The usual disclaimers apply: if you are under age or live somewhere with laws that prohibit you from reading material of an explicit sexual nature do not continue. The same goes for anyone who is offended by descriptions of sex between two men. Please go.
This piece may not be reproduced without prior consent.
Saturday Night Stakeout is based, very loosely, on actual events, as are most of my stories. Names and specifics have been changed for obvious reasons. Please don't ask for the real ones.
Constructive comments may be directed to MICHAELM6@attbi.com. Flames will be worked, unflatteringly, into the plot line of a story involving sheep, a donkey and a couple of sex starved eunuchs or ignored.
SATURDAY NIGHT STAKEOUT By Michael Moran
Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that I'm a pretty nice guy who's slow to anger. Of course nice is a relative term. If what they say about poison is true, then one man's nice can be another man's insufferable. Most would agree that I fall somewhere in the middle.
I'm no saint but I've been known to have the patience of one: especially when it comes to one of my more eccentric friends. Rob Costanza has made it his life's work to see just how far my halo can be stretched before it breaks. I'll get back to him later.
I'm a level headed, even-tempered kind of guy who, for the purposes of this story, has one significant flaw in his make-up. When my body says: "Okay. You've had your fun. Now go to sleep until I say you've had enough," it's in everyone's best interest that I do exactly that.
My story begins on the Saturday morning after a long but memorable Friday night. Some idiot with a death wish and a determination to deprive me of some much-needed rest was pounding down the front door. I buried my face in my humping pillow and tried wishing the intruder into the cornfield.
"It worked on Twilight Zone," I thought to myself. "I'm cuter than the kid, so why isn't it working for me?"
It didn't help that the pillow still carried Joe's scent. Joe was a pilot for a medium sized charter airline. He was also a fuck buddy of long standing and the only man whose scent could bring me to instant erection. I inhaled deeply and shifted my body to accommodate my growing hard-on.
"Give it a rest, jag off," I grumbled. "People are trying to whack off in here." I flipped over on my back and took matters in hand. The knocking slowed to an intermittent barrage of cannon balls.
"Of course, dumb ass," I muttered as I threw my legs over the side of the bed. "They know you're home. Your truck is in the driveway."
I pulled on the robe Joe had brought back from a flight to Hawaii and staggered to the door. If I looked as wasted as I was feeling at the moment, someone was in for an unpleasant shock. Maybe I'd really luck out and it would be one of those door-to-door salvation salesmen.
As much as I liked being with Joe, the early to bed and up at the crack of dawn shit was getting old. If I couldn't get in another couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep after seeing him off before sunrise, I'd be one evolutionary step from a zombie for the rest of the day.
Being a City Boy, I knew better than to just charge in and open the door. That was how people got robbed or sold magazine subscriptions. I peaked through the blinds and my heart sank. Nothing says trouble like a police car parked in front of your house. This was not good.
I wracked my sleep deprived brain trying to remember if I'd returned that overdue library book last week. My driving record was clean and, unless mental mayhem was an arrestable offense, I'd done nothing to garner the attention of L.A.'s Men in Blue. I cinched the terry cloth belt tightly around my waist and, with trembling hands, opened the door.
"May I help you?" I asked, shielding my eyes from the glare of the morning sun.
"Are you..." He paused to check his notebook. "Are you Michael Moran?"
"That depends on the charges and the bail," I replied half seriously.
He looked up from his notes and peered through the screen as if expecting to see a gun aimed at his head. "You haven't done anything wrong, Mister Moran."
"In that case, yes I am."
Having reached an understanding that I wasn't going to be hauled off in chains, I focused my attention on the man behind the badge. His nametag identified him as Martinez. Being a Saturday morning, it seemed as if everyone I knew in the neighborhood was out walking their dog or driving somewhere that required them to pass my house. All but one stopped to ask if everything was okay. The one who didn't called out something about it being time that they found out about me and kept going.
"You'd better come in before he returns with corroborating evidence."
He stepped aside while I opened the screen door and made a grab for Vincent, my opportunistic cat, who saw any distraction as a chance to shoot between my legs for a romp in the sun. Martinez scratched him behind the ears as I held the thwarted little bastard to my chest. Oh to be a cat.
"Pretty fast little guy, isn't he?"
"He's made it his life's work to try and get out at least once a day."
Officer Martinez was left to fend for himself while I hurriedly locked the cat away in the kitchen to contemplate his sins. When I returned to the interrogation, he'd removed his hat and was standing in the middle of the living room admiring the details.
"This is a nice house. That carved plaster cornice is great."
"It's a bitch to dust. So how can I do... I mean, what can I do for you?" Just call me the Sultan of Subtlety.
Upon first appraisal, Martinez was nothing short of spectacular with a quality that could easily push me headfirst into the realm of the terminally foolish. In a moment of madness I may even have considered wrestling him to the ground and having my way with him but dismissed the idea as being as dangerous as trying to dry hump a Bengal Tiger.
I'd never been good at estimating height, but a rough guess put him at a shade over six feet tall. With his wide shoulders, broad chest and eighteen-inch biceps he filled out his uniform shirt like it was a second skin. If that wasn't enough to nudge me over the line, I had reason to suspect that his regulation blue gabardine trousers hid a solid, nicely shaped ass. Put it all together and you had the sort of build that you see all the time in skin magazines and International Male catalogues but rarely in the flesh and never close enough to fondle.
It was his face, however, that secured his spot in my jack off fantasy hall of fame. He bore a startling resemblance to Oscar De La Hoya: one of my all time favorite stroke fantasies. He had the same dazzling smile and soulful brown eyes. His thick black hair was cut short at the sides just like Oscar's.
The one notable difference was that Martinez showed a tuft of hair over the top of his tee shirt. Oscar, to the best of my knowledge, was hairless. It was such a minor point that it might have gone unnoticed had my Oscar fantasy not been so richly detailed. That fantasy threatened to tumble down like a house of cards the instant that I noticed the rental video on the coffee table. Martinez also spotted it and had already picked it up.
He studied the cover picture of Clay Maverick wearing only the top half of a policeman's uniform and a scowl. I thought I saw a trace of a smile when he glanced up and saw me watching him but I dismissed it as wishful thinking. That sort of thing only happened in that sort of movie.
"S... Sorry I can't offer you coffee or something," I said nervously clearing my throat. "I never drink it so I don't keep it around."
"That's okay. I try to stay away from it when I'm on my way home to bed."
Proprietos, the Greek God of decency, was putting me to the test. Faced with the choice of offering him a glass of water or a hot alternative to the long drive home, I took the high road. He accepted the offer without ice.
He was peering out a south-facing window when I returned. "Nice neighborhood."
