A Third Very Dirty Dozen: The Very Dirty Dozen Story Collections, #3

By Hank Edwards

Hank Edwards has chosen 11 more hot short stories previously published in erotic magazines and anthologies, plus 1 never before published story, for this third collection of short, steamy fiction. Settle in and get worked up over "The Arrangement," "Hydrant Duty," or "Men Well Met." You'll meet horny college students, a studly fireman, a hotter-than-he-has-a-right-to-be senior working security, and one heck of a sexy cub knight in training, just to name a few. Keep this third collection of hot, sizzling stories handy, because you'll definitely want to keep coming back for more!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hank Edwards
• Release date: Jun 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223979951

Hank Edwards

Hank Edwards has been writing gay erotic fiction for more than twenty years. He has written over two dozen novels and even more short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romance, rom-com, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy. Find out more at www.hankedwardsbooks.com.

Book preview

A Third Very Dirty Dozen

A THIRD VERY DIRTY DOZEN

THE VERY DIRTY DOZEN STORY COLLECTIONS

BOOK 3

HANK EDWARDS

MITTEN GINGER MEDIA

COPYRIGHTS

Copyright © 2022 by Hank Edwards

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Police Escort was previously published in Mach, issue #46, September 2000

Condo Cop, was previously published in American Bear, issue 56, September 2003

Pinned, was previously published in Full Body Contact: Sexy, Sweaty Men of Sport, Alyson Publications, 2002

The Arrangement, was previously published in Dorm Porn: Steamy Tales of Boys on Campus," Alyson Publications, 2006

Spin Cycle, was previously published in Dorm Porn 2: More Steamy Tales of Boys on Campus," Alyson Publications, 2007

Sticky Fingers, was previously published in Working Stiff: True Blue Collar Porn," Alyson Publications, 2006

Going Down?, was previously published in 100% Beef, Issue #32, 2007

Hydrant Duty, was previously published in 100% Beef, Issue #36, 2008

Breakfast in Bed, was previously published on eroticdreamspublishing.com, July 2006

Laid to Rest, was previously published in Tales from the Den: Wild and Weird Stories for Bears, Bear Bones Books, 2010

Men Well Met, was previously published in Bear Lust: Hot, Heavy, Hairy Fiction, Alyson Publications, 2004

Southpaws copyright 2022

Cover art by Ron Perry Designs

CONTENTS

Police Escort

Condo Cop

Pinned

The Arrangement

Spin Cycle

Sticky Fingers

Going Down?

Hydrant Duty

Breakfast In Bed

Laid to Rest

Men Well Met

Southpaws

About the Author

Also by Hank Edwards

POLICE ESCORT

This was one of my first stories accepted for publication, back in 2000. It was included in issue 46 of Mach magazine in September 2000, and it kicked off several years of short story writing for me, which I then sold to print magazines, and some online sites. I had (okay, still have…) a thing for men in uniform, and I based the setting of this story on a neighborhood gay bar. I’ve done some editing on the story, but kept the writing style the same, and I’m proud of how much I’ve grown as a writer over the years. So, without further ado, please enjoy the ride…

POLICE ESCORT

Having worked at Rod’s, a gay bar just outside Detroit, for going on five years, I was the senior bartender and therefore responsible for dropping off the night deposit after the bar closed. The owner never stayed around long enough to do it himself; he always picked up some young twink around eleven and left the closing to me.

I had just locked up on a cold night in February and was walking through the parking lot to my car. I turtled my head down between my shoulders in an attempt to ward off the bite of the wind and tucked the bank deposit bag under my arm. The wind masked the footsteps behind me until it was too late. The bastard hit me in the back of the head and shoved me to the snow-covered parking lot. He ripped the deposit bag from my grasp and took off running.

It took me several minutes to clear my vision and stagger to my feet. I made it back to the bar, got inside, and called the police. As I waited for the cops to arrive, I nursed the lump on the back of my head with a towel full of ice. Whatever the fucker had used it sure raised a hell of a lump.

Fifteen minutes later I was surprised by a heavy pounding on the door. Were the police here already? Usually when I called the cops for some rowdy drunks or a bitch fight it took almost an hour for them to arrive, and by then I had handled the issue. Maybe it was the mugger, disappointed with our night’s till and coming back for more? I slipped out of the booth and approached the door.

