The Hanky Code (BLUE) By Hunter Dean
"Slip, please," the coatroom attendant asked as I patted down my pockets. Thanks to the gin, my memory was slightly cloudy, and I couldn't remember exactly where I'd tucked it away.
"Aha!" I exclaimed, handing the crumpled piece of paper to the attendant. He raised a brow as he unfolded the paper and squinted at the now-faded numbers. His emerald green eye looked at me and then back to the slip. "Are you the guy who was here earlier?" I asked as he walked away from the counter and sifted through the racks of coats and attendees' belongings.
"Yes, Sir. Just one moment, and I will retrieve your jacket," he said from the back of the coatroom.
Could have sworn the guy early had been taller, but my memory couldn't be trusted at the moment. I drummed my fingers along the wooden counter and watched the attendees walk in and out of the hotel, the ones leaving more intoxicated than those arriving at the hotel. The party was only beginning for some, while others, like myself, were calling it a night. "Here you go," said the attendant, handing the jacket to me. I squinted and leaned toward his name tag to see the nearly microscopic lettering.
"Thank you, Jeffrey," I said as I slipped the jacket over my broad shoulders.
"Oh, my name's not Jeffrey," He said with a mischievous grin. Something in the way he smiled at me--stared at me--made me think he knew something that I didn't. His gaze held longer than normal and started to make me feel nervous. It made me feel as if I were missing something, but before I could ask not-Jeffrey why he stared, he walked into the long rows of coats, and another man reappeared from the opposite direction. Now this attendant I recognized.
"Hey, where did the other guy go?" I asked, slurring slightly. The attendant's brows knitted together.
"I'm the only one here tonight, Sir. Is there a problem?" the attendant asked. I shook my head. The gin must have been a lot stronger than I'd thought. "Do you need me to call you a cab, Sir?" the man asked, noticing how I wobbled slightly as I stood in the window.
I shook my head once more as I patted down my coat. "I'm fine," I said before I walked towards the exit, still searching for my keys. "Where the fuck--?" I muttered as I searched all my jacket pockets and finally found them within one of the many inner pockets of my jacket wrapped in a swatch of dark blue fabric. It was soft fabric and appeared expensive, with delicate, swirling designs that seemed to radiate outward from the center. Interlocking chains that spiraled down into themselves. I didn't remember the cloth in my pocket before the party or even owning a handkerchief.
"Is this anyone's . . . handkerchief?" I asked, waving the hankie in the air as If I were surrendering a battle. "Anyone's?" I called out again, but nobody claimed it. "Going once, going twice . . . and it's mine," I said as I tucked the hankie into the front pocket of my jacket. It wasn't my taste, but it was a lovely accessory if I attended another company event. I looked into the large mirror that occupied the entry wall and winked at my reflection. It wasn't originally the look I'd been going for, but it did add a dash of suaveness.
Walking through the hotel's wide entry hall, I dodged my boss while eyeing a few potential prospects I might bring home. Kim from finance was a bitch, but she was fun to be around if you got a few drinks in her. But she seemed to be animatedly talking to a man, whom I assumed was her husband, so she was a pass. Bethany from the sales team followed me all night, dropping hints of being ready and eager, but she was a stage five clinger, and I was not that desperate. So as I crossed the threshold and walked down the entry's stairs, I accepted that tonight would be another solo jerk off and binging the rest of this season of Westworld. I shrugged at the thought. I hoped the evening would have been better, but it could have been much worse. I snagged one final drink off a waiter's tray, downed it, and showed the valet my ticket.
The valet had just vanished into the parking lot when I felt the leering eyes of my boss come up from behind. I looked over my shoulder and saw his eyes ogling my lower half. I made a pointed cough, which ended his eye-fucking. I prayed for the valet to pull around faster, but he was not fast enough to avert an extremely uncomfortable drunken conversation with George.
Over the years, George dropped several hints about drinks at his place or taking me to dinner on the company dime. I lost count of the times he accidentally' brushed against my ass or fell' into me in the elevator.
"Danny boy! How's it going?" He clapped my shoulder. "I didn't know you were here, leaving so early?"
