THE BOUNCER (Part 3) By TomJon Smith
The recorder felt heavy in my pocket. My hand kept touching it through the lining. It was small, only the size of a thumb nail, but it felt like a bowling ball.
My heart was racing. These were not the kind of people who would take kindly to finding a recording device in the pocket of their newest recruit.
I made the drive out of the city and into the countryside. It was amazing how quickly the city subsided into green. I was never comfortable out of the city. I liked pavements, signposts, traffic fumes. I followed the directions barked out by the satnav until I came to a set of black gates. I could see nothing over them or around them. A fence stretched away either side, its top glinting with broken glass set into concrete.
I pressed the intercom and told them I had an appointment. The gates slowly swung open and I drove my little car up the drive and towards what looked like a palace.
It was the biggest house I had ever seen. Its white walls were greened with ivy. Stone gargoyles draped themselves from every gutter. It was the kind of place that had a butler. But when I got out of the car and approached the front door, it was not a butler that greeted me.
`Mr Jones. So glad you could make it. I understand we have business to discuss.' The accent was thick and Russian and the hand that was extended belonged to the Russian Bear himself, Oleg Vazov.
/
Spending a night in police custody gave me some time to work out what was going on. I knew there was something dodgy happening at the club. There had always been a whiff of corruption going on. Jan and Danny were just the tip of the iceberg. I knew Vazov was dodgy but I also knew it was best not to ask questions and not to poke my nose in where it wasn't wanted.
I thought it better to get on with my job. But when I put two and two together I felt so stupid. Jan had never met Vazov as far as I knew but they had a connection. It was staring me in the face. And once I'd worked it out, I wish I hadn't.
Stories floated around about Vazov, about people disappearing, about prostitution. He owned nightclubs, like where I worked, but he also owned strip joints and, according to gossip, brothels.
And now I was on Vazov's doorstep, working for the vice squad, trying to prove the connection. If I was found out, I would be one of those people who just disappeared.
The first step was to arrange a meeting with Vazov. I phoned his office and left a message with his secretary. It was only seven words but it was enough to get his attention `Time to cut out the middle man.' From this he would know exactly what I knew about the drugs and where they were coming from.
`Come in, Mr Jones. Let us discuss... the situation.'
Vazov was wearing a white bathrobe. His thick mop of hair was slick against his skull.
`Please forgive me greeting you in such a manner of dress, Mr Jones. I have just finished my daily swim. I am lucky enough to have a pool in the basement so I can do my fifty lengths in privacy.'
He gestured for me to enter the house and I walked inside. It was as beautiful inside as it was outside. A huge staircase dominated the entrance hall, sweeping up to the two wings of the house. Paintings hung everywhere. A Picasso by the door. A Freud in the hallway. And these were not reproductions. Apart from the security guards that stood in doorways, the house seemed empty of people. I found this strange and a little disconcerting.
Sensing my apprehension, Oleg said, `My wife is visiting her mother in Moscow. She has taken the children with her. They forget their roots in these English schools.'
We sat in his office. The walls were panelled. Shelves were stuffed with books, most with Cyrillic lettering that I couldn't read. More priceless art works dominated the office. A Grecian urn with dancing, naked men painted upon it stood on a plinth and a small African tribal piece of a man with a large curved erection stood on his desk, like a mascot. He obviously liked the virility of the male form. Vazov got straight down to business.
`How did you find out about my... arrangement at the club, Mr Jones?'
`Because Jan is stupid and I am not,' I replied. Vazov laughed.
`That is something we most definitely agree on, Mr Jones. And now you want to cut Jan out of the picture? He may be stupid, but he is a good boy and he does what he is told. You, you I am not so sure about.' There was something very disconcerting about Vazov. The way he looked at me... I couldn't read him at all.
`I've done what I've been told too, Mr Vazov. I keep my nose clean, I don't meddle in affairs that do not concern me. But I have coppers sniffing about the place, asking staff questions. Jan draws attention. I'm good at diverting it.'
He weighed up what I was saying and read between the lines. I had no problem implicating Jan, he was a sadistic bastard. If Vazov wanted to believe he was playing for both sides, all the better for me. He came to a decision.
