An Officer And His Gentleman

by Ryan Field

  Brody had gone to a local four-year college, and he'd commuted from home. But he frowned and lowered his voice when he offhandedly told Chance that those years had been difficult. He'd almost been arrested when he was in college for possession of drugs—just pot, not hard drugs—but he'd been lucky that the cop had known his father and had let him off with a strong warning. Of course, the cop had to tell his mother, and that didn't help their strained relationship. He shook his head slowly when he told Chance that he actually screwed his biology professor to get a B. “I guess I was trouble back then,” he said. “My grades weren't bad, but could have been much better if I'd really studied. Thankfully, my SAT scores were really good, though. They saved me."

  Chance stared at him and tilted his head. “Sounds like you're pretty secure now."

  Brody swallowed the last drops of his beer and thought for a moment. “I'm okay with where I am now, but I'm not finished. There's more to the story, but I don't want to get into it right now."

  He ordered another beer, and Chance continued sipping his one martini while Brody continued to talk about how the Navy had shaped his life and helped make him a man. By the time Chance looked at his watch for the first time that night it was nearly eleven o'clock. “I have to get going, man,” he said, “I have to be at work tomorrow morning very early.” He tried to make it sound natural and not like an excuse to leave early, but when he saw how the expression on Brody's face fell, he knew he had to say something else. “Seriously, man. I really do have to get up very early, but I had a great time tonight. I'd like to get together again.” He smiled and then lightly punched Brody on the shoulder. “That is, if you want to."

  Brody sat up straight and smiled. “Cool. I'll walk you back to your car and we can exchange numbers. I'm going home, too."

  When they were in the dark parking lot walking side by side, Brody reached down and placed his palm lightly on the small of Chance's back. Nothing too obvious, but it was a little possessive, Chance thought. So he pointed toward the second row and said, “My car is over there.” Walking around, even if it was in the dark, with Brody's hand on his back make his stomach rumble a few times. But his stomach nearly jumped out of his mouth when Brody lowered his palm into his back pocket and started playing with his ass right there in the parking lot. It was all so casual and matter-of-fact; he just slipped his hand down and started squeezing. “You're not shy, are you?” Chance asked.

  Brody stepped back and shrugged. “I like you, is all. And you've got a great ass.” Then he pointed to the other side of the parking lot, near a long row of leafy trees. “I'm parked over there. Why don't you walk me to my car?” He smiled and started moving his eyebrows up and down.

  He thought about saying no because he wasn't sure he wanted to get too attached to someone just passing through town, but it occurred to him that he genuinely liked Brody. But more than that, he trusted Brody. So he sighed and continued walking. When they reached the car, a massive black Cadillac in pristine condition that had to be at least thirty years old, Chance pressed his hand to his throat and said, “This is something else."

  "It's my mother's car,” Brody said, “She's a little eccentric. She actually has two, this one for driving and another in the garage that's just used for spare parts. When she bought it back in the seventies, she wanted to make sure it would last for the rest of her life, so she bought two."

  Chance bent forward and looked into the front window on the passenger side. The front seat could fit at least four people, and the steering wheel was the size of an extra-large pizza. But the black leather seats were clean and smooth, and the chrome on the dashboard sparkled against a slight glare from the window. “My car is older, too. I keep it very clean, but this is perfect."

  Brody moved forward and pressed his groin up against Chance's ass and started bumping into him, He grabbed both sides of his slim waist and said, “The back seat is nice, too. We can talk some more there.” He squeezed his waist a little harder and pulled him back with more pressure.

  "Ah, well...” Chance said. “I don't know about this.” It was getting late and he didn't want to get into trouble with the old man by missing his curfew.

  Brody bent forward and gently bit the back of Chance's neck. “We won't do anything you don't want to do, baby; just talk if that's all you want."

  Chance took a deep breath, then stood up straight while Brody held on to him tightly. He felt Brody's erection through his jeans, and his own erection was growing rapidly. He looked at his watch and saw that it was only eleven fifteen. “I guess a few minutes more won't hurt.” It wasn't that he didn't want to fool around, because he did. It's just that he'd always managed to keep his sexual experiences simple, and he was already starting to have feelings for Brody..

