to access every situation, often coming up with unorthodox solutions to problems. He had a way with people, frequently using his conversational skills to his advantage. He could put anyone, even the most hardened criminal, at ease. Fiercely loyal, he would do anything for his friends or others in whom he believed. He regarded Ryan as not only his partner, but soul mate and best friend. It was too bad that Officer Ryan wasn’t gay, because if he was, Dean would joke, they would be significant others. People were always surprised when they found out that Officer Brandt was gay, as there was not one thing about him that would make one suspect. He thought this was very funny. He didn’t hide his sexuality from anyone, and no one he knew or had contact with had a problem with it; even if they did, they probably wouldn’t say anything, because he was a formidable presence and would likely kick their ass.

It had been a particularly busy week in the 13th precinct. It must have been the warm weather. It seemed that every looney toon was out and about. The officers’ shifts were packed back to back with calls to various locations for domestic disputes, break-ins, etc. There seemed to be barely enough time to fit in a quick lunch during their shift. By Thursday of that week, they had both been putting in massive overtime, not finding a lot of time for bathroom breaks. Dean would hit the gym after his shift, no matter how long it was, and by the time he got home at night, he would collapse, exhausted into bed. It was Wednesday before he even realized he hadn’t taken a dump since Monday morning.

“Dude,” Dean stated forthrightly to his partner, “I am so plugged up. This schedule is killing my ass, literally.” He laughed out loud as he cut one into the seat of the cruiser. “There’s a ripe one for ya, partner,” he smirked. “Oh, man, Dean; Jesus Christ, dude. Are you sure you’re not straight? Good God, roll your window down before you kill us both.” “Sorry man,” the hunky officer replied, hitting the down button on his window as he spoke. “Actually, not so much. Like you’ve never shared a stinker or two with me before. Don’t act all innocent.” “That may be, but I’ve never been so…crude about it. Be glad I like you so much, or I would push your ass out the door you SOB.” Paul chuckled as he spoke. He did think the world of his partner. The same man who just stunk up the interior of the car would give the shirt off his back to a total stranger if need be. That was their relationship…a bond of brothers. “Steer this thing towards a bathroom, dude,” Dean implored of his partner. “We haven’t had a call in almost ten minutes. Maybe I can squeeze this thing out before…” Just then another call came over the radio, a domestic dispute about ten blocks away. “Damn, I knew it was too good to be true. Oh well, I’m reduced to this,” he said, cutting another sharp one into the seat of the cruiser, laughing loudly like a big kid who got away with something. “I swear, it’s like having a 13 year old as a partner,” Paul replied, smiling as he quickly rolling his own window down, the heat and humidity quickly sucking the air conditioning out of the cabin.

The day concluded just like the last few, back to back calls. Dean hit the gym after shift, working out his massive physique, heading home and falling almost directly into bed, too tired to move.

He awakened the next morning and looked at his alarm clock. Damn, he forgot to set it. It was already 8:15am. He needed to be in morning briefing at 9am sharp. Leaping out of bed, he hustled to the shower, quickly rinsing off, jumped out and raced to the bedroom to get dressed. He ran for the door, the huge grogan in his ass strongly protesting its imprisonment. Arriving at the precinct with seconds to spare, he jogged to the door, hustling down the hall to the briefing room, making it just in time. “Wow,” Officer Ryan whispered to his partner, “that’s cutting it close.” “I overslept,”he whispered back. “Don’t worry about it, I made it on time, didn’t I?” Please tell me you got a chance to visit the porcelain throne between last night and now,” Ryan whispered back. “I can’t take another smelly day in the car with you.” “Sorry dude. No such luck. My inherent charm makes up for my stinky disposition, though.” He grinned broadly at his partner as he whispered in his direction, his good humor disguising his considerable discomfort.

Sergeant Cox stepped to the front of the room and barked loudly. “Ladies, pay attention. Let’s get this meeting gong. It’s been a busy week with the warm weather. We expect it to continue for the foreseeable future. Keep a sharp eye out and be on your toes. One important new development. Scotty Thurston, son of local entrepreneur and businessman Robert Thurston, disappeared late Sunday night. He is a student at the local university and was returning to his dorm from the library when he was last seen. He is 5’9 approximately 160 lbs, dark blond hair, hazel eyes. He has a muscular physique. His arms each have black ink tattoos of Zodiac signs above the elbow. He was last seen wearing a v-neck white t-shirt and baggy blue jeans. The family received a ransom demand Monday morning and, foolishly I might add, decided to heed the warning not to notify the authorities. They gathered and paid the substantial ransom Tuesday. When that did not result in the return of their son, they finally contacted police late last night. I have a photo of the young man. This picture was taken by a fellow student on his cell phone less than an hour before the disappearance in front of an art installation at the library, so you’ll notice he’s wearing the same clothing he was last seen in. Be on the lookout for anything suspicious. It is believed he is being held in this general area. That’s all gentlemen. Be careful out there.”