Very well, Mr Jones. I think we have come to an understanding. Jan will not be a problem any longer and when I shall deal with you directly from now on. We shall cut out the middle man' as you suggested.'
He stood up and I did the same. I felt the tiny recorder in my pocket, worried that it may have slipped out somehow, but it was still there. The meeting seemed to be over.
But I was wrong.
`Mr Jones. We must discuss a few further details. We are friends now, so let us do it in more comfortable surroundings.'
I could hardly say no. And so far I had proved nothing. I needed to make the connection. I followed Vazov through a concealed door in the panelling, knowing that I had to get the evidence from him somehow.
/
Oleg stripped the robe from his body. He was a very hairy man, a thick pelt of brown hair covered his skin. The only part of him that seemed to be bald was his penis. Large and uncut, it nestled like a new-born animal in its hairy nest. He hopped up the steps and into the hot tub, ducking under the water and emerging with all his body hair slicked against him skin
I removed my clothes, folding them up neatly onto an ornate chair, trying to make sure I kept my trousers on the top of the pile and the microphone just peaking out of the pocket.
The water bubbled around us, steam rising from the surface and reddening my face.
So, I can count on you to run all aspects of the club's business from now on,' Oleg asked. I nodded in affirmation. That is good. It will make things a lot simpler. Excellent.' He lurched through the water and shook me by the hand again. `This is going to be very lucrative. For both of us.' I smiled, weakly. I thought of the tiny recorder in my trouser pockets. It would never have been able to hear us over the bubbling of the hot tub.
`We must celebrate, you and I! We must seal our deal with a little fun. You do like to have fun, don't you?' Oleg cocked his head, smiling.
`Of course,' I said, not knowing what he meant at all. His eyes twinkled as he looked into mine. There was something a bit mad about his eyes, something dark and unsettling.
`Boris!' he yelled.
The bodyguard lumbered through the large doors.
`Yes, boss?'
`Send them in, Boris.'
He nodded and left for a moment, returning with two people I had not seen before. They were dressed for the hot tub already, in skimpy trunks. One was an Asian lad, not skinny at all, but lithe and gently muscled. His hair was shaved down to stubble. He reminded me of those Tibetan monks who do acrobatics. The other lad was blonde and pale and beautiful. He was curvy in all the right places. Oleg had obviously looked into my tastes. He was the spitting image of Steve, though not quite as heavy perhaps.
Oleg beckoned for them to join us and they clambered into the hot tub, the Asian lad heading straight under the hairy arm of Oleg, the blonde boy sitting next to me. The Asian stroked Oleg's chest, running his fingers through the thick curly hair. Oleg kissed him deeply, his hands grabbing the lad possessively.
Peter, I want you to meet Max' he gestured toward the blonde, and Xan. They work for me in another one of my businesses.' I didn't need to ask what kind of business. Xan had a small pouch in one of his palms and he gave it to Oleg. He tipped out the contents: a razor blade and a wrap of white powder.
We are all going to have lots of fun,' Oleg said. The lads giggled. Xan's hands disappeared under the water as Oleg began to cut the powder on the side of the hot tub. This is the good stuff,' he said. `The stuff our boys sell, I think it is mostly washing powder or some shit. But this, this will make you feel alive!'
Max was looking at me expectantly. I smiled, nervously. I wasn't sure what to do. I was trying not to look at him, but he had a very handsome face, more handsome than Steve, and with that little wobble of a double chin underneath. Smooth pink skin that, like mine, was blushing from the heat of the tub. Just above the water were his perfect upturned tits, a good handful each, with small nipples, budding into hardness. My dick began to stiffen despite myself. I could tell he knew. He looked down at the bubbling water expectantly.
Oleg had cut four lines. I'd never taken drugs. Not even pot. I thought of the recorder in my pocket. Was I meant to do this? Was I meant to go along with all this? Oleg took the first line, hovering it up a nostril with relish, passing the rolled up note to Xan. I desperately thought of a way that I could get out of all this without causing suspicion. It was hopeless.
And then I felt Max's hand wrap around my cock and the decision was made for me. I took the next line, trying not to sneeze.