  When they were in the back seat, Brody barely waited for the back door to slam shut. He put his arms around Chance and pinned him to the leather seat, then opened his mouth and pressed his lips on Chance's so lightly at first that Chance felt a chill go through his body, then his stomach felt peculiar. But he wrapped his arms around Brody's neck and opened his mouth for more. When Brody's warm tongue touched his, he closed his eyes and ran his palm up the back of Brody's strong neck. And when Brody's tongue started to circle and explore the inside of his mouth, he pressed his hand to the back of Brody's head even harder. His breath smelled and tasted like stale beer, and Chance inhaled as deeply and slowly as he could. He'd kissed his fair share of men, and they hadn't been bad, but this time it felt as if his body were about to explode. His toes curled and his eyes rolled back. He'd never in his life felt so overpowered, yet so safe, with anyone. It didn't take long before he was flat on his back across the seat with his arms around Brody's wide shoulders and his legs around Brody's slim waist.

  "You have really soft skin,” Brody whispered, “It gets me really hard.” He squeezed his shoulders and bit Chance's neck. Then he reached down and unbuttoned Chance's jeans so he could get into his pants and squeeze his ass. “I have to be careful, man. I'm ready to explode."

  Chance ran his palm up the back of Brody's neck and whispered, “I need to know that you're safe. No diseases or anything.” He didn't want to spoil the moment, but he wasn't about to have unsafe sex with anyone.

  "I'm okay,” Brody said. “No STDs and I was just tested for HIV/AIDS and I'm negative."

  Brody reached back and ran his hand up his ass. Chance's legs went higher and he sighed. “I'm okay, too. I only have safe sex."

  Brody was so excited he began to pant, and Chance didn't want to disappoint him in any way. The poor guy needed to get off—he was ready to either erupt or have a seizure. And there really wasn't enough time for a good fuck session. So Chance decided to take control from the bottom, so to speak. He hated to rush things, but he didn't want to get home after midnight and endure the wrath of Dan. More than that, he didn't want Brody going home with an unsatisfied erection either.

  So he pressed his palms against Brody's muscular chest and pushed him up to a sitting position again. His body was slim but solid, like stacked bricks. Brody's tongue was hanging by then, and he kept leaning forward and kissing Chance on the mouth. But Chance pushed him back and started to remove all his clothes. He wanted to be completely naked, and he wanted Brody to remain fully clothed. When he pulled off his black polo shirt, Brody reached forward and circled his nipples with the tips of his fingers. Chance playfully slapped his hand. When Chance took off his pants—he never wore underwear—Brody reached behind him with both large hands and grabbed his ass. While he squeezed and pulled the soft flesh, Chance wrapped the furry green snake around his naked neck. He thought Brody would like that, wearing nothing but the snake he'd won at the shooting range.

  Brody leaned forward and started kissing Chance's smooth abdomen. Chance arched his back, spread his legs, and bent all the way over so his face was directly between Brody's legs. Then he unzipped Brody's pants, pulled down the front of his white jockey shorts, and pulled out a cock so large that when
he wrapped his hand around the base there were about five more inches sticking out of his fist. The first time he'd seen Brody's knob, it had all happened so fast. Now he had time to really examine it fully.

  Brody leaned all the way back and spread his legs wider. He put one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the middle of Chance's bare ass and squeezed, then he closed his eyes and smiled. “Suck me off, baby,” he said. “Wrap those hot lips around my cock and drain it for me, baby.” His voice was deep and strong.

  Chance smiled. He liked it when guys talked dirty and he wanted to hear Brody beg to have his dick sucked. So he gently started to tug the big thing with his right hand; jerking slowly and tenderly at first, while Brody moaned and sighed with pleasure. Then he wrapped his left hand around the top and started to tug faster, with a sustained rhythm, until Brody's legs started to jerk and his hips started to buck forward. He had Brody on the edge; there was pre-come dripping from the opening and his balls were now tight.

  "Suck that dick, baby,” Brody said, “I don't know how long I can hold off now."