As the photo came around to them, Officer Brandt looked it over. Staring back at him was probably the best looking young man he had ever seen. He felt his dick stiffening inside his trousers as he studied the beautiful, chiseled face and cut body. “Jeez, man,” his partner said, looking over at the photo, ” What a handsome kid. I hope he’s all right. He looks like your type, Dean,” he joked, playfully jabbing his hunky partner in the arm with his elbow. “Shut up, Ryan,” he snapped back. “I hope he’s all right, too,” he whispered to himself. “Let’s get going.”

This Friday seemed a repeat of the last few days. They barely made it to their cruiser before the first call came in. They sailed from one call to the next with barely time to breathe, let alone anything else. After a quick bite, Dean was feeling tremendous pressure in his backside. He was literally in pain from the mass embedded in his colon. By 4:30 that afternoon, he was on the verge of explosion. Every time he relaxed his sphincter, the huge grogan poked its turtle-head out of his puckered hole. Worse still, he now needed a piss desperately. “Paul, dude. I gotta find a bathroom…soon. Man, I’m not going to be able to hold out mu…” Just then another call came over the radio. “Goddamn! What the hell, man. It’s like someone is out to get me.” “Well, Dean, you’re going to have to wait a little longer. You can do it, man.” He turned and gave his partner a I-know-how-you-feel look. He did, too. He had been in the same situation more than once. It was the nature of the business. Dean squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, grabbing his ample crotch as they sped to the next call. He took solace in the fact that this would be the last call of the shift. Little did he know…

This particular call was a report of suspicious activity around an abandoned house on the edge of town. The caller reported that no one should be in this residence, sequestered away on a large, treed lot in a rundown neighborhood on the edge of their patrol area. He had seen a person coming and going from the house over the last several days. The patrol car pulled up the long driveway to the house, hidden away behind a stand of overgrown trees and shrubs. You could barely even see the building from the street. As they got out, Dean cut a fart into the seat of his trousers, his turd pushing hard against his hole. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s here, now. Let’s investigate this and get the hell out of here. I’m about to bust.”

They climbed the three steps to the peeling, rotted porch, watching their step as they moved toward the front door. Officer Ryan grabbed the door handle, pushing it slowly open, the hinges squealing loudly in protest. “Police. Hello, anyone here?” “It looks aba…” Dean started to say, his partner suddenly shushing him. “Did you hear that?” Paul said. “Hello, police. Anyone in here?” he yelled out louder.

A noise came from somewhere in the back of the house. Both officers kicked immediately into threat mode, drawing their weapons and sweeping the house, room by room. “Clear!” Dean yelled to his partner from the kitchen, his back against the wall, weapon at the ready. “Hello, police. Identify yourself!” More noise, louder now, cam from the hallway to what once was the bedrooms. “Ryan, it’s coming from the bedroom.” He hurried down the hall, checking the old bathroom on the way. He reached the first bedroom door, flung it open, and swept his weapon in front of him.

It was dingy and incredibly hot and stuffy in this room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but his nose knew something was wrong right away. The room smelled like an outhouse. The noise was coming from the far wall on the left side, behind some old broken-down furniture. He moved in that direction, and stopped short, horrified at what he saw.

“Paul! Get in here, now!” He yelled to his partner. Seated on the floor against the wall was a familiar figure in a white, v-neck t-shirt and baggy jeans. “It’s the Thurston kid! Sweep the rest of the house!” He practically screamed, holstering his weapon and moving to the wall. He knelt down in front of the boy, his knee immediately becoming wet as it contacted the floor. “Scotty Thurston. Are you all right?” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The boy was restrained against the wall of the room. His muscular arms stretched behind him, disappearing into two long, vertical holes in the wall. A large, u-shaped iron bar was around the boy’s neck, also going into the wall. It wasn’t touching his neck, but just a few inches from his Adam’s apple. His mouth and nose were covered with a form-fitted mask, a hard tube going through it into his mouth. He reached out and touched it, the boy moaning as he did, his eyes wide and terrified. It was rubber, but hard underneath and sealed completely over both orifices. A thick leather strap at the bottom of the wall was threaded through the belt loops on the boy’s jeans, once again extending into the wall on both sides. “Oh my God, son, what have they done to you?” he muttered half to himself, as the scene in front of him soaked in.. The boy was completely immobile, save for his legs. His feet flat on the floor, they were drawn up to his body. Looking down at the floor, he saw why. He realized that a large pool of stale, cold piss was under him. He seemed to be trying to keep his legs out of it as much as he could. It was obvious he had been here since shortly after being nabbed. The crotch and seat of the young man’s jeans were soaked. It looked as though he had peed himself at least a dozen or more times. Hearing a muffled hiss, he realized the boy was adding to the puddle yet again, the stream bubbling through his pants as the scared man groaned helplessly.