"Early morning tomorrow, don't wanna be too hungover at work," I answered, watching my car turn down the hotel's long driveway. "You have a good evening Mr. Freeman." I tried to step away but was pulled into an overly friendly hug, one where my boss's hands grazed down my back and cupped my pert buttocks. Something hard pressed against my thigh as he leaned into my ear. I lied to myself and said it must have been his phone, even though I knew better.
"You sure you don't want to come over for a drink? I have a fresh bottle of whisss--" he ground his `phone' into my thigh harder.
"Have a good night, Mr. Freeman," I said, cutting him off and running toward my car. I tossed the valet a wad of cash, slid into the driver's seat, and put the car in drive. In my rearview mirror, I watched my boss pout momentarily before readjusting his crotch as he watched my car drive away.
"Fucking faggot," I grunted in disgust. It wasn't the first time he'd openly groped me, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Never at work, but every Christmas, Fourth of July, and Halloween party when he was all liquored up, he bravely made his advances and offered to get me into bed. I had made it abundantly clear that I was straight, but that didn't stop his eyes or hands every major holiday.
Tucking the failure of a night into the back of my mind, I shifted gears and pressed harder on the throttle. I needed to be home and out of this fucking monkey suit. I was thankful for the long weekend and the free dinner, but I just wanted to be on my couch.
I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the annoyance of the evening, or my wish to be home, but I hadn't noticed when my car accelerated past sixty, then seventy, and when my car hit just a hair over ninety, blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror.
"Fuckin shit!" My heart raced as I popped a mint into my mouth, chewed vigorously on the hard coating, and pulled over onto the shoulder of the back road. Mint rolled across my tongue and over my mouth. I swallowed the remains and crunched hard on a second one, hoping the spearmint would overpower the smell of alcohol on my breath. I wasn't sure where I was regarding the legal limit, but I knew I had enough alcohol in my system to prompt a test. I turned off my car and watched an oversized silhouette of the officer step from his car and walk towards me. I swallowed my nerves as he stood at the driver's side window and motioned for me to lower it. The entire vehicle shifted to one side as he leaned into it.
"Do you know how fast you were going, boy?" he asked, his southern drawl heavily coating his consonants and vowels. He rubbed his thick jaw and stereotypical handlebar mustache as he searched my face and the backseat of my car.
"I'm sorry, officer, I was paying attention to the road. You know how you can lose track of your speed when you're alone out here," I said, trying to charm my way out of a ticket. He stood up and looked to the left and the right. Not a single car was coming or going in either direction. The officer lifted his arms and stretched; his broad chest and barrel gut strained the buttons of his uniform, threatening to burst, even though the top buttons were undone. The sleeves were taut against his beefy arms and along his shoulders. A dense forest of dark curly hair reached and grabbed at the edges of his unbuttoned shirt. He wasn't just big. He was a goddamn gorilla. His size put his clothes' seams to the test, and looked ready to pop if he made one wrong move. The officer looked towards his watch, placed his oversized hand back on the windowsill, and looked back at me.
"That wasn't my question. I asked, did you know how fast you were going?" His deep voice dropped several octaves lower, nearly to a threatening level.
"No, Sir," I said softly as I clutched my steering wheel tightly, partially in anger but mostly fear. "Where you come from, Boy? Some fancy-pants party?" he asked as his hand snatched the blue handkerchief from my front pocket. He examined the fabric.
"Yes, Sir. It... it was a company party," I stuttered. I waited for a response, but he said nothing. The officer unfolded the fabric and stared at the design, swaying slightly as his head gently moved in a circle. His eyes were unblinking, and his body stilled as if he had been put into a trance, captivated by the swirling decorations of the handkerchief.
"Officer?" I asked. "Sir?" I asked, reaching my hand out through the window. I took hold of his forearm and gave it a soft jostle. "Officer? Are you okay?"
He snapped back into reality and scowled at me, acting as if the last few moments of silence hadn't happened. He folded the handkerchief, and pushed it back into my front pocket. He took a few sniffs of the air around me and stepped from my vehicle.
"You have anything to drink today?" he asked as he adjusted his crotch. My eyes followed his hand and saw a mound growing within his skintight pants. His hand moved across his lap, growing down one of his pant legs, unrestrained by any underwear--bile form in the back of my throat.
