Some of you readers may remember the story of "Stan the Snake," and "Slick Rick." Slick Rick was the high powered detective of color who got taken down to bottom sub status when he met Stan, and his enormous cock. He eventually retired from the police force, went into private investigating and now he and his husband Stan live in a growing gay community in the Pennsylvania country side. Before he had met Stan, rick had been the inspiration for any number of young men of color who became interested in law enforcement careers. Marcus was one of those young men. This isn't a story of some wimp who built up his body, overcame obstacles, and then became a star in the world of law enforcement. No siree. From day 1, Marcus Simms had some advantages other kids didn't have. He was naturally muscular. And smart. He also had one very unusual feature, something you almost never see: he had blue eyes, shading toward green. No one really knew how this had happened: Marcus had done genealogical work with his parents, trying to find out if there were some "outlier" in the family tree that put this recessive gene in one of his parents, just waiting to come out. They never found a source, and it really wasn't all that important to any of them.
It WAS important to the young ladies who followed him almost constantly. From the time he started school, there was barely a day when Marcus didn't get an anonymous love note, or a gift from some sweet young girl in his grade, or in a higher grade. Unlike his virtual mentor rick, however, Marcus seemed to lack attitude. He asked his father - not a bad looking man himself - for advice on how to handle the situation, and he also asked other relatives. He took all of the advice to heart. He learned to tell his "fans" gently that he was truly flattered, but he didn't have time for a relationship. Marcus had dreams of college and a scholarship, either academic, or athletic. He played baseball. And tennis. When he played tennis, there were usually small crowds of young women, watching him play: his flexing forearms, his chest pump out on a return: they watched everything.
There was also more than one man who took the opportunity to sit where they could see Marcus' ass when he bent to receive a shot from the other side. These guys would also go to baseball games, because as the third baseman, Marcus crouched a LOT.
The notes from the girls, and eventually the young women, kept on coming. Marcus read them all, but did nothing. Until the day he got a note that stood out from all the others. It was short. "A guy as pretty as you needs a cock in his mouth. I'll be at Starbuck's drinking cappuccino tomorrow, if you're interested. Don't worry. I'm good looking - not as good as you, but I'm fine. And I'll let you know who I am." Marcus didn't smile when he read that note. He felt something different: like he did when he was hungry after a workout, and his stomach began to churn. But he felt more. Yes, he was older enough to have started "choking the chicken" as he heard someone call it, but he had never allowed himself to admit that, when he did that, he thought of other men. Team mates. Sometimes one of his "fans" in the bleachers when he was playing baseball or tennis, a classmate, it was totally random. He didn't think of sex with them, but he would think of them naked, or naked with him, perhaps embracing, kissing. What should he do? He agonized about it. The guy must have been someone who knew him, because the next day was the one day of the week that Marcus didn't have practice in one of his sports. He couldn't tell himself he couldn't make it, because of that. He'd have to decide. "I'll walk by the Starbucks. He can't drag me and pull me in. I'll just look." Marcus didn't sleep much that night. He tried not to touch himself, but the temptation was too strong and he splooched all over three handkerchiefs when he woke up the next morning. He barely touched his breakfast, which concerned his mother, but she let the matter alone when he seemed off in dreamland. "He may finally have a girlfriend in mind," she thought. She smiled to herself. She was beginning to worry.
It was a little chilly that day, so Marcus wore his varsity jacket over his starched button down shirt. After classes were over, he begged off his friends who wanted to hang out, and headed toward the Starbucks. He looked, and didn't see anyone sitting at a table by himself. He checked his watch. Was he early? No, he was on time? Was he being pranked? He thought he'd wait a few minutes and, since he hadn't slept well, decided a coffee would be a good idea. As he got to the front of the line, a tall young man, with black curls and the beginning of a goatee, smiled. "I didn't think you'd show up Marcus. But nothing ventured, nothing gained." Marcus gulped. "Then... it was you?" He saw the young man was wearing a name tag that said "Josh." "Me indeed. Squeamish?" Marcus was surprised the line wasn't getting longer and restive, and he answered "yes." Josh laughed. "Well, how about this: instead of you putting your mouth around my cock, how about I put mine around yours?" Marcus looked around to see if anyone could hear. "Ok. We'll trade positions." Josh laughed. "My car is in the lot out back. Ugly green one with the bad tires. I'll see you in ten minutes." As Marcus walked outside, he could hear Josh calling to a co-worker. "MEGHAN. I need a few minutes. Can ya cover?" Josh was good. REAL good. Of course, Marcus was so horny for something like this, that anything would have felt good. When it was Marcus' turn to suck, and he started, Josh laughed. "Either you're a natural top, or you're a rookie. Pardon the pun, but you SUCK at sucking." If he could've blushed, Marcus would've. "I AM a rookie. You're my first." Josh looked at him. "Well, know what? I think we have to find out if, as I suspect, you ARE a natural top. You free any night this week?" "Uh, yeah. Friday." Josh smiled. "I get off shift on Friday at 6. Come on by. I promise, I'll be gentle. Even if you won't be." He winked at Marcus, and ran his tongue around his lips. "You tasted better than I thought you would, too."