“Jesus, man, we’ve got to get you out of here. Let’s get this mask off your face, dude.” “MMMM-MMMM. MMM-MMMMMMM!” The boy was shaking his head no, his eyes now wide with terror. “MMMM-MMMM!” His police sense kicked in. “Why, son? Will something happen if I do?” “MMMM-HHMMMM!!” His head nodded yes. Just then, he heard his partner enter the room behind them, the room that all these contraptions wet into through the wall. A couple of seconds later he heard, “What the fuck is this? Jesus Christ, Dean, get in here! Holy Shit, man!” Dean leapt to his feet, hustling out the door and down the hall the the room next door. As he entered, he saw Officer Ryan staring at the wall backing the room where Scotty was restrained, a look of horror on his face. He turned and saw what his partner was looking at. “What the HELL is THAT?” He uttered in disbelief. The partners moved further into the room, stopping in front the thing.

What stood in front of them was a large, iron contraption, unlike anything they had ever seen. All the various restraints holding the boy in place on the other side of the wall extended into this mousetrap-like maze of gears, levers, cogs and the like. They squatted down to study it more carefully. It was cage-like in construction. They could see the boy’s wrists and hands in the center. They were secured in a metal restraint consisting of a flat iron bar with two half-moon shaped indentations, in which the lad’s wrists were firmly held. The top was identical, scissored down and pinned, locking the young man in place. Dean recognized the design as a Civil War-era device called a Lilly restraint. The bar was stationary, but hooked to an arcing pivot. It looked as though it could move upward, far past the boy’s range of motion. The bar around his neck also was hooked to a series of cogs. It appeared that it was designed to retract into the wall, effectively choking the young man. The leather strap in his jeans was tensioned in place. At the top, the tube through which the boy was breathing extended into what looked like an aquarium pump, into which also was attached a nitrogen canister and what appeared to be a water tube for a refrigerator ice maker. This thing was right out of a ‘Saw’ movie. Every component seemed to be interconnected to the others. Any attempt to release any one component would set of a reaction that would, at best, severely injure, and at worst, kill the poor young man outright. The whole thing was connected to a car battery sitting on the floor.

Dean noticed a manila envelope attached to the contraption. He removed it and opened it, pulling out the letter inside. He began to read it out loud.


If you are reading this, congratulations. You have found the boy. Good luck in extricating him. The

device in front of you is an invention of which I am particularly proud. As you probably have noticed,

it is a self-collapsing system. Every restraint is tied to the others. An attempt to undo any of them

will result in severe harm or death to our young guest. If you attempt to power-down the unit by

disconnecting the battery, the manual override will set the cogs on the garrotte into motion, retracting the

bar around our young friend’s neck and strangling him. Attempting to undo the arm restraints will result

in the same. If you try to remove the mask, the resulting pressure change will cause the arm restraints to jerk

rather violently to the top of the arc, ripping the boy’s arms and shoulders out of their sockets and breaking

multiple bones. He will bleed to death internally before you can get him out. Try to remove the bar around

his neck, and the tube through which he is breathing will reverse pressure, creating a vacuum, causing an

extremely painful suffocation. The mask is formed around his head in one piece with no attachment in the

back and the tube is in one piece with it, so it can’t just be removed. The leather strap around his waist is

held by a tension that, if released, will shut down the power. As you can see, freeing the young man is going

to require someone of incredible wit, who can figure out the system and override it. I personally don’t think

it can be done, but who knows. By the way, the pump is there to create some delicious torture to our young

friend. Can you figure out what it does? Listen for the beeps and see for yourself.