What the fuck was happening?
"No," I lied. I prayed that the mint would work, that he was following standard procedure, but something told me he wasn't asking for the hell of it. The officer leaned his enormous head into my car and sniffed the air from my lips. I held my breath as the scents of aftershave and cigars filled my vehicle.
He sniffed again, moved his nose towards my mouth, and growled, "Smells like gin. Step out of the car." The officer's hot breath washed over my face. I wished I had gone home with Bethany or to my boss's for a drink. At least I knew I could hold myself against the two of them but not this beast of a man.
"Officer, I had one drink at the party. I'm not drunk. I'm--"
"Step. Out. Of. The. Car. Boy," he said again, over-enunciating every word as he pulled himself from my window and stepped back. I swallowed my words and fear as I exited my vehicle. Quicker than I could blink, he pulled me toward the front of my car and shoved my body onto the hood. The engine's heat warmed my body as the office pressed me into the metal surface. He slapped my legs, and I spread them apart.
"I see guys like you all the time," he said as he patted down the sides of my torso. His movements were rough and hurried along my upper body as if he were not searching for anything. He stopped at my waist and jumped to my legs, patting the inside and outside as he continued to speak. "Big businessmen. Guys who think they got everything. Men whose lives are meaningless with all their money, and they end up driving recklessly up and down these streets at night . . ." The officer paused as he leaned his massive body onto mine, weighing down the vehicle and crushing me in the process. His mustache tickled my ear as his thin lips pressed into my ear and whispered, " . . . just so they can get caught by men like me so they can live out their nasty little fantasies." The officer pressed his hips into my ass, and I felt the full girth of his hard cock.
"What the fuck!" I shouted as I fought his heavy frame and the massive erection he massaged into my backside.
"Oh, you like to pretend? You want me to stop? You want the big bad police officer to let you go?" he asked. His tone was mocking and demeaning as he ground his cock into my trouser-covered ass. I could feel the heat radiating from his groin as he held my arms in place on my vehicle. His heavy form didn't budge as I tried to push him off. "I don't think with an ass like this. You'd have any trouble getting men to pull you over and pat you down." My heart raced, my breathing was heavy, and my cock was . . . hard?
"Please, Officer, just let me go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! This is all a huge misunderstanding. I'm not--"
"Misunderstanding, huh?" he sneered. He placed his hand between my thighs and grabbed at my throbbing member. He groped at my cock, bringing it fully erect. The tip oozed precum into my pants and continued as he manhandled me. I bit down on my inner cheek to stop the moan from escaping my mouth, but it grew too powerful as he rubbed his fingers along my shaft.
"Ughhh," I moaned. My body arched into his muscular form, thrusting my ass into his waiting erection. He laughed at me and humped back, grinding his cock into my ass.
"Fuck, the boys at the station are going to love getting a piece of this ass." The officer's hands went from my cock and squeezed both cheeks. I moaned again. "So round and juicy. Fuck. Hotter than my wife's flabby ass." His hands dug into the sides of my cheeks, massaging the deep layers of muscle and tissue. My eyes fluttered, and my cock pulsed.
I never wanted someone to touch my ass like this, and now it was all I could wish to or think about. Just thinking of the hundreds of times my boss touched my ass or slapped my cheeks when he would get too drunk made my cock throb even harder. I was so lost in my memories that I didn't notice when the officer took hold of my pants and ripped it and my underwear down the middle, fully exposing my ass. The officer got to his knees and whistled a sound of approval as he lightly slapped the underside of one of my cheeks, appreciating the way it bounced. "Bad boy, indeed," he said as he kissed the side of one of my cheeks while his fingers trailed against one the other. "Love the tattoo."
"Tattoo?" I asked. "I don't have a--" I stopped as a memory grew in my consciousness. A remembrance of me, ass-up on a tattoo artist's chair as he inked my plump cheeks, and how he fucked me so hard afterward he threw in a second tattoo for free. Large bold letters were etched into my skin that day so anyone who saw my ass would know: "Bad Boy" and "Officer's Bitch."
