A Thing for Cops

by Roland Graeme

  “Suck!” That was all he said to me. And I did it—I sucked!

  That horny bastard taught me more about guy-to-guy sex in that one session than some gay men I’ve talked to said they learned in their whole first year out.

  I had to learn fast. First, I had to figure out how to open my mouth wide enough to fit his big cock inside it. I had to force myself to relax my jaw. Then, as Marco jabbed his dick back and forth between my lips, fucking my face, I fought to suppress my gag reflex. In sheer self-defense, I closed my lips firmly around the circumference of his bloated shaft and massaged it with my mouth. That was the only way I could exercise some semblance of control over the force-feeding he was subjecting me to.

  He coached me through it.

  “I’d better feel just your lips on my dick, not your teeth,” he warned me. “You bite me, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth right down your throat. Now, you get that mouth of yours nice and tight around my cock, like a hot wet pussy, and you suck it. You better suck it good. You better make that big cock of mine feel good. And get some tongue action going on it, too, for Christ’s sake. Lick the motherfucker while you suck it.”

  I struggled to obey.

  I’d just about begun to get comfortable sucking his huge cock when he pulled it out of my mouth and told me to use my tongue on his hairy balls instead. I licked them feverishly, but he still wasn’t satisfied. Now, he wanted me to suck them both inside my mouth and play with them like that.

  “That’s right,” he groaned. “Oh yeah, that’s what I like to feel, a hot mouth working on my balls.”

  Then, at his command, I treated him to more cock sucking…after which Marco turned around, rammed his bare ass right into my face, and told me to “Stick that hot tongue of yours up my ass and rim the hell out of it, pretty boy!”

  I’d heard about that particular sex act. Hell, I’d just seen it acted out in lurid detail, in Cops in Cuffs. But I was hesitant to try it—until Marco grabbed my cock and balls in his fist, gave them a painful squeeze, and threatened to twist them right off if he didn’t feel my tongue going in and out of his back door by the time he counted to three.

  I did it. He was sweaty between his buttocks, but I have to give the son of a bitch credit for good anal hygiene. He was squeaky clean back there, and once I overcame my initial repugnance, it didn’t take me long to really get into it. I kissed his sphincter pucker, then penetrated it with my tongue and licked frantically around the inner circumference of the hole.

  Marco got off on my sucking his ass, too. He started squirming and moaning and grunting like a horny animal while he took his cock in his fist and beat off, pushing his ass even more tightly against my mouth until I could hardly breathe.

  I rimmed him and rimmed him until he got close to coming, I guess, because then he pulled away from me quickly and grabbed at my open pants to yank them down to my ankles, along with my shorts. I knew that I was about to get fucked for the first time, right there in the executive washroom.

  “No,” I moaned, but Marco told me to close my trap until he wanted to be blown or rimmed again.

  “You’re going to get fucked,” he informed me. “And you’re going to love it!”

  He spat into his palm and rubbed the saliva over the head of his cock, then he pulled my legs up and over his shoulders.

  He spat in his hand again and sucked on his index finger to get it good and wet, then he played roughly with my asshole to get it hot and warmed up for his dick, and lubricated.

  I got turned on like gangbusters when I felt the blunt tip of his finger stabbing through my butt hole and wriggling around inside my ass.

  “Yeah, that’s a nice hole you’ve got there. I guess we’d better play it safe and use a rubber,” he said. “Like they taught us in all those stupid sex ed classes.”

  Of course, he had a box of condoms and a tube of lubricant in that gym bag of his. He might not have been a Boy Scout, but he’d come on our outing fully prepared.

  So Marco pulled his finger out and moved in tight against me, my buns pressed to his groin, to replace it with his cock. He paused only long enough to encase his erection in a rubber and coat it with a little of the lube.