The Sadist

“Holy fuck, Dean. What the shit do we do now?” Ryan said to his shocked partner. “Dude, I don’t know.” We’ve gotta get backup in here, now. Call it in. Tell them we need engineers…someone to figure out how to get him out of this thing. I’ve got to get back to him.” Dean hurried out of the room, ignoring his own ample discomfort. He returned next door and knelt down in front of the lad, the piss once again wicking into the knees of his uniform pants. “Scotty, Scotty, look at me. My name’s Dean Brandt. I’m a police officer. You are safe. We’re going to get you out of this thing, but it’s going to take some time.” “MMMMMMMM!!!!!!” The boy screamed through the mask. That was about the only sound he could make, as this thing was completely sealed over his nose and mouth. “Son, we’re going to get you out. Just be patient. Trust me.” The boy farted violently into the seat of his jeans. A few seconds later, he did it again. Dean began to notice that he could hear the boy’s gut rumbling with gas. He couldn’t figure out why at first. Looking down at the boy’s rump, he noticed that every time he passed gas, the denim fabric would tent out slightly, retreating when he stopped.

Officer Ryan entered the room and squatted down next to his partner. “I’ve called it in. They’re on their way. “Turning towards the lad, he said to him, “We’ll get you out, kid, believe me, we will.”  He tapped his partner on the shoulder and motioned for them to move out of earshot of the young man.  Dean stood up, farting into his trousers as he did. They moved towards the door. “Hey, man, some situation, huh.” Dean nodded in agreement. Ryan continued, “Look, they’re going to be here in a little while. I’ll stay with the kid. Go across the hall and use the john. The water’s on. I can hear the toilet running from here. Go on.” Dean started to comply, then stopped in his tracks. “No, man, I can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t.’ I’m telling you, I’ll watch the kid while you relieve yourself. Come on man. It looks like we’re going to be here awhile. Do it.” Officer Ryan was being his usual, responsible, fatherly self. Dean looked him in the eye, put his hand on his partner’s shoulder, and said matter-of-factly, “Paul, do me a favor. Go out front and watch for backup to arrive. Come check with me before they come in. Give me a moment with Scotty.” “No, man, come on. What do you…”

Just then they heard a series of short staccato beeps. Looking over at the boy, they could see him tense up. He began to scream into the gag. They rushed back to his side. He was breathing rapidly, his eyes wide and terrified. At the tenth beep, the boy drew a deep breath. They could hear the pump on the other side of the wall kick on. Something began coursing rapidly through the tube puffing the boy’s cheeks out above the mask. He was swallowing repeatedly, each one a loud, seemingly painful gulp. As they could do nothing to stop it, Dean studied the boy carefully, his mind deep in thought. After about 15 seconds, it stopped. The lad belched loudly into the tube, gasping for breath. He did it again. Dean turned to his partner, a look of horrified disbelief on his face. “I know what’s happening. Oh my fucking God, I know what this sick SOB is doing!” Officer Ryan looked his partner in the eye. “Dude, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?” “Aerophagia, forced aerophagia. Fuck, man.” “Aero…what?” Officer Ryan repeated. “Aerophagia. The bastard is pumping air through the tube. The water tube is pumping some water in with it. That way, he can’t breathe the air, he has to swallow it. It’s not a lot of water, but enough to keep him hydrated. That’s why he’s peeing so much.” He motioned to the substantial puddle on the floor. “And the nitrogen…Oh, man, that sick douchebag.” “Why, what’s that for, man? Tell me. I don’t understand.” “Okay,Paul, quick lesson. When you swallow air, you belch some of it back up. What you don’t passes into your digestive tract. Oxygen and carbon dioxide are absorbed through the intestinal walls. Nitrogen isn’t. It stays in your gut, causing gas. The nitrogen is causing massive amounts of gas.” Looking at the poor stud, he shook his head. The boy farted again and again. Turning and whispering to his partner, he said, “He’s got to be in agony. I’m sure he has massive cramping in his gut from all the gas. He has been here probably since Monday. Look at his butt. He hasn’t taken a dump since then. Remember I haven’t either, and I’m miserable. I can’t imagine what he feels like with that much shit up there and all the gas pushing against it.”