The sound of the officer unzipping his pants meshed with my uncontrolled moaning.
"Does this bad boy want to take this massive cop's cock?" he slapped his dick against my ass, decorating my tattoos with splatters of precum. I looked over my shoulder, and my mouth filled with saliva.
"Fuck me," I moaned as I stared at the thick monster the officer held in his hands. It was the same size all the way down--thick like a beer can. His mushroom head dripped a steady stream of precum. An itch appeared deep within my asshole, one that I knew he could scratch with his massive cock. He pulled my cheeks apart, spit at my hole, and rubbed his fingers along my crack. Shivers ran up and down my spine as he played with my hole, sliding his fingers in and out of my body.
"Already loosened too. Bet you were dying waiting for a cop to pull you over to fuck this ass of yours, weren't you?"
My toes curled with anticipation. I needed him to fuck me.
"Oh, Officer, I've been a bad boy. I need you to punish me." I widened my stance and pushed out my ass to meet his fingers as he added more to stretch me further. I reached around and felt his cock; my hand slid up and down the shaft, bathing it in his precum. I searched further, feeling his low hangers bounce as he fingered my hole. He allowed me several strokes of his cock before he took out his handcuffs.
"Don't want you getting too frisky." He laughed as he cuffed them behind my back and held me firmly against the hood of my car. "Ughhh, Officer!" I cried, loving the feeling of forced submission and the metal against my wrists.
"That's right. You're a bad boy. And I'm here to punish you. You're just made to get fucked, aren't you?" His fingers wormed around in my hole, moving without resistance. "This pussy is just opening up for me," the officer growled. His fingers pistoned faster, summoning more memories.
Another image appeared in my memory. One of me, earlier in the evening, shoving my fingers into my hole, lubing and widening my hole for a hopeful late-night fuck. While others ate and drank, I hid in a stall with my legs in the air and hoped for a hard fucking to come. The memories of me flirting with women were slowly erased and replaced with hours spent knuckle-deep in my pussy, wishing for an officer to pull me over tonight.
"Yes, Officer! I want it so bad! Please fuck me like a bad boy. Treat me like a whore from the streets," I begged as his fingers dug deeper into my hole, readying me for his cock. His fingers slipped from my gaping hole and licked them clean, moaning at the taste. An emptiness set in, a feeling of yearning to be filled. I looked back over my shoulder at the massive cock that he played with and needed it. I was nothing without it. I needed this officer's cock in me! "Stick it in! Please, I need it! Please use me! Fuck me! Officer, fuck me hard like I deserve it." He responded to my pleas with a deep chuckle. He lined his cock up with my hole, wiping his head around my gape. I clenched my hole, winking at the officer before it opened.
"Fucking whore," he said, plunging his cock into my body.
It was like fireworks going off in my head--loud, pleasurable, excruciating fireworks. With every inch, my body opened up to the pleasure and the submission. His cock sank deep into my hole without pausing. My head spun from the thickness of his cock and the unending length of his shaft. I thought I would feel it coming out my mouth before I felt my ass pressed against his lap. I lost all control. My cock spasmed beneath my body, shooting tight ropes of cum across the hood of my car as he pushed me back and forth to meet his thrusts.
"God, this ass is so tight!" The police officer groaned before he spanked one of my sizable cheeks. "This is prime pussy!" He said as he slammed his lap into my ass. If it was fireworks before, it was explosions now when I felt his entire cock fill my cavity. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as my body accepted every inch of his cock. "Better hold onto something," he teased as his hips slowly pulled his shaft out and then pushed it back into my hole. My body and car rocked back and forth with fucking, never losing the tempo.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth, his cock moved as he widened my pussy and made me submit to his authority over my body. His heavy balls slapped against my much smaller pair, teasing them with their size and the pain that came every time they hit against one another. I worried that a car would see us on the side of the street. A slut hungry for an officer's dick, but the thought of getting caught only enhanced the pleasure. Knowing that my secret could get out made my head spin.
I wanted the cop to fuck me harder and longer.
