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He goes back with me as far back as elementary school, and I trust him as much as I would trust any lawyer.”“Hey!” he protested.I waved Bo to silence, and said to him, “And this is Ralph Hurston and Jerry Wolinski. They’re on the Drug Task Force with the MPD.”Bo nodded. “I’ve met you both professionally, at least around the courthouse.” Bo looked at me. “So, what’s going on? Why am I spending a perfectly miserable Saturday afternoon drinking beer with a bunch of cops and not keeping my children out of my wife’s hair, thereby earning me Brownie points for later this evening?”“One of our favorite people has come to our attention, in a professional manner, so to speak,” I answered.“Who?”“Candy Pants Holden,” I replied, smiling.The effect was all I could ask for. Bo coughed up some beer and snorted more out his nose. “Please, don’t joke about that! Are you for real?”“As real as death and taxes.”“Okay, I’m in, whatever this is,” he answered. To Ralph and Jerry, he explained how he had. He put one hand behind my head, and pushed his steaming cock past my tonsils, and right down my throat. He pulled back quickly, then, thrust his hips forward, burying his cock so deep, that his balls slapped under my chin. I was completely shocked, and my face was turning bright red. On his third push, he held his cock steady in my throat for several seconds. “Breathe!” he reminded me, as tears ran down my cheeks. I finally calmed myself down enough to catch my breath, and my throat relaxed against his pounding manhood fucking my throat repeatedly and relentlessly. Mack was getting even more out of control behind me, as he watched his cohort deep throating me so f***efully. He banged his hips against my ass, pulling my hips back to meet his with each new stroke. All at once, they both pulled out of me, and switched places. They must have used some kind of hand signal, because their timing was impeccable. It was like some kind of new Olympic event: synchronized fucking, or something..
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