This story celebrates the joy of sex as it is experienced by a bisexual leatherman and his friends. The protagonist is a pansexual version of a Tom of Finland hero, a man who likes to wear boots and leather breeches when he fucks. In Part One he has been hanging out with the leatherboys, resulting in some very satisfying orgasms. In Part Two he tried his luck with the ladies, but he ended up getting off on the straight guys that fuck them. In Part Three he finds a buddy with whom he can face his pansexual future. The aim of this tale is to make you cum hard, and hopefully to tempt some of you bisexual and heterosexual men to try on some leather. Remember, this is a sexual fantasy, I am not promoting violence or disrespectful behaviour towards women, gay men or anyone else. Enjoy!
*****
By the time I had finished tidying up myself in the men's room, it was 2 am. The late shift would soon arrive. Nobody left the bar at this point. We all waited for the arrival of these leathered night heroes, those tireless motorcops that after working hard maintaining law and order would be in bad need for sexual relief. I figure it must have something to do with the leather uniforms that makes the cops at this station such horny fuckers. Most of these guys, while dutifully doing their work, would have been fantasizing about sex. Impatiently, they would have been looking forward to 2 am, when their shift ended and they could finally make their way here. At long last, they would be able to insert their aching poles into a welcoming cunt or whatever cavity was available, and fill it up with fresh cop cum.
I positioned myself strategically in the front bar and watched the first groups come in, mainly younger cops with plenty of sexual energy to spare. Initially sticking together, their horniness made them soon turn away from their palls and check out the sluts that had been watching them since they walked in. Then, one after the other disappeared into a private cabin with a chick or two, a cuckolding couple or whatever they were into. I wished there were camera's in these cabins, so we could all enjoy the hard fucking that went on there.
For me, it really was time to call it a day. I was spent, I was longing for my bed, and even though the arrival of the night shift had brought a new surge of energy with it, I was not able to prop myself up. It was then, when I was lingering, that the Perfect Leather Fucker walked in. My hart skipped a beat and then switched over to beating twice as fast as normal. Damn it. This guy! I had seen him before, and he had spoiled a few of my nights out by making me realize that he was the Perfect Fucker and I could never be like him. Nor would I ever have him, he was far too heterosexual and intimidating. I knew I should have left the bar then and there, I would have spared myself a lot of grief. However, I was mesmerized by his perfect looks, so I stayed and watched him.
There he was, the perfect leather-clad super-masculine blatantly heterosexual fucking cop-god. This was the man I would have liked to be, sexier than any fucker I had ever laid eyes on. He was a Nordic type, slightly taller than me, 6'3'' or 6'4" perhaps, same build more or less, grey-blue eyes, short blond hair, and so fucking handsome. His angular features, his masculine clean-shaven jawbones, his strong-willed gaze, his bright smile, it all seemed to come straight out of a Tom of Finland storybook. What really did me in, was that he wore a leather SS-style uniform with tall riding boots. O.M.G.!
The leathercop looked around the bar, a benign smile on his face, enough to make anybody go weak in the knees. Whoever had watched this guy before, knew that he was selecting his prey. He was the predator, the one who picked. Everybody else was passive. It was pointless to try and make yourself available to this guy, it wasn't up to you; even the sluttiest barsluts knew that. If this guy picked you, you were just lucky. His eyes paused on the skinhead's girlfriend, sitting by herself on a bar stool at the other end of the bar. The skinhead must have left, annoyed perhaps that his fuckmate was stolen from him. Everybody's eyes were on the punk girl, as it was clear that the leather cop-god had made his choice. She complied, of course she did. Nobody resisted this man. He was god!
The cop-hunter finished his drink. He beckoned the girl, with a black-leathered finger, as if she was a schoolgirl. She slowly approached him, hypnotized by this leather-clad cop-god, caught in his fixating gaze, watched by everybody else. When she stood in front of him, she trembled, naked, vulnerable, such a contrast with this intimidating man in his black leather uniform. He inspected her as a prisoner during roll call, then indicated that she must turn around. She complied. Ignoring the onlookers, he unzipped his fly and pulled his mighty cock out, already erect. He calmly stroked it but furthermore remained passive, sovereign, powerful, almighty like a god.
She knew instinctively what this cop-fucker was after. Also, she had observed him with other women. He was the one in control but the women had to do the work. Without turning around she slowly moved closer to him. Blindly, she reached out for his breeches, his crotch, then his cock. Shuffling further back, she cautiously positioned herself on his hard-on. She offered him the choice, cunt or ass; it went straight up her cunt. We all watched in awe. A beautiful naked woman impaling herself on a leathercop's boner. Simple, beautiful. She was well aware of the attention she was getting from the bar crowd but she was proud to be this cop-fucker's chosen one, even if it was only for once. Without squirming too much she brought herself to a series of quiet climaxes. He peaked too, controlled, without movement, still sovereign. He looked us all in the eyes, while his sperm gushed into her womb. We were all outshined. Indeed, O.M.G., and fuck him!
I so much wanted to be this man, I wanted to be her as well, him, her. Impossible! I could never reach that level of perfection. After watching this leather cop-god, how was I to continue? I felt everything I had enjoyed that evening had been nullified by his performance. I felt shaken, humiliated, depressed and at the same time incredibly turned on by this man. I found it impossible to go home after this. What could be more depressing then to lie in bed and jerk off to the image of this superior man, and then, after ejaculating, having to face oneself?
Defeated, I withdrew into the in between darkroom. This was a narrow space connecting the two bars that comprise the Recreation Area. It's a darkroom where men of various sexual orientations are able to meet in almost total anonymity. Only a single faint red light allowes a glimpse of a figure or a face. I knew my way around, and absentmindedly joined a group of leathermen doing various things with each other. Horny men, no doubt, but I couldn't be less interested. I couldn't be bothered to take my dick out. I just stood there, staring into the void, shaken, confused, fucked up by this guy.
Then there was a hand on my shoulder. I stepped aside, thinking someone wanted to get past, or take my place in the group. No problem, I wasn't participating in their game. The hand remained on my shoulder. I turned around. It was him.
I freaked out. "Jesus, man! What the fuck do you want?!"
"You. I want you. I've been trying to hunt you down for more than a year. I really want you. Please don't say no."
"No way, man, fuck off! You're making fun of me!" Frustration, jealousy, anger, disbelief, hope; my head was spinning.
"I'm not making fun of you. I want you to be my fuck buddy. You and I are going to fuck the whole world. Together we will be amazing."
Because of the darkness I didn't see very much, but I could tell we were creating quite a scene in the backroom. The men standing around had stopped making out with each other and were listening in.
My head kept spinning, I wavered and tarried: "What the fuck are you saying, man...!"
"I'm telling you that you and I are going to be amazing. Do you realize it was me earlier on, kissing you in the jerk-off circle in the back bar?"
"Wha-at? That couldn't be you...! You were at work!"
"I was. But I sneaked out for half an hour. I know, I'm a bad boy. But I knew I would find you there. I was desperate to see you. Seeing you at your best, being the unrestrained sexual animal that you are. Not like the star-struck wimp that was watching me in the bar ten minutes ago."