His thrusts became aggressive as he fucked me on top of my vehicle, on the roadside, with the lights of his car illuminating our sexual depravity. His cock throbbed within me. I knew he would soon flood my asshole with his load. I clenched my muscles around his cock and held tightly, but he pulled back, exiting completely from my hole. I gaped, and his precum leaked, draining along my crack. I screamed for him to cum in me, to fill me again, until he bred me like a proper whore. He laughed, took hold of my hips, and flipped me around as if I weighed nothing.
"I like to look my bad boys in the face when I cum in their pussies," he sneered as he lifted my legs into the air, ripping my trousers more, and pushed his cock back into my hole. I gasped at the new pleasure centers that he pressed as he fucked me on my back. I looked towards my lap and saw that my cock had become stiff again and bounced untouched between us. I groaned in humiliation. I loved it so much, and I only wanted more. I stared at his manly face, his strong jaw, and heavy brow as he grunted and groaned. Rings of sweat grew around his collar, and his chest hair grew matted with sweat. I wanted to press my face into his chest. I wanted to smell the deep rich scents buried within the forest of hair covering his body.
But I'm not gay, I told myself. I didn't lust after cops. I didn't finger-bang myself. I didn't want my boss to bend me over his desk after work and fuck me until I couldn't walk straight. I tried to focus on the multiple glaring problems with my situation, but my mind urged me to enjoy, my cock begged for attention, and my hole demanded punishment. With each thrust of his cock, I felt more of my common sense being buried underneath the mountains of lust I felt for this man, this cock, this officer.
"Ugh!" I cried, high-pitched and sensual. "Oh! Oh! OHHH!" I moaned, feeling my cock ooze another load into the front pouch of my underwear. I squeezed my hands tightly as my hole grasped the officer's cock and squeezed, wanting his load more than air itself.
"Here it comes, boy!" he shouted as a torrential flood of cum was fucked into my ass. I felt his thick ropes of cum scatter within my hole as my cock finished spewing its own load. His orgasm did not stop his fucking or his need to bury the load deep within my body. His cock remained thick and fuckable for several minutes after I felt the last rope of cum shoot into my body. And when his still-hard cock fell from my gaping hole, cum gushed and splattered onto the ground. I clenched my hole but could not stop the load as it dripped onto the street.
The officer zipped his pants and cracked his back, I thought he would let me go as most of the officers who fuck me do, but I was proven wrong when he lifted me over his shoulder and threw me into the back of the police car. Before he shut the door, I felt him push something long and cylindrical into my hole. I adjusted my position and watched as he fucked my used hole with his twelve-inch-long nightstick. He wedged it deep into me until only the handle hung free. I squirmed, and it pressed against my prostate, causing my cock to become erect again. It wasn't an officer's cock, but it did the trick.
"Wanna make sure all that cum doesn't leak out of that pussy before I get you back to the station. Wouldn't want it to go to waste before my guys get a taste." He slammed the door shut, settled into the front seat, and turned off the lights and sirens before he drifted back onto the road. I watched as we left my car abandoned there. I wanted to tell him to stop, to pull over and let me out. That this wasn't the real me. I wasn't gay for cops. But that feeling of the nightstick as it rubbed against my prostate was too fulfilling to ignore. So I laid in the back and jostled the nightstick back and forth as my cock leaked over my ruined suit, and I fantasized about what the cops would do to me when we got back to the station.
Epilogue
The Trickster settled between realms, working on his latest creation. His long fingers trailed across a loom as threads of every imaginable color intertwined. He maniacally laughed as his creation grew longer. The images and designs that he wove into the fabric were frantic, obscene, and drastic. He had created hundreds of yards of material, and there was no end in sight as he worked at his loom.
"Beautiful. So very beautiful," the Trickster gasped as he ran a sharpened fingernail along the edge of the fabric, cutting it from the loom. The bright colors shifted, unsure of what color to become. The Trickster was never sure what handkerchief he would create, as the threads had their own goals. He was just the Trickster, the one who planted them throughout the world so chaos could reign. The images in the fabric changed with the light, not ready to settle. The Trickster giggled as his mind filled with the trouble he would cause with such an item. He pushed himself away from the loom of fate and paced around his dark studio. "But where do I even start?" He asked himself as he waved his hand and disappeared from his space between worlds, ready to wreak some havoc.
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