Melbourne, 1978, a hot, sweaty summer.

Probationary Constable Dave Smith stood in the men's change rooms of the Melbourne Metro Police station, sweating in his freshly-ironed uniform. He checked his shave in the mirror- not a trace of blonde stubble over his strong jaw. Adrenaline and excitement coursed through him.

Smith's self-inspection was interrupted by a greeting from behind him. Turning, he saw the smiling face of Detective Mick Jones. Smith had met Jones the day before, but the detective was now completely naked. Water from the shower clung to Jones' taught, lithe frame, forming little droplets in his brown moustache and sideburns.

It was impossible not to notice that Jones had an extremely long, large dick. The foreskin was stretched taught across the cockhead, and droplets of water were also building and dripping from the lengthy meat. Jones didn't seem to care.

The two men shook hands in greeting, Smith awkwardly, Jones without a hint of concern about his naked body. Smith thought he saw the slightest swelling in Jones' long schlong, but he wasn't willing to risk a direct stare to another man's package to confirm.

Their handshake was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Sergeant Biffo into the locker room.

Sergeant Jake "Biffo" Barnes was a wall of a man. Sweating and sweltering in the change room, Biffo looked like he'd be more at home on a footy field. His massive arms straining against his rolled-up shirt sleeves, Biffo held up a photo for Jones and Smith to see.

"This is Michael Bird."

The picture was a candid photo of a sharply dressed man, confidently striding down a busy Melbourne street. His appearance and attitude screamed "organised crime."

"We're gonna pay him a visit today, give you a chance to learn the ropes Smith. Jones, you're with us, roll up your dick and meet us out front." Biffo rumbled.

Jones grinned.

"Coming Sarge!"

Soon, the three police officers were cautiously entering a deserted garage, allegedly a front for Bird's real business.

As soon as they entered, the door swung shut behind them. There stood Bird, gun in hand. The officers could only comply to his demands. They handed their guns over, then Bird, grinning, gave a one-word instruction.

"Strip."

Once again, Smith stood next to the completely naked Detective Jones, although now Smith was just as exposed. The constable's cheeks flushed red as he felt his dick involuntarily hardening. His one saving grace was that Jones and the Sergeant seemed to be just as erect. Bird kept his gun trained on them and gave another order.

"Wank each other off. You pigs obviously want to."

The three coppers didn't move. Bird cocked his gun.

Smith felt Jones' tentative, tobacco-stained fingers encircling his shaft. He followed suit, and began to rhythmically pump Biffo's thick, hard pole. Adrenaline flooded Smith's body.

And with that, a switch was flipped.

Soon, Smith was ramming his seven-inch hard-on into Biffo's eager wet mouth, as Biffo fondled his own hairy prick and jammed one meaty finger up Smith's slickened hole. Next to them, Jones was on his hands and knees, his masculine grunts and whimpers echoing through the garage, his giant schlong rhythmically swaying as Bird grasped his hips and fucked him hard from behind. Droplets of Jones' pre-cum were splattering everywhere.

Biffo's thick finger found something deep inside Smith and the probationary constable gasped, his load filling the Sergeant's desperate mouth.

Jones cried out in shock and pleasure as his seed spurted from his untouched knob. The two policemen's orgasms spurred Bird on, and he began to piston in and out of the detective's stretched anus. Bird shuddered, flooding Jones' backside with hot cum.

In the moment of post-orgasmic distraction, the panting Bird forgot his gun, resting on a nearby crate. Smith saw his chance...

Later, Probationary Constable Smith and Detective Jones sat in the pub, staring at their half-drunk beers. Eventually Smith broke the silence.

"... was that normal?" he asked hesitantly.

Jones took a big gulp of beer before answering.

"Not really. I mean, some days the job fucks you, but not like that." he said.

"What happens to us now? I mean, we're all getting fired right?"

"Nobody's getting fired." came a voice from behind them. The two coppers turned around to see Biffo, back in his stretched sweat-stained shirt and pants.

"Bird's not sharing... certain details of his arrest, except that young Smith here-" Biffo clapped Smith on the shoulder "-got the drop on him."

Smith and Jones breathed a sigh of relief.

"So we're in the clear then?" said Jones.

"Well not quite," Biffo replied, adjusting his crotch.

"I never got to blow my load. Meet me in the alley in five minutes, you two."

Smith and Jones paused, looked at each other, and grinned.

"Coming Sarge!"