  Chance let go and the dripping erection fell against Brody's stomach. He slowly leaned forward and slipped the entire shaft into his mouth. It tasted salty from the pre-come. He swallowed back and tried to suck more drops of pre-come out. He began to suck with the same rhythm and tempo he'd used to jerk him off. Brody's legs began to move as if he couldn't stretch them out far enough. “Yeah, baby,” Brody shouted, “suck that dick faster, baby. I'm close."

  Chance did what he was told. His cheekbones indented and he took even breaths through his nose. He reached down and started to jerk his own prick so that he could climax at the exact same time Brody filled his mouth with white cream. Then Brody shouted, “Ah, yeah, baby, suck it...” His hips bucked again and he placed his palm on the back of Chance's head. When he applied pressure, and Chance's lips were pressed against his pubic hair, he came with such unplanned force that Chance almost choked on his load. But he didn't choke; he took it all without even so much as an awkward gag. And when Brody's come hit the back of his throat, he blew his own load all over the back seat of the car.

  Chance continued to suck until Brody finally became flaccid. Then he sucked both of his balls into his mouth and gently rolled them around his tongue for a minute. Brody took a deep breath and rested his head against the seat. He could have sucked on Brody's hairy balls all night, but he knew it was late. So he climbed up on Brody's lap and kissed him on the lips. “I have to put my pants on and leave now. I really do have to get home. Don't be mad at me for running out like this."

  "That was hot,” Brody said. He sat there, with his legs spread wide, gently slapping Chance's ass with both hands. “Your lips taste like my balls."

  "I like that,” Chance said, reaching down to cup his balls. “The dirty talk is hot.” He also knew how much guys liked it when he drained them dry and swallowed without thinking twice. Some were even shocked at how much he liked the taste of come.

  Brody slapped his ass hard. “I want to get a piece of that hot ass now."

  Chance removed the snake from his neck and wrapped it around Brody's, then jumped off his lap and put on his pants. “I have to get home. I wish I could stay here like this all night long. I'll bet I could get you off like that a couple of times tonight.” He pulled up his zipper and leaned over to put on his socks and shoes. Then he grabbed his shirt and leaned forward to kiss Brody good-bye. It was a long, deep kiss—he wrapped one arm around Brody's neck, opened his mouth, and started sucking Brody's tongue, all the while silently amazed at how utterly sloppy he could be with a guy as neat and perfect as Brody.

  He pulled back and asked, “Are we okay? You're not mad at me for running out?"

  Brody smiled and said, “I'm fine, baby."

  He opened the car door and got out. When he started to jog back to his own car, Brody yelled, “Wait, we didn't exchange phone numbers."

  "I'm at the market seven days a week. We'll get together again soon,” Chance shouted back. But by then he was unlocking his car and looking down at his watch. It was eleven forty-eight, which meant he'd have to drive home at record speed so the old man wouldn't torture him for being five minutes late.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  The upstairs living area of the market smelled like stale wine, watered-down vinegar and sour cheese: the odor of an unkempt old man who didn't shower or bother to wash his tweedy, threadbare clothes more than once a month. Chance slipped quietly up the staircase and into his own bedroom about five minutes after midnight. Dan was passed out in his own bedroom, flat on his back, with his mouth hanging half open, snoring so loudly it sounded as if grizzly bears had surrounded the property. He slept so soundly and peacefully that he might have been mistaken for someone's sweet little old grandfather, except Chance knew he'd probably finished off a bottle of red wine, a six-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes while he'd cheated his friends at poker that night.

  The next morning, Chance woke up at five with a smile on his face and a huge erection. He'd been dreaming about Brody. They were sailing down the roller coaster at The Island and he was sitting on Brody's lap. Brody was wearing a full dress officer's uniform and Chance was naked. They were eating buffalo chicken wings—the wings were in a huge aluminum bucket on the seat next to them—so hot and so strong, his mouth was parched when he woke up. Orange hot sauce and blue cheese dressing dripped down his face and his fingers were sticky and wet. Brody held his naked waist tightly and kept leaning forward and licking hot sauce off his fingers. The odd thing about the dream was that Chance's hands weren't shaking and his heart wasn't ready to pop out of his chest anymore. The faster the vicious roller coaster flew down the tracks, the wider he smiled, and the more he laughed.