Max's hand began to work my dick. I lay back and he moved next to me, attaching his mouth to my nearest nipple. I felt my pulse quicken and my meat harden as the heat from the tub flowed over me.
Xan was straddling Oleg and they were kissing deeply, Oleg's hairy hands were all over the lad's body, tracing the line of his spine down, beneath the water. Max followed suit and sat astride me, his hands swept over my chest, feeling the hardness, then around to my neck. His fingers caressed the soft nub of the back of my head and he leaned in to, kiss me.
Any resistance to the situation disappeared with that boy's tongue moving against my own. My hands were full of him. His body was hard and soft, relenting and relentless. His hand continued to stroke my dick beneath the bubbles. I wanted to stick it in him there and then, letting him ride me in the hot tub, our bodies hot and wet against each other.
Oleg had other ideas. Pushing Xan off him, he said, `Let's take this into the bedroom.'
/
I was nervous of getting out of the tub with an erection, but Oleg had no such qualms and he hoped out, water dripping from his cock. He began to towel off his hairy body whilst Xan dropped to his knees and sucked him off. Max got out of the tub and guided me into the adjoining bedroom. I felt shy but brazened it out somehow.
Oleg kissed Xan again, pulling him against his furry body. It was not a loving kiss, but hard and demanding. Xan tugged on Oleg's thick meat, his little hand could barely wrap around it. Suddenly, Oleg picked Xan up and threw him onto the bed. Xan knew what to do and got on all fours, sticking his arse up in the air, waggling it invitingly. My dick throbbed at the sight. Oleg winked at me.
`This is how we celebrate where I come from!' and without further ado, he spat down on the purple head of his dick, and jumped on the bed behind Xan. In a second he had impaled him with that glistening helmet and with a flick of his hips, the poor Asian lad felt Oleg immerse himself completely inside him. The Russian did not ease the boy in but just began to fuck him with hard, brutal thrusts. Xan gasped, making sounds of pleasure, but his eyes were watering. Despite myself, the sight of this Russian bear hammering away into this beautiful boy made me incredibly horny. Max had dropped to his knees and was looking up at me with hungry eyes.
This was the moment. The moment when I should have said no and walked away. But the truth is I didn't want to. I wanted to feel Max's lips against my tip, I wanted to feel what it was like to penetrate his tight hole.
`Let him suck you off. My boys are known for their oral skills!' Oleg said, his hips flexing against Xan's taut buttocks.
Max did not need telling twice. He took my stiffened dick inside his mouth and began to work my foreskin loose from my helmet. Oleg was right about Max's skills. His tongue was ceaseless. It undulated and pulsed, slicked and probed. His lips, plump and soft like the rest of him, worked my veiny shaft. He rubbed my helmet against the inside of his cheeks and I gasped with pleasure, knotting the bed sheets around my hands as I concentrated on not blowing my load down his welcoming throat.
I couldn't take it any longer and pushed Max away. I needed to be inside him. Vazov watched as I got Max onto his front and parted his legs, kneeling behind him. There was no need to grease him up. Between his cheeks was the flat end of a butt plug.
`My boys are always prepared!' Vazov boasted, his hairy nutsack slapping against Xan's smooth thighs.
Slowly, I eased the plug from Max's hole. He moaned in pleasure as his ring stretched around the plastic. He moaned again when it was replaced by the wide spur of my manmeat. The plug had loosened him up enough to start fucking straight away and I got on with the job, hammering into him just as Vazov had to Xan. Vazov's eyes glinted with unbridled lust as he watched me fuck his whore. And Max was loving it. He arched his back and begged me to fuck him harder. I did so, feeling my cock piston up his tunnel, feeling his flesh mould to me. I gripped his hips and my arse was a blur as I pounded him. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. In my head he was Steve, that beautiful lad I had had a thousand times and every time was like the first time. And then he was Victor, a man I thought I knew but didn't. And then he was Danny. The thought of Danny nearly drove me over the edge but I pulled out of Max, my dick glistening with lube.
