Tom continued to lick and suck Matt's dick, sometimes lifting it out of the way and taking the man's hair-covered balls into his mouth, first one at a time then both at once, their size accentuated by the leather cock-ring wrapped tightly around them.
After several minutes of this Matt pulled back. "Not gonna get away with short changing me by makin' me cum. It's that fine ass of yours I want. Now get up, get naked and kneel on the bed."
Again Tom did as he was told. On his knees on the bed he heard Matt's clothes fall to the floor and felt Matt step up behind him. The cop spread Tom's ass cheeks and ran his hand up and down the crack. Tom took a deep breath and let the feelings of raw sex further take control...pushing Alan farther into the recesses of his mind. Matt stopped at Tom's hole and gently fingered the puckered orifice.
"Yeah, that's nice and tight, boy. Gonna feel so good to be jammed up in there."
Matt then bent over and Tom felt the man's tongue begin to lick and probe the opening.
"God, Matt, that's good," he breathed. "Lick that hole." "That's Officer Matt to you, fucker," the cop said without taking his face away from its target.
Tom felt the man's tongue loosening and wetting the pucker. He braced himself. He knew it would hurt. The man was huge, but he needed to be fucked, needed to have his mind blown with sex to drive away the ridiculous notion that there was more to man-to-man relationships than this. He'd learned that the hard way with Connor and wasn't going to make that mistake again.
Matt stuck a finger into Tom's hole, rolled it around and jabbed it against his sweet spot. Little lights danced before Tom's eyes, waves of electricity tingled the tip of his rock-hard cock. Two fingers were in, then three. Tom felt his asshole stretch and yield to the invasion. He started to beg for the real thing to be rammed into his chute, to feel the hard man-tool invade his body.
"Fuck me, Goddamnit, fuck me!" Tom yelled.
"Oh, you want it, you little fuck bitch," Matt teased. "How bad? Tell the big bad policeman how bad you want his man-club up your fuckin' ass."
"Please, Officer Wilson. Fuck me. I need to be fucked. I need you to shoot your load into my ass," Tom pleaded.
Matt placed the tip of his cock against Tom's hole. He pressed. Tom's flesh surrendered. The thick cock slid inside until Tom felt the man's dense pubic hair against his ass cheeks. Matt wasted no time letting Tom adjust to the pain he was experiencing. Matt started pounding his ass, holding Tom's hips and pistoning his dick into the recesses of the man's body. Tom felt his prostate being pummeled by the end of the huge tool.
Every contact brought waves of both pain and pleasure, driving all rational thought from Tom's mind. Matt reached around, took Tom's stiff dick in his hand and pumped in unison with his thrusts.
In minutes, Tom shot his load onto the bed covers, quickly followed by a roar from Matt. Tom felt the man's cock throb inside him and knew he was being flooded by his man-seed.
Matt collapsed on top of Tom, flattening him on the bed. "Fuck, that was good, boy. Real good," the cop panted. Tom could feel the man's heart pounding against his back. For about a half hour they remained on Tom's bed, Matt on his back, his hands folded behind his head. Tom was next to Matt, laying on his stomach, his ass tingling. He fondled the older man's ample balls as he basked in the afterglow of great sex. He had to admit, while primarily a fucker, when it came to a guy like Matt Wilson, he could become a boy-toy without too much coaxing. The feel of the man's thick steel rod stretching his hole had an appeal that Tom didn't often give in to. Alan was far from his mind.
"When you gonna give up this charade and admit you're queer?" Tom asked.
"Ain't no charade. I ain't no queer. Queers do a lot of kissin' and huggin' and shit like that," Matt replied. "You didn't see us doing any a that crap did ya? No you didn't, right?"
Tom had a momentary flashback to Alan and the kisses they had shared. He brushed it aside.
"Besides," the cop went on, "did you notice you're the one did all the suckin' and I was the one doin' all the fuckin'? Queers suck and get fucked."
"If you aren't queer, then why do you do it with guys?" "Men know how to please another man. Women are too timid. Sure I like a good pussy fuck, and a nice set a tits and firm female ass turns me on, but when it comes down to the nitty- gritty, a man's mouth and tight asshole will win out every time. Besides, men don't expect that just cuz you fuck 'em you want to marry 'em."
Matt's words brought thoughts of Alan back into Tom's mind. Matt was wrong. There were guys for whom sex was an invitation to intimacy and long-term commitment. Tom realized Matt was still talking, so he fought to push away these thoughts.
"...Yeah, there was this one kid. Picked him up on Friday. He was a cutie, and innocent, too. Whew! I hardly knew what to do. I felt kinda sorry for him. At first I was gonna do him. I almost gave him the old give me a 'piece a your ass and I'll tear up this citation'. "
"You're all heart, Officer Wilson," Tom said sarcastically. The cop continued. "The case is pretty weak cuz he really didn't do anything. But he was so scared I probably could a tried the 'fuck me or else' with him. He was so naïve he woulda given in easy. He wouldn't have a clue that I had nothing on him. But I did my duty and wrote him up. He's gonna be tried tomorrow."
Tom had a sudden thought. He let go of Matt's balls and turned over on his back. Was Matt talking about Alan? He wanted to ask but didn't want to know. If it was Alan, then he was still coming to Delph, still looking for Tom. Alan had not only left the note on Wednesday but had come back on Friday. Suddenly his confusion was back. Thoughts of Alan and the sex they had shared, sex that had feeling beyond the physical act, vied with the raw meaningless sex he'd just had with Matt.