  He kicked off the covers and closed his eyes so he could think about Brody. Then he reached down and began to stroke his erect penis with slow, precise movements. He imagined being completely naked, kneeling before Brody's wild erection, and taking it all the way to the back of his throat so that Brody's dark pubic hair rubbed against his nose. He opened his mouth and arched his back; he ran his tongue around his lips. He jerked his penis faster and his legs started to shudder a little. When he imagined that Brody was bucking his hips and stuffing his mouth with what had to be at least nine inches of wood, his shoulders went forward and his penis erupted with such force, the right side of his face was dripping with come a moment later.

  When he got out of bed, Dan was still snoring down the hall. But the dream had put him in such a good mood, Chance barely even heard it. The yellow false teeth soaking in stagnant water in the container on the bathroom sink didn't turn his stomach when he stood back and pointed his penis toward the toilet. He didn't feel the urge to gag when he saw the old man's crusty boxer shorts with brown, faded skid marks hanging over the shower curtain rod. When he was finished, he took a fast shower and then scoured the entire bathroom with water and bleach. He inhaled deeply—the watered-down bleach reminded him of the smell of Brody's come.

  Chance was usually awake by five each morning and down in the kitchen by five-thirty. This was his creative cooking time. Sometimes he baked large blueberry muffins with buttery golden tops; other times he prepared rich loaves of pound cake, or puffy glazed cinnamon rolls, or delicate foccacia bread. Each morning he cooked something special for the day, a recipe he'd designed and created himself that he displayed magnificently in a massive wooden bowl lined with a black-and-white striped cloth at the end of the deli counter. At first, Dan had been completely against the idea of having a “special” for each day of the week. His idea of running a market was to put out the basics, like cans of baked beans and ketchup, and collect the money. But when he saw how the customers flocked to the black-and-white striped cloth and were willing to pay twenty dollars for one of Chance's pound cakes or four dollars for one of his blueberry muffins, he shut his mouth. Half the time Dan couldn't even pronounce the specials, like when Chance bake
d loaves of bread and topped them with olive tapenade, but the people knew and they bought whatever he cooked. By the end of the day, the wooden bowl was always empty.

  It was rumored there were people who only went to Dan's market to see what the special for the day was. And it was always something they couldn't get anywhere else but there.

  Today, he whistled on his way down the back stairs. He'd been so inspired by his dream that he decided to create an original buffalo chicken spread, something hot and spicy that you could spread on a cracker as an appetizer, spread on a sourdough roll for lunch, or even place on a bed of baby greens for a light supper. The possibilities were endless. He'd done buffalo chicken wings before—he'd even created a special buffalo chicken calzone—but never a hot, spicy spread.

  He decided to use two extra-special ingredients: mascarpone cheese and just a hint of capers. He liked to layer different flavors, combining them for overall effect. With blueberry muffins he always added a hint of lime. No one knew, but the combination created a taste sensation that people couldn't resist. A special ingredient didn't have to be exotic and expensive, either. With his remarkable mac-and-cheese special, the two ingredients that made it taste exotic were nothing more than mustard powder and nutmeg.

  By the time Dan came hobbling down the back stairs that morning, fresh coffee was brewing, Chance was opening the front door, and at the end of the deli counter the wooden bowl was stacked neatly with small containers of buffalo chicken spread. Dan's wrinkled face was puffy and his eyes looked like two thin slits. He walked carefully so he wouldn't trip over his own feet. Dan always wore shoes three sizes too large because he couldn't stand the thought of his toes touching the tips of his shoes. The old man rounded the counter and leaned forward with his fingers pressed to his lips. His eyebrows went up when he saw that Chance was charging more than twenty dollars a pound for his spread. Each small quarter-pound container was marked between five and six dollars each. He looked at Chance and frowned. “You. What's this? Who'sa gonna pay that money for chicken? Che cazzo."