(another delivery from my dirty mind to yours)
“We, the jury, find the defendants, James Creech, Matt Peters, and Carl Wilson, GUILTY of the crime of armed robbery in the first degree.”
The burly defendants glared at their attorney. “You sonofabitch, you fucked up royally! What kind of lawyer are you?“ “We’ll git yer fuckin’ ass!” The two big bailiffs on duty stepped up to cuff the convicted men. All three criminals were big, strong guys, used to quick reactions, and had survived many a knife fight. The prisoners spun and struck the officers on their forearms hard enough to make them lose their grips on their handcuffs. Creech grabbed the cuffs as Peters and Wilson wrestled the officers to one side of the room. Fast as lightning, the hapless, outnumbered bailiffs found themselves cuffed to a heavy rail bordering the jury box. One of each man’s wrists was locked to the rail, their other ones cuffed together. The officers essentially immobilized, Peters stayed with them. His buddies turned their attentions to Mr. Jack McGwire - a former baseball player, handsome, with thick auburn hair and a well-groomed mustache.
McGwire gasped as Creech pulled his arms behind his back, bent him over slightly, and Wilson hooked his fingers into each back pocket of the attorney’s charcoal gray pinstripe trousers. Wilson grabbed the pockets, pulled them hard in opposite directions and -
Jack’s eyes widened and he gasped as he felt his pants splitting from the back waistband down to past the crotch seam! Wilson gave one more terrific tug and
The whole courtroom was treated to a view of the humiliated attorney’s firm beefy buttocks and well-packed crotch, clad in snugly tapered, ass- and thigh-hugging, red-and-white striped, very thin cotton boxer shorts. Blushing as red as his little moustache, Jack felt his coat yanked off by the furious Creech. By this time Wilson had unbuckled his belt, destroyed the front waistband and fly, and yanked the ruined trousers down to the lawyer’s ankles! McGwire had always kept himself in very good condition, and it showed. The dark blue double-grip sock garters holding up his black silk dress socks set off perfectly his thick red-furred thighs and well-developed calves.
The jury and spectators were in a tumult. The judge, stunned, shouted, “order, ORDER!” as the bailiffs struggled to free themselves, and McGwire, his hands momentarily free, tried to gather his ruined pants.Bending over only emphasized the roundness of his buttocks and the tightness of his boxers, but he was oblivious in his embarrassment. A number of spectators had quite different feelings as they scrutinized his inappropriately bared “physical attributes.”
From the time the verdict was read until McGwire’s trouser-destruction, less than 20 seconds has elapsed. Wilson and Creech were too damned fast to be stopped. Peters was no slouch either; he’d divested the bailiffs of their caps, gun belts, AND their uniform shirts, and was now holding McGwire’s arms behind his back. Now stripped of jacket, shirt, and tie, the infuriated and deeply humiliated attorney stood clad only in his boxers, dress socks and garters, and well-shined shoes. His trousers had been so trampled and ripped that they’d come off over his feet. Compact and strongly built, he looked both ridiculous and remarkably handsome and virile, writhing and swearing in Peters’ grasp. Creech and Wilson were busy humiliating the already out-of-uniform cops.
Before the bailiffs knew it, they found themselves pantsed clear down to their regulation well-shined dress shoes! Except for their underwear, and the thin black nylon over-the-calf socks clothing their well-turned lower legs, both officers were buck naked from the waist down. Officer Lombardo had donned a pair of very skimpy sheer black bikinis - which he certainly expected to keep well-hidden under his uniform. The front of the briefs allowed his bush to peek above the waistband in front, and showed the top of the shamed cop’s furry buttcrack in back. The lower halves of his big hard cheeks pushed up the rear leg bands of the too-small bikinis. The fabric was so transparent it only accentuated the embarrassing exposure of thick black pubes, heavy uncut cock and balls, and hard deep-cracked buttocks. The blushing Italian hunk knew everyone present was getting a good long look not only at his hairy goods and rump, but his rather unusual taste in undergarments - if such flimsy, sheer underthings even deserved the name. His dark leg fur curled abundantly from the tops of his dress socks, making him the perfect image of compromised masculine pride.
Unable to move, let alone hoist up his trousers, Lombardo stood butt-bare in public and embarrassed as hell. Not that his body was anything to be ashamed of. Broad shoulders, muscled back tapering to a trim waist, a dark-furred big-nippled deep chest, hard flat belly, long corded thighs…quite the hunk. As if this non-consensual strip show failed to shame Lombardo sufficiently, Creech grabbed the rear waistband of the bikinis, and gave the big bailiff a hellacious wedgie!
Creech yanked and yanked till Lombardo was up on his toes in his glossy lace-ups. The briefs vanished into his crack, exposing his entire backside; his cock and balls ached from their tightening pouch. He was, even completely humiliated, a fine specimen of manhood. His corded thighs were so tense every muscle showed, as were his shoulders, back, and torso. His heart-shaped, well-developed calf muscles stretched his tall dress socks to near-transparency. Sweat trickled from both furry deep armpits and down his lean flanks. He was putting on a good show for the entire court, indeed. A number of men had folded their hands over the sudden pup tents in their pants. Fortunately for the distinguished, silver-haired, and extremely erect judge, the bench and his robe kept his “impropriety” from being public. An accomplice has managed to block access through the courtroom doors, and sabotage the intercom. Trapped in the chamber, everyone seemed stunned by disbelief, voyeuristic trance, or both. Suddenly the sheer briefs, stretched well past their limits, burst open.