"Marcus? Are you feeling good?" His mom asked at dinner that night. "You barely touched breakfast and you're pushing around dinner like I cook as bad as your Aunt Delores does. What's going on?" He sighed. "nothing mom. Just doing a lot of thinking?" Mom smiled. "I hope you're thinking about a special someone handsome?" "Oh yeah. Someone special. For sure." Exhausted, Marcus slept that night, but he came in his sleep, twice, dreaming about Josh.
"Oh, you STUD. I was gonna give you another job to get you hard before I promoted you , but.." Josh was smiling at Marcus' raging hard on. "I don't think that's in order. I think we just got to go nice... and slow." "Doing what Josh?" Josh came close to Marcus. "You know, if I touched you anywhere, Marcus, I think you'd explode, so even though I want to, I'm not going to. But... " He reached down and took Marcus' hand. "Come with me. We're already naked. Let's get started." Josh gave Marcus a jar of lube and told him what to do. "EASY STUD. EASY. It's not fist fucking, it's... your first time. AH... much better..." Josh closed his eyes and smiled. He had spread his legs wide so Marcus could get his fingers in. "How're you feeling, young stud. GOD you've got beautiful eyes. I wish I could have your child. My hair, your eyes.... " He smiled. "Ok, try not to hold it too hard. Take your penis and put it at my ass hole. Then push. Gently. Marcus tried. When he exploded before he had gotten an inch in, Josh reached for him and held him. "You'll get better. You may even get better tonight, if you feel up to it. Think you can try again in an hour or so." Josh's hands around him were making Marcus feel excited already. "I may be good sooner than that." After an hour, they tried again. This time, Marcus got all the way in before he lost control. Josh laughed. "I think I was right. I think you're a natural top. You're gonna disappoint all the other topmen who want at your ass, but.... you can't always get what you want." He kissed Marcus on his lips. "How about you take my number? I know you're a busy man. Call me when you have time. " He paused. "I want you Marcus, and Josh ALWAYS gets his man."
It was a few weeks, but Marcus called Josh. They set up another date, and it became a weekly thing. Until it didn't. Marcus thought his heart would split in half when Josh stopped returning his calls. He went to the Starbucks and asked Meghan if Josh were around. She looked at him oddly. "You must be Marcus. Josh told me about you before he left." "HE LEFT?" "Yeah, I miss him too. Josh's father is in the army and he got assigned to a base across country. They left a couple weeks ago. He didn't tell you?" She looked at Marcus. "I guess not. Listen, Josh is a good guy, but you're gonna do fine. You'll find another guy. Trust this old broad. "
As he looked back on it, Marcus thought that maybe that first time with Marcus must have burst some bubble of "man scent" or something, because all of a sudden, it seemed that his "entourage," as his mom called it, became filled with more and more men. Then, one day, after tennis practice, one of the assistant coaches trapped him in a corner. "To get out, you gotta kiss me, Marcus." The man, a visiting coach from Denmark, was thin, blond, and blue eyed. "I like black men. I've never had one with blue eyes," he said, after he made sure the locker room was secure. Then he pulled over a massage table. "You top or bottom, Marcus?" "I've only topped." "Well, good. That's not gonna change." This time, Marcus did better. And he got better. Through the end of high school, through college. If his mother knew, she never said anything, but his dates and lovers did. The word was if you could get Marcus in the sack, there was a good time to be had. You just had to get over his shyness. Marcus hadn't made the baseball team at college, but he was a star at tennis. He even had a national ranking. Then.. the ankle injury. He went running for a shot he should have let go, and he heard the ping. "FUCK!" he yelled, which meant he was REALLY in pain. The medic, the coach, the other players came out. Marcus didn't remember anything more until he woke up and saw his mom and dad in his hospital room. "MOM. DAD. It's too far. You shouldn't have come. It's... " He began to cry. "I'M SORRY." "Sorry about what, son? For stretching yourself and going for it? " His father snorted. "Nothing to be sorry about there." They turned. There was a knock on the door. "I'm sorry. May I come in?" They saw a tall blond man with a bouquet of flowers, looking concerned. "Mr. and Mrs. Simms? How do you do? I'm Jan Sternkit. I was Marcus' coach in high school. I heard and..." Marcus had never mentioned Sternkit to them, but they saw him smile. "COACH! You should've stretched me more!" "I'd like to stretch you NOW" Jan thought, but didn't say it of course. "How are you feeling? Is it painful?" "They've got me on some serious meds, and they told me it's gonna be a long haul, but I'll be ok." He paused "But my long term prospects of professional tennis are really off the table." He laughed, even though he didn't want to. "There's a whole lot out there for you Marcus. Don't discount coaching. " Jan didn't know, but Marcus was looking at this as a blessing. He was "swamped out" by tennis and the pressure of being "the next Arthur Ashe, " which he really didn't want. No, coaching was not in the cards. What was?