“Oh my God, dude,” Paul whispered back to his partner. Dean stood up, motioning for his partner to follow him to the door. Turning back to the boy, he said, “Scotty, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to talk to my partner over here for a minute.” The boy nodded. At the door, he whispered to Paul, “Go outside and wait for everyone to get here. Keep them out there until I call you and tell you to come in.” “What are you going to do, man?” Ryan whispered back. “Look man, the kid and I both need a shit something fierce. He isn’t going anywhere for who knows how long. I’m not leaving him in there to go in his pants while I go sit on a john and take a nice comfy crap. I can’t ask him to do something that I wouldn’t do myself.” “Are you kidding me, man?” Paul whispered back. “Dude, go take a dump, already. That bathroom’s right there.” “No. I’ve made up my mind. The kid’s embarrassed enough as is. I want to get him to take a dump before the place is crawling with people. Just give us some privacy until we’re through. Do this for me, buddy, please.” “Man, I love you like a brother, but you are one crazy sumbitch. You know that, huh. I’ll keep ’em outside until you’re done.” He threw his arms around his best bud and gave him a quick hug and back pat, then turned to go out front.

Dean returned to the boy and knelt down in front of him. “Scotty, look at me. This place is going to be full of people here in a little while. I know you haven’t shit since Monday. You need to relieve yourself.” Scotty shook his head no. “Listen to me, son. I know how you feel. I’m not leaving your side until you’re out of here, but I can’t tell you how long that’s going to take. It could be a few hours, but I have to be honest with you…it could take some time, maybe even days, maybe a week or…” Scotty was struggling violently, pain and terror in his eyes. “MMMMM-MMMM!!” “Scotty! Calm down. Tell you what we’re going to do. I haven’t gone since Monday, either. I need a bathroom something fierce. We’re going to do it together, just you and me. I’m not going to ask you to do something I wouldn’t do.” He formed his fingers into a ‘V’ and pointed them at the boy’s eyes, then at his own. “Just you and me, buddy. No one else is coming in until I say so. We’ve got privacy. Come on, man, what do you say. You’ll feel a lot better when it’s out, and I’m right there with you. Let’s do it.” The boy nodded weakly.


“Good. All right. Let me catch up first. I need to piss. I know you just went a little while ago.” Dean relaxed his prostate, and bore down. He needed to go so bad, it didn’t take a lot. The boy looked at his crotch as it darkened, the streaks running down his dark blue uniform trousers, staining them. The piss stream continued for almost a minute, dripping from his crotch and mingling with the urine already left on the floor by the lad restrained in front of him. As the stream abated, he squeezed out the last few drops. His bladder relieved, he now looked the boy intently in his hazel eyes. “See, I’m here with you until it’s over, dude. All right, let’s take care of the back side, now. Let’s do it together. Close your eyes and imagine you’re at home sitting on the toilet. Relax and bear down. Come on, push on it.” Dean farted into his trousers, the turd beginning to crackle out of his ass. Scotty contorted his face, farted twice into his jeans, and bore down, his abdomen contracting. “You’re doing good, son. Mine’s touching cloth.” The officer grunted quietly and bore down on his own load, pushing against the resistance as it squeezed into the seat of his pants. Looking down, he noticed that the young man’s jeans were tenting. “That’s good. You’re going to have to push harder now, to get it out. Come on, son, bear down on it.” The boy’s face reddened as he pushed, more farts accompanying its exit, tears running down his cheeks. Dean reached up and wiped them gently off with his huge thumbs. “It’s all right, Scotty. You’re almost done now.” They both finished, the room stinking of the mingled smells of their waste filling the small space. Officer Brandt put his huge paws on the solid shoulders of the helpless young lad. “You did good, Scotty. Don’t you feel better now” ? The boy nodded. “I’m going to call my partner now and let the others in. You ready for that”? He nodded again. The officer radioed his partner, “Okay Ryan, you can let ’em in now.” Dean sat down on the floor next to the scared young man, his poop squishing into his ass-crack as he did. He leaned against the wall just to the right of the boy and put his hand on the boy’s knee as the police, paramedics, and engineers entered.

“As long as it takes, bud, I’m right here. You just let me know if you have to go again, and I’ll clear ’em all out, okay?”