The blushing lawman fought back tears of shame. Both quite tall bailiffs had been cuffed, bent-over and vulnerable, to the relatively low rail. Lombardo clenched his ass as tightly as possible, but his hairy crack remained slightly open. His tight, furry anus winked from between his buttocks, and his impressive bare uncut cock and heavy balls swung free for all to see and admire.
His partner, Officer Nolte, a classic Nordic blond with a football player’s physique, was in much the same predicament thanks to Wilson. His depantsing had uncovered a tight, worn jockstrap showcasing a solid, hefty pair of golden-furred cheeks and a very respectable pouch. A tad shorter, considerably beefier, and even hairier than Lombardo, he still had to push his ass slightly out to keep his balance, unable to bring his cheeks together completely. The courtroom air conditioning penetrated his crack and made his fuzzy butthole tighten even more than it had been. Nolte was, in fact, fuzzy all over, with a rounded, but quite strong upper body, stomach, ass, and big sturdy legs. His flexed calves looked ready to pop the elastic at the top of his dress socks. The dark gold curly hair carpeting him stuck to his sweaty skin, which was reddening all over with embarrassment. Wilson grabbed the straps around Officer Nolte’s asscheeks and yanked upward. Yet another exposed and deeply ashamed officer of the court gritted his teeth and went up on his toes. The cotton straps dug deeply into the hairy sweaty crevice between his glutes. Finally, the stitching, already weakened from years of precinct ball games, snapped loose!
Under a massive bush, Nolte’s thick cut dick and fur-covered balls flopped out; his cheeks were so full and firm that they almost bounced as the ripping straps snapped them. Lombardo was naturally dark all over, whereas his partner’s crotch, hips, and ass, shone snow white against the sun-browned rest of him. The contrast between most of his body and the more private areas made him look almost obscenely naked and vulnerable. A deep blush suffused every square inch of his exposed flesh. The thick tuft of curly fur around his asshole, so abundant is actually stuck out from the base of his crack, added to Nolte’s appearance of being “more naked than naked”. Hoots and catcalls resounded from some heartless spectators.
Matt Peters still had custody of Jack McGwire, who was now a sweaty, scarlet, and very lightly clad mess. A sudden surge of adrenaline enabled Jack to lunge forward and escape his captor’s grasp. This turned out to not be such a good idea. Matt’s arms shot forward, gripped the waistband of his ex-lawyers boxers, and pulled hard.
McGwire let out a strangled sob. He was now stripped to his socks, garters, and shoes in the middle of the courtroom! His high, creamy asscheeks shone white against a light golden tan, his pubic bush blazed red as his face, and his thick, ginger-pink dick and hairy nuts swung between his fit thighs. He’d inherited his Scottish father’s massive but handsomely tapering calves. In the privacy of his bedroom, Jack would have cut a seductive figure indeed. To a few of those present, he probably did anyway. He bent forward to cover himself but Peters grabbed his arms and wrestled them behind his back again. He even bent Jack’s shoulders back a bit so his armpits, chest, nipples, tummy, bush, and manly equipment were as fully displayed as they could possibly be! Placing his foot between McGwire’s shoes, he effectively kept Jack’s legs spread wide – no way for them to even close a bit to provide a speck of modesty!
Another 40 seconds had passed. Several visitors and jurors, as well as the prosecutor, were trying to call for assistance on their phones, but the signals were jammed. As few more made use of their smartphones to discreetly snap photos and videos of the action - and not for forensic evidence!
The judge, even as his briefs and trousers became sticky on the inside from arousal, had kept pushing the intercom button on the surface of the bench. The convicts could tell he’d finally made contact with courthouse personnel. They had at most 30 seconds before security accessed the courtroom and hauled them away, and they decided to make the most of it. Wilson called out to his accomplices:
“OK guys, this is it…GO!”
In less than a moment McGwire found himself across Matt’s knees; Lombardo and Nolte got pushed further over, making their bare asses stick out prominently. The three crooks raised their free hands in unison, then brought them down HARD across their captives’ upturned butts.
The attorney and bailiffs yelled as one in pain and shame at the impact of broad, rough, masculine palms on their vulnerable cheeks. None bothered to hold back the tears as more smacks resounded:
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
“We’re running out of time, boys!” Creech barked. “We need to end this show with a bang! Ready…set…SPREAD ‘EM!”
In horror, Nolte, Lombardo, and McGwire felt their reddened buttocks being firmly gripped, then pulled wide apart, so much so that their hairy cracks felt stretched, and their furry manholes opened slightly. Except at the doctor’s office, where such exposure was embarrassing enough, none had shown the intimate details of his bottom so completely to anyone. Now the entire courtroom had a good long look at their most private spots, including the furry sensitive bumps of flesh between their anuses and testicles! Their sobbing had ceased with the shock of such horrible indignity. For a split instant all was quiet until Wilson bellowed:
The mortified spankees howled again. The crooks expertly aimed their hands again to deliver one last powerful wallop to their stretched-apart buttcracks and vulnerable assholes.