Who is it? I called out in my deepest voice.

Police, came an even deeper response. Someone called in a report of a robbery.

I raised my eyebrows at the timber of the man’s voice and twisted the lock. A tall, dark, hulk of a man stood in the dim orange glow thrown off by a nearby streetlight. He was at least six foot four and had to weigh in at 225 if not more. From the broad shoulders and narrow waist, muscle accounted for most of his body mass. His hat sat square on his head and his broad shoulders stretched the dark police issue jacket. His badge caught the lights from the interior of the bar and threw them back at me. I was stunned into silence for a few moments.

You, um, did call in a robbery, didn’t you? he asked hesitantly.

Yeah, I squeaked, then cleared my throat and stepped aside to allow him to enter. Yes, I did. The guy hit me on the head as I was leaving and took the night deposit bag.

He walked past me and I smelled the musty fragrance of his scent mixed with coffee and tinged with sweat. I swooned a little as I shut and locked the door behind him, then told myself it was from the blow to the head and not the cop. Turning, however, I caught sight of him in the light as he removed his hat and almost fainted dead away.

He was the most gorgeous hunk of man I had seen outside of a rented fuck flick. His dark, thick hair was cut short and his square jaw, brushed with the dark shadow of his beard, contained the slightest hint of a cleft in the middle. Full lips and dark, dark eyes completed his beauty.

I immediately retreated to the booth and sat down, hiding my sudden erection beneath the table.

Are you okay? he asked. Do you require medical attention? His voice rumbled straight to my crotch.

No, was all I could say in response. He gave me a puzzled look and I laughed nervously then showed him the wet towel I had kept pressed to the back of my head the last few minutes. They hit me with a sock of sand or something, it didn’t break the skin. I just have a small goose egg.

He nodded and stepped forward to slide into the booth across from me. His knees brushed mine and electricity winged its way to my stomach. He removed his jacket and I marveled at his shoulders as he pulled a notebook out of his shirt pocket.

While he asked questions and took notes, I stared at the dark hair that flecked the backs of his hands, following it with my eyes as it worked its way under the sleeves of his shirt. I have a weakness for, of all things, hairy forearms. I love a man with hair, preferably dark and Mediterranean, just like this cop sitting across from me.

He introduced himself as Officer Tony Contronio. Italian, gorgeous, and a cop; I must have been hit harder than I thought and was even now lying in the parking lot dreaming all of this. If that was the case, I really hoped I didn’t wake up any time soon. I noticed with a sudden flutter in my stomach that Tony wore no wedding ring. How had this guy escaped the clutches of any woman looking to settle down? I wouldn’t allow myself to fantasize that he might be hot and gay. And if he was gay, surely he had a boyfriend, I mean, come on. He took down all the information on the robbery and before I knew it the interview was over. He clicked his pen and stuck it in his shirt pocket along with his notebook and turned his dark eyes to my blue ones.

You like working here? he asked casually, as though he had just wandered in and ordered a beer.

Yeah, I replied stupidly. It’s good money and I meet a lot of people.

He raised his eyebrows. Meet a lot of people or fuck a lot of people?

I hesitated uncertainly. Where was he going with this line of questioning? I decided to play it cool and shrugged, averting my eyes and tossing the damp towel onto the bar. I’m pretty choosy about who I fuck.

Yeah? He nodded and looked around again. Me too.

Really? I prompted, knowing that a cop with his looks could afford to be choosy, whereas a bartender like me, with thinning blond hair and not a lot of inclination to exercise, couldn’t afford to be that choosy.

Really. He turned back to me. Do you go for cops?

My mouth went dry, and when I swallowed it felt like my spit had turned to sand as a blush burned its way up my face. Well, yeah. What red-blooded gay man doesn’t?

Interesting. He nodded slowly, his eyes still on mine. Do you like me?

Oh, shit, I thought. Was this a trap? Could he arrest me, or, worse yet, beat the shit out of me and claim I was coming on to him and had faked the robbery? A twister of images containing court rooms, hospitals, and unemployment lines spun through my head, but before I could consider it, I said outright, Oh, yeah.