"We like it," I replied steadily. My hands were shaking badly as I placed the glass on the table, far away from the video.
"We? You don't live alone?"
"I meant as in the neighbors and I. Listen, Officer Martinez. I haven't had a lot of sleep and you still haven't answered my question."
He explained that due to increasing pressure from the residents of my neighborhood, the Police were planning a crack down on the Sunset Boulevard prostitutes. I'd heard it all before and always during an election year.
"That's great, but what does this have to do with me? I don't patronize them."
"We know they're using the parking lot up the street to service their Johns. We'd like to use your driveway to wait for them. It has a clear view of the entrance without making us too obvious. If you agree, we're obligated to... blah-blah-blah."
My sleep-deprived brain drifted aimlessly on a sea of rules and regulations regarding their legal and ethical obligations: should I give my consent. I was reluctant, and for what I viewed as being some pretty good reasons.
People who didn't have to deal with the constant noise and finding used rubbers on the front lawn every morning believed that busting whores was a waste of manpower: that the cops were needed for important matters like catching murderers and crooks. I also didn't relish being subject to some kind of retaliation from a pissed off pimp.
On the other hand, who was I to decide departmental policy? How could I pass on a chance to have this stud sitting in my driveway? The long and short of it was that all he had to do was flash that blinding smile and I'd have agreed to anything: which is exactly what I did.
"Great. If it's okay my partner and I will be here around ten." He gripped my hand in a handshake that was, for the record, all business.
A fleeting thought of his hand wrapped around my nightstick brought back the erection I thought I'd left in the bedroom.
Uh... Sure. I'll park on the street," I replied haltingly.
Thank God for oversized robes.
We were almost to the door when he stopped to retrieve something that looked painfully familiar. I didn't have to look twice to know where the strip of white terry cloth belt on the floor came from. It wasn't until much later that I thought to wonder how long it had been there.
Officer Martinez didn't bat an eye as I stood pointing to the door with one hand on the knob and the other at my side. He did, however, glance down frequently. Hell. You'd have thought he'd never seen an eight-inch fully erect dick giving directions.
"You obviously have... things to do," he said with a perfectly straight face. "I'll see you tonight."
"Yeah. Lots to do," I replied nodding stupidly as I stepped aside. He put on his hat and, with a parting glance downward, walked out into the morning sun. He climbed into his gleaming black and white cruiser and drove off, leaving me with a red face and blue balls. "That went well," I muttered.
I closed the door, shut the blinds and returned to the darkened bedroom. An old fantasy with a new twist waited with open arms. It may have been Joe that I smelled when I buried my face in the pillow but it was Martinez that I was visualizing.
Later that afternoon I was telling my friend Rob Costanza about the planned stakeout, avoiding all but the most basic details about the sexy cop. His less than enthusiastic reaction didn't come as a surprise. Rob was a gay activist with a history of negative experiences with handcuffs, bean bag guns and Billy clubs. I let him rant and rave until he ran out of steam, then calmly proclaimed my civic-minded altruistic intentions.
"BULLSHIT!" he yelled, rummaging through my refrigerator. "What about the Rampart Division? What about Rodney King? Didn't you learn anything from Rodney King?"
"Yes. Do an equipment check before picking up a whore and stay at the speed limit. He's with the Hollywood Division and it's not a social call, Rob. He'll be here with his partner!"
"So much the better. They can sit out in your driveway, talk about the kinky faggot and pig out on coffee and jelly doughnuts. Did I leave a bag of Cheese-Puffs somewhere around here?"
I pointed to the cabinet directly behind him.
"I respect your objections, Rob. Since you're so adamant about this, I won't expect you to come by and watch the fun."
"What? Are you crazy? I'll be here at ten."
Rob appeared at my front door several minutes ahead of the cops. He glanced at the empty driveway and frowned, disappointed at not seeing their car. He handed me the DVDs that he'd rented especially for the occasion and headed for the kitchen to unload what he liked to call his sack of a thousand delights.
When he came back loaded down with an assortment of stuff even I would never dream of buying, I had to laugh. "I don't know how you can eat that crap and stay in such good shape. You must have the stomach of a goat."
"Yep, and hung like a horse: or so I'm told," he added with a note of false modesty.
I had to give him that one. At 44, Rob Costanza was proof that life didn't end at 25. Although on the short side, his tightly muscled body was honed to perfection by hours at the gym and more than made up for what he lacked in height. Even though he could easily pass for late twenties, he was proudest of the fact that an "old fart" like him could still knock `em dead at the beach. With all he had seen and done, he had a boyish quality that kept him from being tossed into the deep end of the "Daddy" pool.
I watched with quiet admiration as he bent over to pick up the remote. Yeah, that was it: the boyish charm. It sure as hell wasn't those tight buns of steel or the legs made muscular and strong by years of relying on a bicycle for getting from point A to point B. He looked up and grinned as I sorted through the disks.
"So, what do you think of my selection?"
"Well, "Whore" is kind of an obvious choice, and "Crimes Of Passion" does have that scene where she fucks the cop with his night stick but isn't "Maniac Cop" just a little over the top?"
"I'm a firm believer in giving all sides their fair say," he proclaimed shaking his head. "In the light of recent events, I think that "Maniac Cop" is a fair representation. Speaking of which I think your party guests just pulled in. Do I get to go out and say Howdy?"
"I think we should just let the nice men do their job without you out in the street trying to incite civil disobedience against the Pigs."
We'd gotten about half way through Crimes of Passion when the doorbell rang. I was across the room and opening the door before Rob could reach the remote. The porch light was off, as he'd requested, but I recognized Martinez immediately.
He glanced downward as he removed his hat and came in. "I was expecting your cat to try and make another break," he explained.
"He usually stops trying at six: union rules, I think. What can I do for you?"
A warning glare limited any suggestions or comments Rob might have to offer to a single contemptuous snort. I returned my attention to the cop and saw that his eyes were darting back and forth between Rob and the television screen.
"Hey, I saw that film. It's got some good scenes in it as I recall."
"Do we get to guess which ones?" Rob asked, popping a handful of salted nuts into his mouth. His face was as blank as his voice was noncommittal.
Martinez responded to the taunt with a dismissive glance. "I was wondering if I could possibly use your bathroom," he asked, turning to me. "It's going to be a long night."
Rather than offering the use of the facilities to his partner, thus providing Rob with much more ammunition than he could possibly use in a lifetime of smart ass remarks, I nodded and escorted him to the bathroom.
I watched him through the refractive glass panel as he pulled down his zipper. Just knowing that his big, probably uncut, cock was waving around in the same air that I was breathing sent me back to the den before I could give it too much thought and maybe get myself into deep shit. In my absence, Rob had fast-forwarded to the infamous Billy club fuck.