McGwire, Lombardo, and Nolte, their blushing faces covered with tears, and their bodies pouring sweat, were beet red from tailbones to testicles! All three closed their eyes in hope that they’d wake from this nightmare of mortification. Sorry, guys. Dreams can come true, but some are bad. Very, very bad.
Of course, security officers got into the courtroom, cuffed the convicts, and hauled them away, making sure each was flanked on both sides by heavily armed SWAT (no pun intended) cops. Though used to seeing just about anything, the policemen had to do a double take when they saw three nearly nude, handsome, dress-socked, assed-out, bare-cocked men with flaming red, bruised backsides in the now-quiet and very disordered room. The judge, jury, and spectators all looked stunned as they slowly rose and pulled themselves together. A few folks, notably His Honor himself, appeared to be more “spent” than “stunned.” Lombardo and Nolte hung their heads and averted their eyes as their fellow officers - making sure their own glances were discreet - unlocked the handcuffs. The humiliated bailiffs stood up quickly, and drew up their breeches, inadvertently giving their mates a fine show of hard red male ass. After putting on a couple of extra uniform shirts, they were escorted down to the debriefing room. Considering that both bailiffs were bare-assed and free-balling beneath their pants, as well as sweaty and sore, their destination’s stated purpose was a bit ironic.
Two more security personnel were tending to poor Jack McGwire, who’d been squatting under a table, trying to shield his nudity and somehow cope with the ordeal he’d shared with Nolte and Lombardo. One of the guards had always had a thing for redheads. In the instant between Jack allowing himself to be helped to a standing position and being covered, to his garters at least, with a blanket, he took in all the “major aspects” of McGwire’s unclothed handsomeness, and his ringless left finger. “Damn! I know it’s inappropriate,” the guard thought. “But this boy’s one studly little firecracker! I hope I see him again, and would love it if he were naked then as he is now!” But he only said, gently, “This way, Sir, we’ll get you taken care of. You’re safe now.”
Time heals all wounds - even those to a man’s pride. Jack received permission for a sabbatical from his firm, and a chunk of “hazard pay.” The case he’d just lost was known to be hopeless from the beginning. It never would have gotten this far but for a rich relative of Wilson’s paying the court costs. McGwire’s superiors should never have taken it in the first place; they could hardly blame him. During a short out-of-town vacation, he ran into Sgt. William Vance, one of the guards who’d assisted him that fateful day, and who had often remembered how, even in his distress, Jack had been the best-looking man he’d seen, especially naked, in a very long time. Both men blushed a bit recalling the circumstances of their first meeting, but gradually grew completely at ease together, and became very…close.
In an effort to give Jack some closure to that embarrassing incident, William suggested that he strip to his socks, garters, and shoes, and allow himself to be spanked - this time by a man who cared and understood, and would give him no more than he could handle. Sgt. Vance stripped to his over-the calf dress socks and shoes and Jack lay down across his big thighs. His eyes already brimming with tears, Jack braced himself for William’s first blow. “Yell if you want to, handsome,” Vance assured him. “Curse, shout, whimper…do what you have to do.”
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
This “therapy” seemed to work well. After about ten smacks, Vance spread McGwire’s cheeks, said “you’ve got a beautiful asshole, Buddy” and gave his crack and hole a final WHACK! Both men orgasmed spontaneously, pumping out semen till they were fairly stuck together.
Meanwhile, Lombardo and Nolte had become bonded by their experience, and offered each other support and camaraderie. Many times after their shifts ended, they’d go to a neighborhood bar and talk over a few beers. It was as if they’d shared a rite of passage, and somehow, despite their lingering shame, they were almost proud to have endured it side by side, their bare rumps and thighs almost touching, smelling each other’s sweat, flinching almost identically as their bottoms, cracks, and anuses were spanked and reddened. They admitted that one reason they’d pulled their britches up in such a hurry was to conceal their half-hard cocks. They had trouble explaining this to themselves, and rarely spoke of their “accidental boners,” choosing to laugh them off as reflex. Both divorced, with no obligations outside work, they spent any days off they had together in each other’s company.
During one late-night, beer-and-cigar-fueled man-to-man chat, they somehow ended up stripped to their black OTC socks and regulation black dress shoes, taking turns getting a good old-fashioned over-the-knee spanking. Afterwards, they earnestly recounted their sensations and thoughts as they stood close together, rubbing their big, firm, tender backsides. It would be a much longer time before they’d experience the same explosive shared orgasmic pleasure that Jack and William had on their first go, but eventually, of course, they did.
As for what else went on, as time passed and intimacy deepened, after each couple’s spanking sessions, especially concerning remedies for sore cheeks and stinging buttholes, a lot of the story can be summed up in the quotes below:
“Kiss it and make it better.”
“If it hurts, lick it. If it still hurts, fuck it.”
annaxmalina
snowghoul
blakekathryn
gummygunk
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