After he had gotten well enough to move around on crutches, Marcus went back to school. He was a senior, and it was recruiting season. He had never thought about police academy, but there was a presentation and he was free, so he went in. There were a group of three, retired police officers, one of whom was rick. Marcus put his crutches beside him and listened. While he listened, he kept on thinking "you know, he's still hot. I bet that guy was a STUD when he was younger. " He saw the wedding ring, and he saw the lock collar on rick's neck. He didn't know what that meant, but when he googled it that night, he felt the stirring that he did when he got the note from Josh.
At the end of the presentation, he went to talk to rick. "Hey, thanks for coming officer. Really interesting." rick, who had never stopped flirting, looked him over. "Well look what we got here. A solid chunk of chocolate muscle with two sapphires. Nice to meet you..." "I'm Marcus, Sir. I'm sorry if I'm moving slow, I'm just getting over a tendon tear." "Well, that must suck, Marcus. Not in a good way either." He blinked at Marcus, who felt like his entire inner body had liquified. "So, you interested in police work." "I was curious, but after I heard you speak, I think it's fair to say I'm interested." rick smiled. "Not gonna lie to you Marcus: man of color in a white force? You gotta be at least 10% better than anyone else. You up for that?" Marcus smiled. "Have been all my life. I'm ready."
He was. Marcus signed up for the Police Academy the day after graduation and started shortly thereafter. It was a rigorous 5 months, but Marcus went at it with the drive he brought to everything. He excelled at everything, but especially marksmanship. If his target shooting came back with less than a high 90s grade, his instructor would ask what was wrong. His injury never healed completely, but with the exception of the mile run, Marcus was able to make high grades all around. When it came time for the mile run test, he bit his lip and said "It's like the first time, it's like the first time," and he took off. He thought about Josh, he thought about Jan, his parents... and he thought about rick. He didn't want to let that man down. He passed. There was a celebration that night with his folks, and one the night after with his fellow graduates. "HEY. How about visiting Sadie's?" One of the guys shouted out. "Sadie's" was the local brothel. The girls were pretty, the prices were right, but Marcus didn't want to have to deal with "faking." "Hey, I think I'm gonna have to pass guys. The old tendon is acting up . I guess I didn't recover from the run." When they left, he walked around town, and found himself in a gay section of the city. "Hey blue eyes. You Frank Sinatra?" one guy called to him. Marcus stopped and smiled. The guy looked like a younger version of his coach. "How's it going? I'm not Frank, I'm Marcus. " "You're not Frank? You want one? A frank that is?" Blondie smiled and moved his thumbs down to his crotch. Marcus realized he had never taken a cock in his mouth since that one try with Josh. "Uh, sure. I may not be very good at it, but.." "If you disappoint me... You'll know it?" The guy sneered. He pulled a pair of cuffs out of his pocket. "You game?" "Uh, sure. Marcus had his own handcuffs now, and he had tried them on a few times. He had never worn them with another man, and he didn't know that blondie (he never got his name), meant to cuff him behind his back. "NOW SUCK HANDSOME" The cock was right in front of him, and Marcus did. He thought of all the good blow jobs he had gotten, and tried to do better. He must have. His "date" screamed as he came down Marcus' throat. "FUCK. I shouldn't uncuff you. I oughtta take you home with me and make you do me every day," he said in the little cul de sac of an alley where they were having sex. "Please don't uncuff me. Sir, " Marcus thought, but didn't say. Blondie did uncuff him, and patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe we'll see each other again, stud. By the way, not Frankie blue eyes. You may be the most beautiful man I've ever seen."