"You're disgusting," he said putting the remote aside.
"Meaning what?" I demanded without glancing down at my deflating erection.
"You didn't get that bone in your pants by making obscene phone calls to Jerry Falwell. You were watching him weren't you?"
"What kind of pervert do you think I am?"
"I know what kind of pervert you are. I asked if you were watching."
"I'd rather gouge my eyes out than watch Jerry Falwell take a piss."
"I meant Dudley Do-Me of the Mounties, smart ass."
Busted: and by my best friend. My only option was to go on the defensive.
"Speaking of perverts, what were you doing with the remote?"
"I thought I'd give him something to think about while he's out there in the dark."
"Your thoughtfulness is inspiring," I muttered.
"Ain't that the truth? I have to admit he's really a hot fucker. Are you sure you don't want to help him out in there? Maybe you could hold it for him or show him the fine points of flushing. I can entertain myself for awhile."
"I'll bet you can," I replied flatly.
Rob snickered at the sound of the toilet. "Uh oh. There goes your Saturday night sponge bath. You should have told him not to flush."
"Do you actually kiss your father with that mouth?" I demanded.
"No, but I've slipped the Mailman the tongue on occasion."
I'd just grabbed the remote and was about to stop the film when Martinez entered the room. All I could do now was to stand by helplessly as the scene unfolded and Kathleen Turner rammed the club up the stud cop's ass. Worse yet was the fact that it looked as if I'd planned the whole thing.
The seemingly unflappable cop shook his head and smiled. "My girlfriend likes to tease me about that scene. She thinks that all hookers look like Kathleen Turner. Well, I should get outside. Just in case I don't get the chance later I want to thank you for your help."
"I'm always happy to do my civic duty."
"You guys have a good evening."
Martinez smiled warmly and placed his hand on my shoulder. I steadied myself against the door and looked into his enormous brown eyes.
"Yeah... You guys do the s... same," I stammered.
This time the cat was waiting to make a break for it but Martinez was too fast. He deftly scooped him up and our hands touched as he remanded him into my custody. It might have been my imagination, but I'd have sworn that his hands were as sweaty as mine were.
The cat purred loudly and dug his claws into my shoulder while I stood at the screen door and watched Officer Martinez disappear into the warm night. Vincent would be getting an extra ration of Meow Mix for his contribution to the evening.
I'd no sooner closed the door and gone back to the den than Rob was on his feet. He switched off the lights and adjusted the blinds.
"Civic duty my ass," he called out from the living room. "You're ready to go shopping for his and his jock straps."
I was still thinking of Martinez's sweaty hands. He wasn't that far from the truth and it seemed like a good time to change the subject.
"You and your ass can believe whatever you want. What's with the blinds?"
Rob sat down, took a swallow of his beer and put the film back on play.
"Just a little theory I've been working on. By the way, did you know that you can see right into their car from the window by the fireplace?"
"I'll take your word for it."
Things were pretty slow at first: as far as the whores were concerned. I hated to admit it, but it was starting to look like maybe Rob was right about it being a waste of time and manpower. I walked outside a few times and looked up the street toward Sunset.
The extent of the action was one scrawny hooker, dressed up as a cheerleader with nobody to root for, on the southwest corner. Cars circled the block but nobody was interested.
"The straights have better taste than I thought," I muttered as I headed back inside.
I paused at the base of the front walk weighing the pros and cons of walking over and saying hello. It was such a warm night that I'd changed into a pair of cutoffs that stopped a half an inch short of public indecency. My perverse side liked the idea of Martinez staring directly into my crotch as I stood outside his window. It even made me hard.
Decency won out over decadence, but only until I got back inside. During my brief absence Rob had found his way back to the window and had one hand down the front of his pants. The other was holding my binoculars.
"Come over here and take a look at how your tax dollars are being spent."
Reluctantly, I directed the glasses into the front seat of the car. My cock jumped to full attention as first one, then two dicks sprang into focus. Then my knees began to tremble as a hand wrapped around the one in the passenger seat and began stroking it.
"Shit!" I croaked. "They're jacking each other off."
"I'll bet they're swapping lesbian pussy stories to get each other hard. It's repulsive, vile and curiously arousing," Rob answered.
I diverted my attention away from the show long enough to see that Rob had pulled out his whopper and was gently stroking himself. "It seems to work for you," I mumbled.
The situation had progressed so far beyond the indecent exposure level that any attempt to hide it would be an exercise in hypocrisy. Since everyone else was busy airing their differences, I whipped it out and joined the party.
Not being one to let a good hard-on go to waste, Rob's hand found my erection the instant my cutoffs hit the floor. The movie was forgotten as we stood at the window jerking each other off while passing the binoculars back and forth.
"Heads up pal," Rob whispered. 'Me thinks things are about to escalate. Is your friend driving or riding shotgun?"
"What difference does it make?"
"It would have made keeping track of who's doing what down there easier. I don't mind telling you that your friend is a real pig: and I mean that in the best sense of the word."
Officer X got out of the driver's side and walked around the back of the cruiser. The passenger side door opened and a pair of legs appeared over the edge of the seat. Everything else, from his torso to his true identity, remained in the shadows.
As God is my witness I can't remember why, but it occurred to me as I watched Officer X's head being face-fucked, that participants in this sort of operation must be required to fill out some kind of report. At the very least, it would have to be an exercise in euphemisms.
10:30: Arrived early. Parked in driveway with homeowner's permission.
10:32: Discussed sports: cave diving and beaver hunting.
10:57: Conferred with Officer X over relative humpability of Jennifer Lopez and Britany Spears.
10:58: Observed Officer X waving his long arm of the law. Estimate size to be eight to nine inches: further investigation indicated.
10:59: Tragedy strikes. While massaging a cramp in Officer Y's arm, I brought Not-So-Little Boy Blue out to play. Invited Officer Y to throttle him. Note: Little Boy Blue is often bad and requires frequent spanking.
With the euphemisms for giving hand jobs and receiving head flying fast and loose, it just got weird after that. Obviously, the sight of Officer X's hat bobbing up and down was clouding my brain.
The binoculars came close to falling to the floor as I passed them back to Rob. He took a quick look, handed them back and pushed my legs apart. Before I realized what was happening, he was sitting on the floor happily chowing down on my rod.
This wasn't part of our usual relationship. Although we'd started out as fuck buddies, back in the days before condoms and electricity, we'd moved on once we discovered that we'd make better friends if we confined such activities to special occasions such as this.