Withing minutes the house was swarming with people. The paramedics had the boy attached to various monitoring devices, an IV drip in his arm, providing nourishment. Dean sat right there, not moving, occasionally checking on the lad to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. He chatted about various topics, sports, cars, girls. Despite being gay, he understood enough about girls. He knew Scotty couldn’t say anything back, but he wanted to make everything as normal as possible. He was oblivious to the other people in the room; his only focus was the young man seated to his left. Whenever the boy had to relieve himself, Officer Dean cleared the people out to allow them privacy. They ended up being there for almost a week before the contraption was finally overcome and the boy released. They each ended up pooping themselves three more times, the hunky officer never leaving the room. There were a few scary moments when, in trying to disarm it, they triggered the machine, once almost choking the boy; another time cutting off his oxygen for over a minute. That one happened on the final night, not long before they got him out. They had both fallen asleep, Dean’s head resting against the boy’s shoulder. All of a sudden, the boy started kicking furiously, sucking at the mask, no air to be had. Dean awoke with a start, rolling over in front of the struggling lad. He beat on the wall furiously, almost fracturing a bone in his hand and screaming wildly. “Do something!!! He’s not getting air! Oh my God! Scotty, Scotty! Stay with me, man. Fuck!!! Get it back on! He’s going to suffocate!” Scotty’s face went from red to almost a mottled blue, purple, horrible sucking sounds coming from his mouth under the mask. His eyes were wide and watering. He began to involuntarily mess himself again, pee flowing into his jeans, and yet another turd pinching out into his overstuffed seat. Dean was frantic, a growling madman screaming and yelling through the wall. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the system came back on, feeding life-giving air to the young lad, his face returning to a normal color. Dean looked into the boy’s eyes. “Thank God, thank God. Scotty are you all right? Oh my God!” He realized he was crying, his cheeks wet with tears. He reached up and wiped them off with a swipe of his huge hands, sniffling, forcing a laugh and trying to regain his composure. Scotty stared deeply into his eyes, trying to non-verbally let him know he was fine now.

On the seventh morning the system was disarmed and the boy released. Dean helped maneuver his arms through the holes in the wall, knowing how stiff and sore he would be from almost two weeks of immobilization. He scooped the lad up in his strong arms, laying him on the stretcher and stroking his face gently. “You’re out now. You’re going to be fine.” He realized he was tearing up again. He stood there watching as the paramedics wheeled the boy out into the hall. Officer Ryan came into the room, walking over to his partner and putting his arm on Dean’s shoulder. “Dude, you never left his side for a minute. You are something else, ya’ know that? You also stink to high heaven, dude! Let’s get you home so you can clean up.” They started towards the door. Paul stopped, turning towards his partner. He put his arms around him and gave him a big bear hug. ” I love you, man. I just want you to know that.” “I love you, too, dude. Now get me home…I think I need a vacation.” “I’m sure you’ll get it, after all this, man,” Paul replied, grinning widely at his friend.

Dean took the next week off of work. He went to the hospital a couple of times to check on his new buddy. Scotty thanked him profusely for everything the officer had done for him. He was released after three days.

That Saturday night, Dean was splayed across his couch, watching TV, not really paying attention to what was on. Because of the heat, he was wearing only a pair of knit boxers, his muscular, toned chest glistening with a light coating of sweat. Just then, the doorbell rang. Puzzled, he got up and went over, opening it without looking to see who was there. A familiar face greeted him. “Scotty, what a pleasant surprise. How’re you doing, buddy?” “Hi, Officer Brandt.” “Oh, for God’s sake, call me Dean. After all we’ve been through…” he trailed off. “Can I come it, Dean”? “Sure thing, man.” Dean stepped aside, letting the handsome lad in. He seemed fully recovered, his athletic body returned after so much time in one place. “Sorry, let me go put something on. I should know better than to answer the door half-naked.” “Please don’t, Dean,” Scotty replied. “Look, I just want to thank you again for everything you did for me. You didn’t leave my side for a second. I can’t tell you what that means to me. I can’t tell you, but…” Scotty reached up, grasping Dean by the back of the neck, pulling the taller man’s head down and kissing him passionately on the lips. Dean swooned, kissing the lad back, starting to become erect in his shorts. He stopped and pulled back. “Look Scotty, are you sure? You don’t have to do this just because…” “Dean, please hear me out. I fell in love with you during this whole thing. You are the greatest guy I’ve ever met.” Dean started to protest, shaking his head. “Hold on, Dean. I’m an adult. I know what I want. I’m not a student and you’re not my teacher. There’s no law or statute against it. I want you. I want you bad and I want you now. Please say yes.” Scotty’s eyes pleaded with Dean; the handsome cop nodded. “Yes,” he said gently. Leaning down, he scooped Scotty up in his arms, much as he had done the week before, and carried him into the bedroom.

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  1. damn,this is hotter then your last story,I nearly busted when scotty messed the first time

  2. A delightfully different story – gr8, really enjoyed it.

  3. Fucking hot story! I love it when men in uniform and suits wet and mess themselves.

  4. Your stories are always the best! And I LOVE that you included those pictures so we get an even better idea of the hunks we’re reading about. More, MORE!

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