  I squirmed, but once he saw that I wasn’t really trying to fight him off—I was only tensing up because I’d never done it before and I was scared—he got unexpectedly gentle all of a sudden. “Relax,” he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you. And you’re going to like it—I promise.” All the while he was easing the head of his huge fuck tool through my sphincter muscle and into my asshole, inch by fat, throbbing inch, until all twelve inches were stuffed up into me and I wasn’t much of a virgin any longer.

  It hurt…it hurt like hell at first, as though a hot piece of metal had been stabbed up into my rectum. But once I felt all of that big hard thing in me, I got over my discomfort fast. And when he began to move his cock in and out of me, I freaked out totally.

  You know what a really good, hot, turned-on ass fuck feels like, I’m sure…well, I nearly came after those first couple of strokes, it felt so wild.

  Before I knew it, I was begging Marco to slip his meat to me as hard and as hot and as heavy as he could. And he took me right at my word—we balled like animals

  I guess I thought—if I was thinking coherently at all, which I doubt—that if I did get inadvertently “outed” against my will and disgraced for life for committing an act of sodomy, then I might as well enjoy it while I could.

  Marco fucked me for what felt like hours, although in reality it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes or so. He had my hard prick in his hand, jerking on it, and he kept asking me, every time I let out an especially loud moan or squirmed extra hard around his solid shaft that was pounding in and out of my butt, if I was going to come yet.

  “I don’t know,” I answered breathlessly, each time.

  “Maybe I’m not fucking you hard enough,” he theorized. “Maybe that’s why you can’t come.” And he proceeded to pound my ass even harder and faster, which I hadn’t believed possible. “Yeah,” Marco grunted, as he continued to work on my cock. “This ought to do it. Damn! Your dick is getting all wet and slimy with jizz.”

  At last I could feel it building up on my guts for sure, the same way it did when I masturbated, but infinitely more intense, so I told him, “Yeah, I can’t help it, I can’t hold it back. I’m going to shoot, you fucker!”

  Then he amazed me! He took his hand away from my cock and yanked his own dick out of my ass—hard! I screamed my head off, because it scraped so badly coming out. But then, as quick as greased lightning, that fucking sex maniac Marco took another condom and unrolled it down around my wildly excited prick. He turned around and sat on my cock and rammed it right up his own butch butt, all the way, in one shove, without any spit or anything else on it to lubricate it.

  I penetrated him completely. I touched his fucking prostate with the tip of my prick. He groaned and clamped his buttocks together around me real hard and squeezed with his shitter muscle. He rode me, flexing his knees and bouncing up and down on top of me, impaling himself on the full length of my cock. I shuddered helplessly under him—and then I came, like a goddamn oil well spurting up into the air.

  I filled the condom, buried deep inside that bastard’s horny asshole, with my hot cum until I was sure the latex must be expanding like a blown-up balloon. I was afraid it might burst at any moment and flood Marco’s rectum with a cum douche. But Marco just whacked his own dick a couple of times as he rode up and down on my cock, and then he fired his own thick wad all over the place.

  It was the wildest thing I’d ever done up to then—and, looking back now, with the advantage of hindsight, I haven’t done many wilder things since, even though I’ve sure as fuck given it the old school try.

  Chapter Two

  A Second Taste of Sex

  It was almost as though Marco was the one who’d been overpowered, restrained, and taken advantage of, not me. Hell, after all, my hands were tied�
��what could I do but fuck him, if that was what he wanted from me? I was just the innocent victim of his brutal lust, as they say in the tabloids.

  “God, fucking you sure got me horny!” was the only explanation he made for his lewd behavior as he pulled his tight little asshole off my still-throbbing, dribbling dick and grabbed a handful of toilet paper with which to wipe himself off between the buns. “If you ever tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you,” he added quite matter-of-factly as he unlocked the handcuffs and set me free.

  I knew a good thing when I had it in my mouth or up my ass, though, so I wasn’t about to say anything to anybody.

  He was careful to put the used condoms into the paper cup, along with the ashes and the stub of the joint we’d smoked, so that once again we could dispose of the potentially incriminating evidence after we left the building. Marco, incidentally, was quite serious about Cops in Cuffs being a present for me. He insisted that I keep the magazine. It became favorite jack off material for me, and I still own it, to this day.