I've always had a thing for men in uniforms and a cop getting or giving head in my driveway qualified as a once in a lifetime special occasion. As for Rob, outside of being depraved by nature I've never known what motivates him to do anything.
Officer Y began to thrash around, furiously stuffing his cock into his partner's face while his right foot stomped the crap out of a hapless hydrangea.
It pushed the kink factor up a notch to know that one of them was Martinez, and that he was about to shoot his load. It also brought me to critical mass in record time.
"What's going on?" Rob demanded. His words were garbled by the eight hard inches being crammed down his throat.
"I can't tell," I whispered. "The binoculars are all fogged up."
"Wipe 'em off damn it," he barked. His breathing was rapid as he pounded at his uncircumcised cock. "I'm close... Need... More... Stimulation."
"Yeah, as if you've ever needed... Oh fuck!" I croaked as I placed the glasses on the mantel and braced myself against the window frame. Pulling my dick, wet with saliva, out of his hungry mouth, I began pounding my pud. At the same time, Officer X had pulled back and was doing the same on himself and on his partner.
For a moment in time I felt like I was back at the old 8709 Baths: jerking off while watching two strangers going at it in the orgy room. A quarter-sized glob of cum flew at the window screen and clung to the mesh like a moth. Then it fell away. My balls tightened and I erupted in long thick globs across Rob's upturned face.
"Don't... Fucking... Move," Rob commanded as the steady thup-thup-thup of flesh against flesh grew steadily. "Oh yeah," he moaned. "Here it comes... Oh yeah... Gonna cum."
His throaty growl went up two octaves, then trailed off as the first shot hit my ass. The next one splattered just below the first and was running down the back of my leg when a third landed at the base of my spine and disappeared between my butt cheeks.
It was over as quickly as it had begun. My gradually softening cock slid from across the bridge of Rob's nose. Officer Y's legs disappeared back into the car and Officer X was on his feet and pulling his pants shut as he walked around behind the car. Rob scooted out from between my legs and headed for the bathroom to clean up.
I carefully closed the blinds and eased away from the window. Fun time was over. It was time for the show to begin.
Rob was still in the shower when the squad car engine roared to life and sprang from its hiding place. I watched from the front porch as they pulled into the parking lot. The display of flashing lights brought others. Cars seemed to come from out of nowhere and descended on the scene with whooping sirens.
In the ensuing chaos, a few chose to make a run for it. They tore off down Sunset in clouds of burning rubber. Then a voice that I was pretty sure belonged to Martinez was heard on the bullhorn, ordering the girls and their Johns around like they were sheep.
"Put it away and get out with your hands in plain sight."
The next day, the five, six, and eleven o'clock news on all of the local stations ran stories about the big bust in Hollywood. All were careful to not show the faces of the two officers responsible for most of the arrests. While not using my name, the cops were quoted as saying they had the help of a local resident. It was as close to notoriety as I ever wanted to get.
I thought about Martinez over the course of the next few weeks. The good looking cop with the big brown eyes gradually became one of those impossibly good-looking men you see on the street. You fantasize about them for awhile, maybe jerk off thinking about them once or twice, and then forget them.
Then, one overcast day, I was giving my truck a much needed washing when a car pulled up to the curb. The door opened and the driver emerged into the gray sunlight.
It was Martinez: still in uniform and just as sexy as I remembered. He circled around and leaned against the passenger door, arms crossed and watching intently as I finished drying the hood.
"How does it look from over there?" I asked, stepping back to admire my work.
Martinez nodded his approval. "Pretty good. How much do you charge?"
"Coming from you, that could be a dangerous question to answer," I replied with a short, nervous laugh. "How's it going?"
"It goes. Listen, I'm sorry I haven't been able to get by before now."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. Thanks for not giving out my name. The last thing I need is for a pissed off pimp to start targeting my house."
"We never do that. It's against departmental policy. I thought I told you."
I shrugged and walked around to the front of the truck. "Maybe I missed it, but you really didn't have to come by to thank me again."
"Yeah, I did. It's about what happened in your driveway."
"Oh that," I laughed. "Well, I have to admit Rob sure as shit had lots to say about it, but I figure it's your business. By the way, do you nab many bad guys like that?"
"I don't follow you."
"I don't see how you could. It must be difficult to chase someone down with your pants around your ankles?"
"Oh shit! You saw that?"
Poor Martinez. Suddenly he looked like a kid who'd just been caught jerking off behind the garage by his sister.
"Isn't that what we were talking about?"
"No! I was talking about the sprinkler head we drove over."
Martinez was obviously in an awkward position. The thought of him trying to work out a plausible explanation for why he'd been spotted with his dick out didn't help me keep a straight face.
A sadist like Rob lives for exactly the sort of awkward situation that was developing. If I hadn't thought to swear him to silence, I had no doubt that the Internet chat rooms would be awash in snide remarks and code words for a blowjob in progress.
As for me, Officer Martinez was not only the most attractive but also the friendliest cop I'd ever met. I sure as hell wasn't going to embarrass him into leaving before I could find out just how much friendlier he was willing to get.
"Come on," I said gathering up the soggy array of rags and sponges."We can talk about this in the house."
He nodded penitently and followed me inside. I left him standing in the living room while I stowed the cleaning supplies in the back porch. He was sitting on the couch playing with the cat when I returned. Vincent had a way of putting people at ease.
"I see he's tempted you with Mister String. Few mortals can resist."
Martinez looked up and smiled. "Yeah, there's something so innocent about playing with a nice critter like this."
"I was just thinking about how unreal that whole night was."
"It was pretty unreal all right."
"I guess that leads me to the next question. What were you guys thinking?"
"Well, we weren't scheduled to start until eleven and... We didn't think anyone could see us. My partner said he knocked on the neighbor's door to let them know what we were doing and there was nobody home... and one thing led to another. It was still a dumb thing to do."
"Uh huh... especially since they were home. They don't come to the door after ten o'clock."
"Shit!"
"It could have been worse. At least Alfred didn't come home late like he usually does."
"Who's Alfred' Is that your..."
"Alfred's their son and I can promise you that he wouldn't find it nearly as amusing as I did. So is that what you guys do in your down time: jack each other off?"
"Believe it or not, that was the first time that's ever happened. As a matter of fact, it was the first time I've had my hand on another guy's... uh."
"I think the word that you're, you'll excuse the expression, groping for is penis. Do you always have trouble using the "p" word?"
"I do when I'm caught with mine out like that."
"I swear not to tell another living soul. Of course, I can't make the same promise for my buddy Rob."
"He doesn't like me, does he?"
"It's cops that he doesn't like but I think you guys might have put them in a whole new light: not that he's going to run out and join the police force or anything. Well, you made your apology. Your secret is safe. Thanks for stopping by, Officer Martinez."