Fierce with lust, I pulled Max over. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to banish those others from my mind and concentrate on not finishing too quickly. I sensed Vazov was enjoying watching me fuck this boy and I didn't want to disappoint.
Max looked up at me. I couldn't tell if he was enjoying being fucked so hard or was just going through the motions. Truth be told, I didn't want to know. I took my cock in hand and plunged into him again. I pinned him down to the bed as I took him, my hands on his beautiful tits.
Oleg was taking Xan with long, powerful strokes. He smacked the lad on his hind, `Open up, bitch, take my thick dick!' He rode him like a jockey, pulling the lad's head back as he fucked him. The contrast of this hairy, muscular man and the small, smooth lad was a sight to behold. Xan arched his back and met the thrusts of his assailant, calling out for Oleg to stick it in deeper. The boy was insatiable. A devilish smile came over Oleg's face.
`Mr Jones, I think I may need your help with this boy.' He tapped Xan playfully on the arse and withdrew. Xan's hole gaped open invitingly.
I couldn't resist. I yanked myself out of Max again and laid down on the bed, my cock jutting up like a pillar. Xan knew exactly what to do. He straddled me and pushed his open arsehole against my helmet. I slid in easily the first few inches and was then met by tightness. Xan exhaled deeply as he pushed against me and down against my pubis. He was beautifully tight: I winced with the pleasure as my dick was consumed by his hole. Xan tugged my nipples as he rode me, his fingers raking against the muscular pads of my pectorals.
Oleg was enjoying a kiss with Max, his hairy hands roughly kneading his flesh.
I lay back and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of Xan's expert internal muscles pulling at my rigid dick.
Then Xan flattened himself against me and I felt hairy legs against my own. Oleg was kneeling behind Xan. The boy's eyes flashed wildly – he knew what was coming next. I felt the hot hard head of the Russian's cock against my own. He gripped the boy's hips and pulled him back against our combined thickness. Somehow, Xan's hole stretched to take us both. It was incredibly tight, for a second I worried that we would cleave the poor boy in two, but he was made of sterner stuff. I kept still as Oleg moved, his shaft slipping against mine. Xan cried out. I held his thighs, securing him down as we slowly fucked him. Oleg's slow movements had loosened him a little and I flexed my hips, our cocks sliding against each other in synchronisation. At first he pushed in as I withdrew, pumping into him in double time. Max was behind Oleg, his hand reaching around his hairy torso and playing with his big brown nipples. Oleg's face was a mask of ecstasy and screwed up in concentration. I felt the hairiness of his thighs against mine and his large tufted nutsack against my own as we fucked the boy.
The tempo changed and we began to thrust into Xan together. He met the thrusts with gusto, begging for our seed. He seemed to be an almost trance-like state, murmuring for us to fuck him harder, to come inside him. I'd never felt so powerful. Oleg and I fucked him in unison, our hands holding his body, our bodies glistening with sweat, our penises impaling him. Xan's face was twisted with pleasure and above him, Oleg's was flushed with lust.
Suddenly, Oleg let out a roar and collapsed on top of us, pining Xan's slim, beautiful body between us. Oleg gripped my shoulders and I felt his dick spasm against mine inside Xan's stretched hole. His semen flooded over my knob, his helmet pulsing out a thick stream of seed. He smiled as his orgasm began to recede, kissing Xan's nape.
I didn't want to finish inside him, so when Oleg was ready, I pulled Xan off our cocks. My dick was laced with his white sperm. It dribbled from Xan's hole and over my stomach.
`Don't waste it!' Oleg ordered. Obediently, the two lads licked up the pool of thick semen from my stomach and then from my still stiff erection. They cleaned my prick, their tongues wriggling over me, tasting the Russian's salty sperm. And then, blissfully, they worked their mouths together, their wet lips stroking my cock up and down, their tongues probing the head for pleasure points. Oleg urged them on, his dick softening between his legs.
I could stand the pleasure no longer and finally I let myself go. Spunk fired into the air in long white ribbons, splattering Max's face and oozing down Xan's little hand. They ate the seed hungrily, squeezing the last drop from my bell-end before falling back on to the bed, stroking my body until I got my breath back.
TO BE CONTINUED