  “You know something, Five-O?” he asked me.

  “No, what?”

  He grinned insolently at me. “For such an uptight, white bread son of a bitch—you’re not a bad fuck.”

  I assumed this was a compliment, so I took it as such.

  The two of us got it on regularly after that first episode…at least two or three times a week for the rest of the summer, and always in that vacant office building, either on Saturday or Sunday afternoons, or late at night during the week. After that first time, of course, I didn’t bother to make even a token display of reluctance. I was hot for Marco’s cock, and he knew it—and he took full advantage of the fact.

  Now, we got naked the moment we were safely inside the inner office. We had sex on the couch, or on the carpeted floor. Sometimes we indulged in a little role playing with the handcuffs. I have to admit it—I loved being Marco’s sex slave. Naked, with my wrists cuffed behind my back, I would service him abjectly with my lips and my tongue, licking and sucking him everywhere. He’d inevitably become so excited that at some point he’d grab a condom and shove his cock up my ass, usually with my wrists still restrained. Damn, that was a turn-on! I pretended that he was a hot young Italian-American cop, fucking me, and the fantasy always got me so aroused that my ejaculations were fast, prolonged, and unusually wet.

  On rare but memorable occasions, Marco would assume the passive role. He’d let me cuff him, then order him around sexually and finally screw him.

  “Take that big cop dick of mine up your ass, punk,” I’d growl at him, deriving my inspiration from Cops in Cuffs. “Come on, work that whore ass of yours around my cock. Do not resist. I’m warning you—do not dare fucking resist me!”

  Marco played along. “You lousy, stinking pig!” he yelled. “Go ahead and fuck me, if you think you’re man enough!”

  “I’ll show you who’s man enough. You have the right to take my cock up your ass, punk!”

  I told myself that subduing a stud in this way was good training for my future career as a police officer. And, in a perverse way, I suppose it was.

  I became quite adept at coming up with a variety of plausible excuses to explain my absences from home.

  At eighteen, a guy doesn’t really have lovers—just fuck buddies. And, even had I been romantically inclined, Marco would’ve been a most unlikely candidate.

  Sex with him was great, but it was also frustrating to the extent that it was so crude and animalistic. All he really wanted was to get his rocks off. Now that my eyes had been opened to the possibilities of man-to-man sex, I quickly started fooling around with other guys, if only for the sake of a little erotic variety.

  Thanks to Marco’s rather brutal, but highly efficient, initiation, I was already mature for my age in the sex department. I now knew what I wanted—sex with other men—and if I wanted a guy badly enough, I wasn’t at all shy about asking him if he was interested.

  And the direct approach usually paid off. Before long I had any number of guys—even supposedly straight guys—sniffing around me like so many horny dogs, except that they were wagging their dicks instead of their tails.

  It was a summer of sexual discovery for me. A summer of lust.

  My second really memorable trick was another former classmate, a real good-looking guy—tall, muscular, with the kind of sexy smile that melts your insides. Back in school, Mitch had been pursued by every girl with hot pantyhose, and he had a reputation as a player, but I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop me. When I happened to run into him on the street one day, I came right out with it. I told him I’d always been hot for his cock, and that I still was.

  Okay, so maybe I was a little more subtle than that. We started out with the usual small talk, reliving our school days and talking about mutual acquaintances.

  “I’ve seen you hanging out with that dude Marco Torelli.” Mitch remarked.

  “Yeah? What of it?”

  “He’s kind of rough, isn’t he?”

  I shrugged. “He’s all right, once you get to know him.”

  “I’ve heard all sorts of wild rumors about him.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as, he lets older guys suck him off for money.”

  This was news to me. I made a mental note to ask Marco about it. But, after all, I was getting his cock for free, so I had nothing to complain about.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. That Marco is one crazy fucker. He’ll try anything.”