I offered my hand, which he ignored. Instead, he sat back on the sofa and launched into an involved explanation about how that night had been his partner's last night on the force and how he'd been harassed into quitting. A couple of references a girlfriend named Rosa made me more depressed than sympathetic, but I still listened.
My eyes were continually drawn to the bulge between his legs. It was like being shown a box of candy and having someone tell you not to touch it. Of course, none of what he said addressed the question of the hour.
"Not that you need to, but how does this lead to what happened in my driveway?"
His reply was as blunt as my question had been.
"In my line of work, a partner can be like a lover. You often spend more time together than you would with a wife. He was quitting because the force isn't as tolerant as the Police Commission would like you believe. In all the time we worked together, he never so much as made a suggestive glance at me until that night. He was just being honest about his attraction to me. Since Rosa and I hadn't been getting along, I thought what the hell!"
"So you went home and apologized to Rosa and all was forgotten and now you're living happily ever after. Thanks for the story."
"It isn't that simple. I wasn't just doing him a favor by letting him suck my d... dick. I wanted it. In fact, he only suggested that we jerk off together. We started talking about the things that turned us on and I just started playing with his dick like it was no big deal. I guess things got out of hand after that but... damn, it felt great."
"That sounds like a logical progression."
"What bothered me was the fact that when our shift was over and I went home... and I was in bed next to Rosa, all I could think about was how much I wanted to do it with you."
"ME?' I exclaimed as my heart leapt into my throat. "You don't even know me!"
"That's right."
"I mean, how did you know I wouldn't tell someone about this little heart to heart?"
"I didn't," he said quietly as a hint of uncertainty clouded his face. "I still don't."
"And?"
"My Grandfather used to say about how you could judge what kind of man somebody is by his animals. This little guy is so relaxed and cool. It's obvious he's never been abused. He's so trusting of people: like it's never occurred to him that someone would hurt him. That says a lot about you."
What his assessment was saying to me was that Grandpa and I didn't know the same people. I knew some animal lovers who wouldn't think twice about hanging someone in his position by his dick to twist in the wind.
Suddenly we were at opposite sides of an ever-expanding ocean of insecurities. On one shore stood Martinez who, having just made the sort of admission that few straight men would dream of making to a stranger, was fearful of the consequences. On the opposite shore was the guy who'd done nothing to warrant the anxieties being heaped upon him. It was Martinez who finally broke through the uncomfortable silence that'd settled over the room like a woolen blanket.
"I was just thinking about a poem I used to read in school."
"Which one?" I asked nervously.
"I forget the title, but it's by Robert Frost. It's the one about taking one road and not the other."
"You're thinking of The Road Not Taken."
"That's the one."
"What about it?"
"It's about taking one road and not the other, right?"
"I guess so."
"And how once you've decided, you might never get a chance to find out what might have happened if you'd taken the other one."
I had to smile at the absurdity of the situation. Who else but me would find himself talking about poetry when the situation clearly warranted groping hands and raging libidos?
"That's one interpretation," I replied, not giving it too much thought.
Martinez gently placed the cat on the floor and reached for his hat. Damn! "Well... Anyway... I'm sorry about the sprinkler head' and the show in the driveway."
I was about to lose him but without an appropriate move, there was no way to stop him. What else could I do but extend my hand in friendship?
"Good luck officer," I said quietly.
This time he took it and didn't let go. The ball was in my court with the bases loaded and the clock was running out at the end of the fourth quarter. Our eyes met at arm's length and I began to draw him toward me.
HE STEPS UP TO THE LINE.
Martinez didn't resist as I slipped my free hand around his waist, gently guiding his hand to within fondling distance of my crotch. It was unlikely that either of us was getting any mixed signals but, just to be certain, I brought mine up firmly against his swollen crotch.
HE AIMS!
There was no misreading that one. Before I could take a much-needed breath, his hand was at my fly, awkwardly fumbling at the buttons. Our lips met in a kiss that could melt the varnish from the door.
HE MAKES THE BASKET!
As our tongues battled for control, I pulled down his zipper and extracted what was a seemingly endless lemgth of cop cock. "Holy crap," I thought to myself as I broke the kiss and looked down in amazement. Ten inches of the most beautiful, well-formed uncut cocks I'd ever seen dropped heavily into my hand. Martinez groaned softly as I pressed it against mine.
HE SCORES! IT'S A TOUCHDOWN! IT'S A LINE DRIVE INTO CENTER FIELD! IT'S A HOME RUN AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!
Okay. If my sports metaphors were a bit confused, I was absolutely clear on one point. There was no way in hell Martinez was going to walk out that door un-sucked.
"I swear, Martinez," I panted as I ground my crotch against his. "If you're going to tell me that you have to be back to work in five minutes, I'm gonna haul you up on charges of police brutality."
He caught his breath as my tongue swirled around to the back of his ear and started down the side of his neck. "I don't have... to report again... until Monday," he managed to answer between gasps for air.
"Good."
"There's something I think I should tell you. I've never' I've never reciprocated before. I mean other than what you guys saw. I'm not sure I know what I should do next."
"In that case, consider school to be in session for the weekend," I growled and led him toward the bedroom.
It may not have been his first lesson, but this would be the one he'd remember for a long time.
Officer Martinez, clearly anxious to get naked and down to business, began the long process of removing his uniform the instant we stepped into the bedroom. I gently moved his hand from his collar to my crotch and held it there while I ran my tongue along his upper lip.
"Keep it on the first time," I whispered as I re-buttoned his shirt.
"But it's my only..."
"Don't argue with the teacher. It's why they invented dry cleaners. Indulge me. I've got this fantasy about sucking off a real cop in a real uniform."
I looked deeply into his eyes and firmly pushed him back onto the bed. I'd have to move quickly and decisively if I was going to convince him that getting blown in his uniform by someone other than his partner wasn't the same as pissing on the flag. I took a deep breath and took his cock in my mouth before he could reject my request.
Martinez groaned loudly as I pulled the foreskin back and swirled my tongue around the mushroom shaped head. Like a whiff of poppers in a steamy sex drenched bathhouse on a Saturday night, the smell of crotch sweat clouded my brain.
I'd been around enough to know that guys who were as well endowed as Martinez were rare. It had been awhile since my last disastrous attempt to go down on something that large. I had no desire to repeat such a humiliating experience with someone I wanted to impress as much as I wanted to impress him. The trick, as I was to discover after the fact, was to relax and breathe through the nose on the way back up.