Marcus was afraid to go back to that section of town: he was afraid that he might get "marked" as a cop and lose his career. So he kept his head low, did his patrols, and began to rise in the ranks. He was getting close to the time he'd take the detective's exam, when his commander called him in. Marcus stood at attention. Something about having his hands behind his back felt "right."
"At ease Marcus. At ease." Sarge looked up from his paperwork. "Marcus, you've got a good future here, and I know you're gonna pass the detective's exam." "Thank you for your faith Sir. I hope I prove you right." The Sargeant smiled. "I was hoping I could talk you out of taking it right away because, well, there's no better way to put this. We have an investigation that needs, well, a man of color, and... we were hoping." Marcus knew that passing the detective's exam required more than being a good cop. He didn't have much service other than his beat work to rely on it, so he asked. "Tell me about the assignment Sir." The Sargeant talked about how a new cult seemed to have moved into the precinct. So far, they couldn't pin anything illegal on the cult, but he wondered: the Sargeant didn't have a good feeling. "We know that part of their ritual involves animal sacrifice, and we HAVE found chickens, and one goat carcass, but nothing that we could pin on them. " He looked up. "I wonder if you could show some interest, maybe get involved with them, and get back to us."
A week later, Marcus was going through the door of the "Temple of Ayesha." There was a young man sitting at a desk, reading what looked like a religious tract. Marcus looked around. There were posters, and pictures on the walls. Most of them showed a tall woman with striking cheekbones, braided hair, and ...eyes like his. One picture in particular drew him in. The woman was standing, and she had two men on leashes , one at each side. Each man had an incredible physique, and the same blue eyes.
"Welcome inquirer. I see you find our goddess attractive." "Oh. I'm sorry. Yes, I do, and I forgot my manners. I'm Israel Arun." "Member Alamini here." He shook marcus/Israel's had. "When we become members of the Temple, we give up our last names. If Ayesha is known by only one name, what right have we to two?" "I see." Marcus answered. "I have a lot to learn about your faith." Berun smiled. "Indeed you do Israel. For it is NOT a faith: it is a way of life. " He paused. "Let me see if Master Absko is available. He may be able to answer some preliminary questions for you." "Master Absko. Power and strength." Alamini looked at him. "Then you know Swahili?" "Only the smallest bit. They gave us some classes when I was in grammar school, and I thought it was a beautiful language. "Indeed it is," Alamini said. "Perhaps you can come to a service and hear the chants. They are..." He paused and smiled "spellbinding." "Indeed they are. How do you do? I am Master Absko." A large man with a shaved head, wearing a western suit, came out of the back. "Please excuse my conforming clothes, inquirer Marcus. When dealing with officials of this city." He sighed. "Traditional garb is frowned upon." Marcus could not tell anything about Alamini, because he WAS in traditional clothes, but Absko seemed to have a body that exuded power and strength. He kept his stare on Marcus for a long time: Marcus felt as if he were being undressed, and he liked it. And it was in that room that he realized he had never had sex with a man of color in his life. Something told him... that was going to change. " "I am sure you have questions Marcus. Unfortunately, today would not be the best day to address them. We have a service on Thursday evening. it starts at six, and can run until 8:30. We DO lock the doors because to violate Ayesha's holiness before there has been a chance for her blessing to be complete, is sacrilegious. You are more than welcome to join us, and I will answer any questions you may have afterward. If that does not work, perhaps another time can be arranged. " "No, Master Absko. I would like to attend the service, but... I'm afraid I do not think I have suitable attire. A deep laugh escaped from Absko. "If we imposed a dress code, we would have to close our doors, inquirer Marcus; however, I am sure the goddess heard your question and was pleased. All we ask our members to do, is to dress as best as they can: to consider that they are in the presence of a Queen: THE Queen of the universe. " He smiled. "I believe that you will have no problems with that." "None Sir." When Marcus closed his eyes, he had a quick vision of Absko stripping his Western clothing from him. "Thursday at six?" "So it will be inquirer. I appreciate your visit. Kwaheri. Did you learn that one in school, Marcus?" Marcus smiled, and felt like a third grader with an extra credit question. "It means goodbye." "Indeed it does. We look forward to your return."
After Marcus had left, Alamini turned to Absko. "Surely you did not miss his eyes." Absko smiled. "I certainly did not. The Goddess has said: the chosen sacrifice would appear on his own accord. There would be no need for a hunt. And she has told us the truth again." He smiled at Alamini. "We must ready ourselves. When given a choice, most men will choose what their heart desires." He smiled even more broadly. "Israel - and that is not his true name - desires me. And the feeling is mutual."