  “Imagine letting some dude go down on you,” Mitch persisted. “That’s disgusting. Sucking your cock. Keeping it in his mouth until you shoot off. Swallowing your cum. Disgusting!”

  I couldn’t help noticing that he seemed kind of obsessed by the idea, “disgusting” or not.

  “You let your girlfriends suck your cock, don’t you?” I asked him, crudely.

  “Sure,” he boasted. “Whenever I can talk them into doing it. Some of them really get into it.”

  “A guy gives better head than a woman. Because a guy knows how his own cock feels, so he knows what to do with another guy’s cock.”

  Mitch snickered. “You sound like quite an expert on the subject.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Don’t tell me you let guys suck you off.”

  “Sure I do—and for free. I don’t charge them. I like it.”

  “You’re kidding me. You like it?”

  “What’s not to like, if the guy knows what he’s doing? There’s nothing like a really hot cock sucker working on your dick, getting ready to swallow your load. You get to shoot your wad—and you don’t have to buy the bastard dinner,” I added, cynically.

  “Yeah, but the only problem is…some of these gay guys are likely to expect you to return the favor. You know, do it both ways.”

  “That can be pretty hot too,” I dared to suggested.

  “What—doing it both ways?”

  “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I like it either way.”

  “What’re you telling me? Are you really a cock sucker?” he asked, when he got over his shock.

  “Yeah! And I want to suck yours!” I told him brazenly.

  Mitch was no fool. He wasn’t going to pass up a chance for a hot blow job. We went for a drive in his car, out to a notorious isolated place where everybody—straight couples on dates, I mean—parked.

  Well, this guy Mitch was straight—supposedly—but he’d obviously been around long enough to know the score. Before long we were making out pretty hot and heavy for a couple of teenaged guys, doing a lot of crotch-rubbing and exchanging dirty talk about our dicks and what we’d like to do with them. It was wild stuff for a gay kid my age, who still had such little practical experience, to find himself fooling around with one of the best-looking studs in town. But, as exciting as it was, I wanted more.

  I kept thinking about Marco’s cock, about how ruthlessly it always penetrated and used my mouth
and ass. I could feel Mitch’s schlong through his pants and I wondered if it would be as big as Marco’s, and if it would taste the same in my mouth, and if it would shoot out the same amount of fuck juice I’d swallowed so often when Marco ejaculated. I decided to find out.

  I unzipped Mitch’s fly and took his cock out. It was big. Hairy, too. Christ, that dude had enough hair around his dick to stuff a small pillow with! And enough meat to stuff a cock sucker’s throat with to the strangulation point.

  Mitch fell silent beside me—no doubt with embarrassment—so I just played with him for a while, and then I started bending down in the car seat to get a closer look at his prick. Mitch must’ve gotten frustrated by the delay, because suddenly I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and he was pushing my face down toward his cock.

  “Go on, man, give me a blow job, since that’s what we drove out here for!” he gasped.

  I went down on him eagerly, right there in the front seat of the car, in broad daylight. He groaned, spread his legs, and thrust upward to fuck my face. I sucked him hungrily. And then, before I knew it, he was shooting off in my mouth!

  It took me by surprise, because Marco usually lasted so much longer, but I didn’t really mind. I liked the salty taste of Mitch’s jism, its thick texture, and I swallowed it all greedily without thinking twice about it.

  Afterwards, of course, Mitch seemed torn between satisfaction and embarrassment. “Jesus, Jim,” he muttered. “You really are good at it—and you do get off on it, don’t you?”

  I didn’t deny it.

  Needless to say, though, I wasn’t satisfied with that one quickie. After that I had two steady sex partners. I made it with Marco in the office building, and with Mitch in his car. We’d drive out to some isolated spot and I’d have little difficulty talking the stud into giving me a mouthful of his meat again.

  Once Mitch got used to having sex with me, he relaxed and lost his shyness.

  We actually got quite bold and inventive as our little affair progressed. Less than a week after our first suck-off session together, I talked him into stripping stark naked before we got it on.