Knowing that what happened next could be a pivotal moment in whatever the future held for us, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Martinez offered no resistance as I held him firmly to the bed, working my way downward until his pubic hairs were, literally, in my nostrils.
Once I was sure that everything was going to stay where it belonged, I relaxed my grip and allowed him to plunge his cock the rest of the way down my throat. Life was good with his cock nudging the back of my throat.
"Damn!" he exclaimed. "Rosa would never..."
A gentle squeeze on his hairy balls was all it took to convey the message that there'd be no chick talk in MY bedroom. As far as I was concerned, I couldn't have been less interested in what Rosa would or would not do. She'd be packing her bags by the time I was through with him.
"Oh my God! You're turning me inside out!" His fingers dug painfully into my shoulders as he thrashed wildly.
That was the kind of talk I wanted to hear. Sensing that he might be reaching the point of no return, I gave the head a final swipe of the tongue and released my hold on his cock. It slipped free of my mouth and snapped back against his black leather belt. A sense of great personal satisfaction and accomplishment overwhelmed me as the glistening line of pre cum oozed down his belt into his handcuff holster. I'm nothing if not visual.
It was time to give his scrotum the attention it so richly deserved. I forced my tongue through his fly, lapping and probing until the zipper began to grate on my lower lip. The moans of pleasure that began with the first flick of my tongue grew more intense until it became obvious that he'd about reached the limits of his endurance.
Martinez didn't say a word as I gently moved his hand to his side and began stroking his dick. His breathing came in short bursts that sounded like a diver gasping for air as I slid my hand up and down it's considerable length.
From that point, all it took was for me to draw the gleaming cock head back into my mouth and exert a mild suction for a few rapturous seconds before releasing it. He took a deep breath and held it, shutting his eyes tightly. Then he exhaled and shot his first load in a high graceful arc. It landed on a photo enlargement of the Rialto Theatre, a good six feet away, between Bing Crosby and Betty Hutton. A second shot scored a direct hit on the asbestos curtain of the Carthay Circle Theatre, just below the Rialto. A third disappeared into the shadows, but I was too overcome with lust to care.
Once the trembling stopped, and he began to relax, he looked up at the mess he'd made on the wall and grinned sheepishly. "Pretty intense, huh?"
"I was impressed."
"Sorry about the pictures."
'Oh that's okay," I said not bothering to look closer at the damage.
"What are they?"
"Inspiration, I'm a writer."
He had a strange look in his eyes: as if he was trying to decide whether or not I was crazy. Then, like a rising sun, a smile lit up his face and he pulled me down to the bed. Stretched out with his face nuzzled against my neck and my dick cradled in his hand, I couldn't imagine things being any better. Okay, maybe I could have done without his shield and sharp shooter pin digging into my chest, but it wasn't as if he was going to be wearing it for much longer anyway.
It was at his insistence that the uniform came off for the next round. "It's my last clean one and cum stains aren't exactly part of the uniform. Next time I'll bring three."
"You're pretty damned sure of yourself, aen't you?"
Martinez looked as if someone had just told him that his dog died.
"There isn't going to... But I... I thought..."
"Relax Martinez. I just said that you were pretty sure of yourself."
He shook his head as he slowly removed his shirt and hung it on the closet doorknob.
"Did anyone ever tell you can be an asshole?"
"With frequency and with greater conviction. Now shut the fuck up and strip," I replied.
I'd already peeled off my shorts, and was stroking my dripping cock in anticipation of what I hoped was to come. I wondered if he could hear the excitement in my voice.
There was a wonderful moment that happened when our bodies completely came together for the first time. What made it wonderful was a combination of so many things. It was the very first slap of bare skin against bare skin and the impossibly intense feeling that raced through my soul as my cock rubbed against his. It was the way he smelled of sweat after wearing a Kevlar vest all day. It was the look in his eyes and the little gasp of surprise he made when I accidentally pushed "that" button and his whole body convulsed.
Though I try not to overanalyze it, those are just highlights of the things that come to mind when I look back on that day. The point is that the moment arrived when the last of his clothes came off and he stretched out naked, hard and hot on top of me. The world and all of its problems ceased to exist.
"I want to do everything with you," he said breathlessly.
"Don't worry. You will."
"This is new to me. I don't want to screw up and..."
"Shut up, Martinez," I said slapping his firm, hairy butt. "I'll let you know when you do something wrong. In the meantime, you're still on the table of contents."
He sighed deeply as I pressed my hand to the red spot I had just made. "Anything you say sir. Yes Sir," he answered just before he started for my dripping rod.
For a beginner he was pretty damned good. Hell, he was better on the first try than some are after a lifetime of cock sucking. That's not to say that there wasn't room for improvement, but his excitement and desire to please more than compensated for one or two minor scrapes that didn't even break the skin.
"Relax, Martinez," I laughed. "We've got the whole weekend."
He stopped, his mouth still encircling the head of my raging hard on, and looked up into my eyes. I'd never seen anything as sexy and, in a way, innocent at the same time as the sight of that face at that moment. I pulled out and rolled him on to his back.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked quietly.
I pulled him up to the pillow and rested my head on his chest, gently stroking the sensitive underside of his swollen dick as I listened to the steady pounding of his heart.
"Not a thing," I replied. "I was just wondering what I had done to deserve a guy like you walking in my life."
"I want to be good at this."
"Right now the only thing you could do wrong would be to get dressed and walk out the door. Take it easy." I nibbled gently at his left nipple.
He resumed where he'd left off, but at a much slower pace. Gradually he began to get the hang of it and his strokes were slow and even. Then he paused, grasped my balls firmly and with one smooth motion, took it all the way to the base. He glanced up again with a look of triumph and buried his nose in my pubes. He'd passed Blowjob 101 with flying colors.
Under most conditions, I'm what would be called an active participant. It takes a lot to surprise me to the point of inaction, but I was so taken by the spectacle of his head bobbing up and down that I found myself laying back and enjoying the ride. I grabbed the headboard and reveled in the part of the fantasy to which I'd never given that much thought.
"That's MY dick in HIS mouth," I thought to myself. "This hot son of a bitch is sucking on MY cock, trying to make ME feel good and I don't have to reciprocate."
I became so immersed in the experience that I barely noticed the tingling in my balls: a sure sign that I was about to blow. I tried to push him away but he was having none of it. He shook his head without missing a stroke and actually tightened his lips around the base as wave after wave of cum shot into his eager throat.
I won't bore you with what I said because you've probably heard read it a thousand times before. I will say that when I looked down and saw the trickle of white cum escaping from his mouth while he zealously swallowed the rest, promises were uttered that even I would have trouble making good on. I sure as hell intended to try, though.
