Brandon breathed in deeply. . . the smell of used-soap baked into concrete. . .
An unexpectedly chilly breeze cut through the night and he ducked behind the stone wall of the car wash stall.
"Why am I doing this. . . why am I meeting some strange guy in the middle of the night. . . at a vacant car wash?"
The car wash was still in business - but was not open 24 hours. It was now dark, unlit, and smelled faintly of the chemicals used earlier in the day. Just then the sound of rubber-soled sneakers scrubbing concrete drove Brandon's idle thoughts aside. "Here he is. . . oh God." Half of him felt like jumping for joy - and half of him felt like hiding. "Do I really want to do this?" Before he could make up his mind - a cloaked figure stepped into the clearing at the end of the stall. No. . . not cloaked - hooded. . . wearing a hoodie. He pulled the hood off his head and Brandon could just barely make out his features in the starlight. Tan. Black hair. American - but possibly with some Mexican heritage. Mustache. . . about 25 years old. They had only spoken on the internet - so Brandon only had a name with no expectations. "Ted?" he asked - trying not to sound as scared as he suddenly felt. "Yeah. You bring the lube?" Brandon simply nodded. Ted just stared at him. "Well?" Brandon took the cue and retrieved the container from his pocket. He handed it to Ted. "Turn around and drop 'em, cowboy."
Brandon did as he was told, bracing himself against the stone wall. He could hear Ted dropping his pants and lubing his cock behind him. "Don't turn around." he said authoritively. Brandon complied - and felt the cold, stickiness of Ted's lubed fingers preparing his asshole for engagement. A few seconds later Ted grabbed him roughly by the ribs and was almost instantly inside him. "Is this what you wanted, whore? Is this what you were dreaming of when you watched me wash my car with no shirt on?" Brandon couldn't lie - this was exactly what he'd invisioned - so he merely bit his lip and moaned the affirimative. "Good little whore. Show daddy how much you want this - reach down with one hand and fuck yourself while daddy fucks you." This immediately made Brandon's semi-stiff cock become hard as a rock. He did as instructed - with pleasure. "That's right - stroke it as fast as you can - and say 'thank you Teddy'." Brandon beat his meat and mumbled "Thank you, Teddy." Angry fingers cutched his hair and sharply ?snapped his neck backwards - "LOUDER CUNT!!" Brandon yelled into the night "THANK YOU TEDDY!!" this time a whisper responded: "That's better. . ." Ted angrily pounded his ass for the next several moments - while Brandon lustfully jerked himself off. "I'm enjoying-" Ted was cut short by the angry "HEY!!" of a police officer on foot with a flashlight. "You fags can't do that!!" he yelled. Ted?stopped pounding - Brandon put his stroking hand back on ?the wall - and they both turned left to look at the patrolman. The polic officer took several steps toward them and stopped. He stared at Ted and looked down at his bubble butt. He washed his eyes over Brandon's face and down his naked front across his 6-inch rod. "What I meant to say was - you fags can't do that without me." He sat his flashlight down on it's end so that the beam pointed upwards and reflected off the concrete cieling and then began unbuckling his belt. "You - mustache - disengage." Ted, fearing what the cop might do to him, complied.
"Now move over here." As Ted walked up beside the cop, the officer dropped his own pants - giving both of them an excellant look at his fat, 7-inch man tool slowly rising over two plump low-hangers.
He put the fingers of his left hand in his mouth to get them wet - then reach down and massaged the head of his uncut cock ever-so-slightly. It immediately sprang up - to its full 8 inches. Brandon swallowed hard in nervous expectation. Just as he'd assumed he would - the cop took Ted's former spot and picked up where he'd left off - only surprisingly - he entered slowly and fucked him gently. . . the dry 8 inches slid in and out with far more ease than Ted's lubed. . . Brandon looked over and saw that he was only about 4 inches hard, and cut. . .
better than Ted's lubed, cut,?4 inches had. "Okay." the cop said in a suddenly grough voice, "Mustache - I want you to sit cross-legged with your bare ass on the concrete and play with yourself while I show you how you're supposed to make love to a man." Ted did as instructed - falling as gracefully as he could into an Indian-style seated position on the cold, damp, chemical-soaked concrete. He slowly started to masturbate his rigid, vainy cock. "Now - this is how you do it - slow and easy - makes it better. . . and you do the work for him." With that the officer reached around and began to carefully slide Brandon's foreskin back and forth across his aching shaft. "Does that feel good baby?" he asked. Brandon's voice was raspy with passion - yet clearly audible - "YES!!" The officer smiled - and the smile could be heard in his voice when he said "Good." Ted began to make a racket. "Oh God man - oh God!! I'm gonna blow!!" no sooner had the words left his lips - a giant squirt of semen splashed across the ground. His eyes rolled back in his head and he continued jacking himself through the orgasm. A loud series of moans began - but abruptly ended as Ted convulsed and spasmed unnaturally before passing out. At first Brandon thought he'd given himself a heart attack - but after a split second he realized that the officer behind him had stopped his motion - and tazered him. "Oh shit." Brandon thought to himself. "There," the officer said, dropping the spent tazzer gun to the ground "he's served his purpose. I didn't like him anyway." He leaned foreward and kissed the left side of Brandon's neck, and Brandon suddenly realized that in some odd way - the cop was saving him - not threatening him. "Finish daddy off." the cop whispered, and he pulled out very slowly and carefully. Brandon wasted no time in spinning around and dropping to his knees. He took the 8 inches down his throat like the pro that he was - massaging the large head with his tongue. In about 80 seconds he had to pull his head back a bit to keep from drowning in the spewing cream of the moaning cop. "Fuck baby, fuck. . . you're a good little cocksucker, aren't you?" Brandon swallowed hungrily and was surpised when he felt the burly man's hands under his arms lifting him up to his feet. "Your turn, sweetness." he eased to one knee, sank Brandon's member into his tonsils, and choked himself on it until three minutes later when Brandon finally gave up his gold. He counted the spurts - 5, 6, 7, - deep into the strange officer's throat. The man never spilled a drop. Afterwards, he stood and actually hugged Brandon.
"Thanks for turning a dull night patrol into a good time. Now get yourself home before our friend here wakes up.
And no more meeting guys here, alright?" he pulled up his pants and retrieved a card from his wallet while Brandon got dressed again. "Here. That's my number. Call me if you're ever. . . in trouble." he winked and vanished around the corner of the stall. Brandon heard his patrol car crank somewhere in the distance and speed off. He looked down at the card for a long moment, then put it into his own wallet. He stared down at Ted - who was unconcious but oddly-serene looking. Brandon couldn't help himself - he fiddled with Ted's limp dick a bit. Just toying with it.
He'd always secretly wanted to molest an unconscious man. After a minute or two he stood and walked to his car.
Part of him hoped Ted made it home safely. . . part of him didn't care.