His lips parted in a seductive smile and he nodded slowly. Good, because you’re the best looking victim I’ve seen tonight.

Oh yeah? My voice quavered and I cursed myself quietly. Is that a compliment?

I meant it as one. He slid out of the booth and moved to my side, blocking my exit with his body, his hips level with my face. He reached out and ran a gentle hand through my wavy blond hair. Blond hair, blue eyes, goatee. Everything I look for in a man.

I lowered my gaze from his dark, Italian eyes and focused on his crotch where his interest was becoming more and more evident. My already pulsing hard-on throbbed in anticipation, and I watched in fascination as his big, hairy hand pulled down the zipper of his perfectly pressed uniform pants. He removed his gun belt, then unfastened the buckle on the leather belt around his waist. His pants sagged open and I almost gasped. He wore a dark blue jockstrap and the head of his cock poked out from beneath the waistband.

Oh my God, I whispered as I stroked his hairy thighs and stared at the bulging package before me. I was afraid to touch his cock for fear of him pulling away, but it was so beautiful. My mouth watered at the pre-cum oozing from the slit, and I finally ran my hand up and over his cock, squeezing the pulsing length of him through the thin fabric.

Oh, yeah, he groaned, tipping his head back. Squeeze it hard.

I complied and his hips eased forward. I pulled the waistband of his jockstrap out and down, releasing his thick cock and low hanging balls. Tony was hung like a bull. His cock was olive colored, even the circumcised head. The balls were heavy and completely free of hair. If his five o’clock shadow was any testament, he probably had to shave them every day. A quick film clip of Tony in the shower ran through my mind. He had one leg up on the edge of the tub as he shaved his balls and jerked off before work.

I leaned forward and took him all the way down my throat in one gulp, tasting the pre-cum and sucking every ounce from him I could. I love the smell and taste of cum, and nothing turns me on more than getting a face full of jizz and sucking the guy dry after he’s done. My left hand found his balls and gave them a gentle tug as my right hand reached up to unbutton his shirt.

Oh, fuck, he groaned and buried his hand in the back of my head, miraculously missing the spot where I had been clubbed. Suck that cock, that’s it. Come on, take every inch.

I happily satisfied his request as I opened my jeans and pulled out my own painfully hard cock and stroked it. Tony pumped his hips, plunging his cock deep into my throat with each thrust. I gagged a bit and fought to relax my throat to accommodate his length and girth.

Pull on my nuts, he said, reaching down to grab the skin of his balls and stretch it out as far as he could. Just like this. Pull on the sack.

I grabbed the loose skin of his balls and pulled down hard as I sucked his cock for all I was worth.

Fuck! he shouted, throwing his head back and slapping both hands on the back of my head. I winced as he hit the tender spot, but ignored it, relishing the feel of his pubic hair scratching my nose. I breathed in the manly smell of his crotch as I choked down his thick cock. In moments, he was fucking my face with abandon, pounding his cock into my throat as I pulled on his balls. Yeah, baby! Oh, yeah! Shit, suck that cock. Come on!

Moments later, he slowed his thrusts, and then pulled back completely, his cock slipping out of my mouth and his balls pulling free from my grasp. He shuffled back and leaned against the bar, his hazy, lustful eyes locked on mine as he kicked off his boots. He stepped out of his pants and jockstrap, and then pulled his boots back on. Shrugging his broad shoulders out of his shirt, he then peeled the white T-shirt beneath to expose a muscular, hairy chest. His nipples were the size of nickels and stood out in hard points in the cool air of the bar. His arms bulged with muscles that tensed each time he stroked his cock. Standing by the bar wearing just his boots, he pulled lazily on his dick and nodded to me.

Strip.

I did as he ordered, standing up and kicking off my boots then shimmying out of my jeans and boxers. I pulled off the flannel shirt and tank top and stood before him in my socks, all six foot, 185 pounds of hairy-chested man. I mentally congratulated myself on staying away from carbs the last three months as I stared at him and stroked my cock.

You’re pretty fuckin’ hot, bartender, he said and walked toward me again. Sit back down.