Once he'd finally broken the suction, and had started to slide back up to the pillow, I reluctantly got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Sex makes me pee: go figure.I returned to discover that Vincent had found his way in and was contentedly kneading his paws on Martinez's chest. If I knew my cat, he had every intention of spending the rest of the day there. Fat chance, hairball.
"So how did you come to give him a name like Vincent?" Martinez asked, ignoring the claws and stroking his back.
"He's named after a friend of mine who owns the 7702. He's got the mouth of death, but he's really a pussycat."
A shadow passed over his face as he looked down at the purring cat. "That's a hustler bar."
"Not now. Vince kicked all of them out. Did you think I was buying or selling?"
"Neither. I was just worried about you. Those places can be..."
"Dangerous? I know that. You guys should be a little more supportive of him and pay attention to what he's doing. He's busting his butt and you guys give him shit in return."
I was getting worked up and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Some things put me on the defensive. Being a good cop, he knew exactly what to do. I was still fuming as he put the cat outside the door, closing it behind him.
His hard-on returned before he reached the bed. He stretched out and grabbed my arm, pulling me down into a deep, soulful kiss that went a long way toward dispelling my anger.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "These things don't always filter down the ranks."
Rather than spoil what was looking to be a great weekend, I decided to overlook his unintentional slight of my friend and returned the kiss. If this worked out as I was hoping it would, there'd be time enough later to educate him.
He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were a reminder that he'd just gotten off work. I maneuvered him around until my cock was pressed tightly along the crack of his butt and gently closed my hand around his softening dick. A feeling of utter contentment settled over me as I dozed off with my face pressed against his strong back.
It was after seven when something moist and warm enveloping my dick awakened me. Curious as to how adventurous he would be without my guidance, I played possum and let him do some exploring on his own. With the first flush of excitement behind him, it was obvious he had taken to cock sucking like the proverbial fish to water.
Martinez's tongue lapped gently at the underside, moving around the head with each upward movement as his mouth slid up and down my fully erect shaft. Gradually, as his confidence grew, he moved downward and sucked my balls into his mouth.
It had been a long time since anyone had been content to do all the work. Since it WAS my day off, I was happy to oblige until he rolled me over on my stomach and parted my legs. Then I started to worry.
I knew I wasn't ready for the monster meat just yet, and began making "waking up" sounds. To my surprise rather than even trying, he pushed his head between my legs and buried his tongue deep into my ass. If they ever give out an award for "Best performance by a man pretending to be asleep while his ass is being eaten by an Oscar De La Hoya look alike cop" I'm a front runner.
I'd reached the limits of my acting ability in record time and raised my ass to give him better access. He laughed and threw himself on my back. "I was wondering how long you could keep up that sleeping act."
"You knew I was awake?" I asked disappointedly.
"I may be new at this, but I've been a cop for a few years now. I can tell when a guy's playing possum."
As if to make sure that his point had been made, Martinez he ran his tongue down my spine and buried his face in my ass crack. He shoved his tongue as far up my hole as he could reach.
"Screw... you... Martinez," I replied between gasps of pure unadulterated pleasure.
"That's what I was hoping you'd say."
Call me crazy, but the idea of taking on a virgin ass is not real high on my list of favorite things to do. No matter whose idea it was the fuck-er could never be sure how the fuck-ee is going to react to the reality of having his bunghole boned.
There's also a certain responsibility that goes along with being first man on the mountain. Too many friendships had fallen apart over a disappointing or badly handled fuck. I flipped over on my back and pulled him tightly against my chest, my fingers skimming along the surface of his hairy, muscular ass as he chewed my ear lobe.
"I don't know," I sighed. "Maybe we're making too much progress here. Maybe we should just concentrate on the basics before getting into the advanced stuff."
"Stop talking like a fucking school teacher and put this thing in me." he growled as he reached between our sweaty bodies and squeezed my cock. "I WANT you to."
"Getting it up the ass isn't always the most pleasurable experience. It can hurt like hell." I couldn't believe what I was hearing myself say.
"See that?" he asked pointing to a puckered white spot just to the right of his navel. "It's a little souvenir of the Gulf War. They had to take it out without anesthetic because some fuck head Medic forgot to bring some along on patrol."
"Ouch."
It was a lame reply for which I had no defense.
Martinez shifted his leg and pointed out another scar on his thigh.
"This is a reminder to never trust a crack head when he says he's unarmed. They put me under for that, but it hurt like a son of a bitch until they did. I can handle anything you can serve up in the pain department."
"I never could say no to a war hero," I sighed and reached under the bed for the lubricant and rubbers. What else could I do?
The look of feverish expectation in his eyes as I positioned myself between his legs was as much of a turn on as I could possibly have handled. How could the sight of this incredible stud stroking his monster dick not be? I squirted a generous glob of lubricant on my finger and gently inserted it into his pink butt hole. Then I waited for him to relax.
The more he relaxed, the more confident I became and with confidence came a second finger. I twisted my hand around until I could feel the rise of his prostate, and exerted a gentle downward pressure. Martinez caught his breath as I milked out a drop of pre cum.
"I thought I was going to cum for a second. Damn, that was amazing. I can't wait to feel what your dick can do."
He didn't have to wait long. I slathered a copious gob of the cool lubricant into his hole and bent forward to plant another long, passionate kiss on his dry lips.
"Just relax and breathe normally. Tell me if it hurts too much and I'll stop."
Martinez just nodded: his face an unreadable mask as he watched me unroll the condom on to my cock. I brought the head to his puckered hole, then stopped to position myself and to move his legs. God, he looked so damned hot that I wanted to preserve that moment in my memory banks. There was a slight intake of air as the head touched the tender flesh, and he began to breathe deeply. The long trip to nirvana was about to begin.
"You okay Martinez?" I asked after I'd gone about an inch.
"It's Roberto," he whispered.
"What was that?"
"Roberto. My name's Roberto."
I nodded, kissed his knee and pushed a little deeper. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and I paused to study his face. It seemed that every emotion he was capable of passed before my eyes.
"You ready?" I asked after a long minute.
"Yeah... Okay buddy. Go for the burn."
He ran his hand along my arms, mumbling in Spanish as the warm, moist walls of his rectum closed tightly around my advancing cock. "Me encanta tu polla. Que' polla mas grande tienes."
He kept repeating it over and over again until it started to make me a little crazy trying to figure out what he was saying. "I'm sorry. The only thing I understand is "Me cago en tu estampa!"
"I said that I love your cock," he laughed. "You have such a big cock. As for kissing your ass... I've already done that."
"Damn. I'm being complimented and I don't even know it."
"Don't worry about that. You'll know."
I pushed forward again, always aware of his first time status, until my balls touched his ass. I stopped again and ran my hands along his smooth thighs. The handsome cop looked up at me questioningly.
"Why did you stop?"
"I thought you might want to savor the moment."
The look of wonder in his eyes as the realization of what I had just said is one that I'll never forget. He strained to look down to where my cock was buried to the hilt and laughed softly.
"Well I'll be damned. You did it."
It was a long and friendly fuck: the kind that happens when two guys just happen to connect at the right time and everything goes as you always hope it will. I began slowly with short strokes and whispered words of encouragement until we fell into a natural rhythm. Then, as the strokes became longer, and he began to really participate, the dialogue veered into what sounded like an international co-production of an X rated video.
"Oh God," he groaned as I pushed harder and deeper. "You feel so good in there. Mas fuerte! Ram that fucking cock up my virgin ass. Follame, Miguel. Dime porquerias."
I was afraid he would ask me to do that. Roughly translated it meant that he wanted me to talk dirty to him and that was something I'd never been good at. Ask me to growl and grunt like an animal, and I'm your man. Ask for a stream of conscious routine like the drugged out chatterboxes deliver in the videos, and you might as well ask me to recite the Gettysburg Address in Latin.
With that in mind, imagine my surprise as the words began to flow. Maybe it was the sight of him lying there in the dim light, eyes closed and playing with his nipples, that did it. Maybe it was looking down and seeing my hard cock, shiny and wet, sliding in and out of his upturned ass. As you might have guessed by now, I have a tendency to over analyze things.
"You like my big dick up your ass, don't you?"
"Oh yeah. I fucking love it, man... feeling your big dick filling my hole."
"You want more of it? You want more of my big cock up your ass?"
"Oh yeah' I want it all. Fuck my ass... ram your cock up there. Fill me with your big fuck pole. Let me have it all."
"You want it harder? You want me to pound that pretty virgin butt hole of yours? You like getting fucked hard with my big dick, cop man?"
"Yeah' feels soooo good having my guy reaming my ass."
One thing I've learned as good top is not to keep him in the same position for too long. I maneuvered my legs around without missing a beat and pulled him into a sitting position. As my cock plunged deeper, he let out a cry of pure astonishment and began bouncing up and down on it as if he were born in the saddle. The sight of him stroking his meat and the look of ecstasy on his face was enough to bring me to the edge, but I had one more surprise for him.
I waited for him to start playing with his nipples again and, on one of the upward strokes, shifted my body downward. When he came down, my cock head pushed hard against his prostate. This brought an immediate and dramatic reaction. His cock, now on the verge of erupting, jerked and slapped loudly against his belly as if it had a mind of it's own.
When he made no move toward grabbing it, and dropped his head back with a long groan of pleasure, I knew he was close. His downward slides were met with an upward thrust that drove me harder into his already overworked gland. He shook violently as his balls constricted and, at last, erupted with wave after wave of cum.
"Oh FUUUUUUCK!" he yelled. Cum and sweat flew everywhere. The first glob scored a direct hit the headboard. The second landed on his chin and ran slowly down his throat to his chest. The third landed somewhere around my computer and the forth hit the doorknob. Hell, with the way my own nuts were churning, I'd be cleaning up cum for a week but I wasn't complaining.
My dick slipped from his ass with a soft "plup" sound as he got to his knees.
"Now it's your turn big guy," he whispered as he peeled away the condom and wrapped his fist around my pud. I reached behind the pillow and grabbed the slats of the headboard.
"Yeah, Jack me off hard, Roberto," I growled as his strokes became harder and faster. "Make me cum, you hot fucking stud."
An old fantasy was updated and replayed as our eyes met. I imagined him in uniform with me cuffed to the bars of a cell with my pants around my ankles being pleasured in unimaginable ways. It occurred to me as I spread my legs and reveled in the sensation of his strong fingers wrapped around my dripping rod, that I'd never sweated the details of what I was doing in jail to begin with. I tried thinking of plausible reasons and scenarios: anything to prolong the intense gratification I was experiencing at that moment.
The thought of this hot stud, in or out of uniform, jacking me off ultimately proved too much. My balls were bottomless jizz pits as I shot off load after load across the pillow.
"Oh fucking shit!" I cried out just before sinking into a guttural growl of animal lust.
If words had failed me, as they often did in moments of passion, I was sure that I'd gotten the point across that he'd done an admirable job. Martinez licked away the last drop of semen from my spent dick, pressed his muscular body against mine, spoon fashion, and began to drift off. We stayed there in the dim light, our bodies stuck together, smelling of sweat and spent cum, until I felt a pang of guilt and broke the silence.
"I have to confess something."
"What's that?" he asked from the crook of my neck.
"I was fantasizing there at the end."
"If I wasn't part of it I don't want to know."
"You were all of it. I was picturing you doing that in your uniform."
He nibbled at my ear and wrapped is fist around my stiffening dick.
"That's funny. I was imagining you in a three piece suit with my dick shoved up your ass. What do you suppose that means?"
"I think it means we've got some big cleaning bills ahead of us." I turned in his arms and we started again.
EPILOG
Roberto arrived home late Sunday night to find that Rosa had packed her bags without my help and had moved in with a woman she met one night while he was on duty. The two of them are happy and we've even double dated a few times. She thinks I'm the best thing that ever happened to Roberto, and I agree. It goes without saying that he's the best thing that's happened to me.
Rob wasn't quite as understanding and took endless delight in giving Roberto shit about his line of work. You can imagine how surprised he was to find that shit can fly in both directions. Martinez, which is what I usually call him, has an equally sharp sense of humor.
Once peace was finally made, Rob even started doing volunteer work at the local police sub station on Sunset Boulevard. As of this writing he's going at it hot and heavy with a rookie cop named Hinkle or something like that. The kid is about half his age and is convinced Rob can do no wrong. Some day I'll have a long heart to heart with him just to set the record straight.
The girls are still working the street and stirring up shit for European movie stars, but they stay away from the streets around Sunset and Fairfax. I'm willing to bet it has a lot to do with the handsome cop who's frequently seen leaving my house with a shit eating grin on his face.
It's been almost three years since that night in the driveway and we're still going strong. After much discussion, we've decided that the relationship is strong enough for us to take the next step and move in with me. It's not going to be easy, but we'll face the shit that forced his partner to retire as it comes up.
In the time we've been together, we've fucked, in and out of uniforms and three-piece suits, in every room in the house as well as several choice spots in the back yard. What's important is that we don't need the fantasy to enjoy each other. Once the uniforms come off, we're just two guys having a great time loving each other. Take it from me; given the chance, reality can be better than anything your mind can conceive.
30