Matt was continuing. "...I may just throw the case and let the kid get off. Then maybe I can find him the next time he comes to Delph, and he'll be so grateful I let him off that he'll..."
Tom wasn't listening any more. He was thinking. Thinking of a way to get to Alan again, to tell him...tell him what? He wasn't sure. He just knew he had to at least see him again.
Matt stretched and got out of bed. He stood naked, looking down at Tom. "Thanks for the fuck. I'll be goin' now." He turned and walked to the pile of clothes they had discarded earlier and started to dress.
Tom rolled onto his side and propped his head on his bent arm. "You gonna be patrolling at the park again?" he said trying to veil his concern.
"Nope," the cop replied. "Picked up about a half dozen there last week. The word'll get out and the action'll cool down a bit. But I'll be back after you faggots get your balls back and think the place is safe. Then the fun'll start all over again." He laughed.
Relieved to hear the park would be safe for a time and that Alan, should he return to there, would be safe as well, Tom got up and put on his briefs. Matt walked over and grabbed him in a head lock. "Keep outta trouble. You got yourself a free pass from me cuz you're such a good piece a ass. With the other guys I won't be so generous."
"Thanks," Tom managed to say, his mouth pressed to Matt's belt.
Matt let him go, squeezed Tom's nuts, walked to the door, saluted him and left.
With the exit of the policeman, Tom's mind went into high gear. If Alan was still interested, maybe he'd come back to Delph again. If Tom left a message then maybe he'd be able to see Alan once more. Tom had to sort this out, to find out if he was ready to go beyond physical gratification and once more dare to...he closed his eyes and forced himself to think the word...love.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, after jogging to the park, Tom was in the john writing under Alan's message.
Yes! Come to my place. Home every night this week.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, T. just to make sure Alan knew it was really him.
Chapter 10: Tension
When Monday finally arrived, Alan was totally exhausted. He called in sick at the office and drove nervously to the address Officer Wilson had given him. He was fifteen minutes early
. He was taken to a room by a gruff looking desk sergeant where four other men were already seated. Alan nodded to them as he went in and sat down. Another man arrived shortly after he did. He thought it might be the man who had driven into the park just as Alan was leaving on the day of his arrest, but he wasn't sure. All the men seemed to reflect his mood: fear and dejection.
After a while, one by one, the men were taken into another room where they were fingerprinted and a Polaroid photo was taken. Then they were loaded into a station wagon. Alan sat in the back seat facing the rear window. He was handcuffed to another man. If he hadn't been so humiliated and frightened by the experience, he would have taken more notice of his handsome partner in crime. They didn't speak to one another, however.
They were driven to the courthouse and marched into the courtroom where the cuffs were removed. They sat in the jury box. One by one they were called before the judge. Alan, it seemed, would be the last to be called. That relieved him somewhat. Now he could observe the process and get some idea of how he would respond when it was his turn to stand before the court. As each man's charges were read, the judge questioned them as to the nature of the behaviors which had led to their arrest. He then asked them for a plea. In the first four cases it was obvious to Alan there was just cause. The first two men were caught performing oral sex on each other on one of the picnic tables adjacent to the park's parking lot. The third had propositioned the arresting officer in the bathroom. The guy who Alan thought had driven in as he left the park had cruised the cop and when the officer had followed him into the woods, the guy had taken out his cock and had masturbated in front of him. In each case the men were sentenced to a fine and a short jail term.
Alan watched the court stenographer, a young, thin girl with wispy hair, as she made a record of the proceedings. He wondered what she thought as defendant after defendant described the actions for which he had been arrested. She gave no clue as to her reaction to the lurid details.
Defendant number five's turn came and again the judge listened to the man's testimony.
When the man pleaded guilty, the judge said, "I don't believe I should let you do that."
Alan sat up and paid closer attention.
The man said, "Please, Your Honor, I'm a married man. I just want this to be over. If I plead not guilty and go to trial, my wife and family will find out. I can't let that happen."
The judge relented and the guy received a fine of three hundred dollars plus nine months probation.
Alan thought about this. Was there a chance for him? Alan was called to stand before the court. The judge asked him what had transpired, so Alan told his story. "Detective Wilson, is what the defendant is telling the court accurate?"
"Yes, pretty much, your Honor."
"And Mr. Daniels never solicited you for sex?" "No."
"Never exposed himself?" "No, your Honor."
"He never touched you?" "No."
"So, as far as you know, he was eating his lunch and followed you into the woods?"
"Well, Your Honor, I invited him to take a walk with me and he did. So, he clearly intended to solicit sex from me."
"Is that true, Mr. Daniels? Did Officer Wilson invite you to walk with him and were you intending to have sex with him?"
Alan thought quickly. He knew if the cop had been a guy looking for sex, Alan would have done something. But he also realized there might be a way out of this. So he lied. "No, sir. I just changed my mind about going back to work and decided to take a walk in the woods as Officer Wilson suggested."
Alan looked at the policeman for the first time since standing before the judge. He couldn't read the expression on the cop's face, but had the feeling there was something behind the man's admission that he had invited Alan to walk with him.
"I see. Well, according to the definition of open and gross, lewd and lascivious behavior, I can't see where Mr. Daniels has done anything wrong. I see that you have never been arrested before," the judge said, addressing Alan once more. "In fact you have never even had a parking ticket." Under his breath the judge added, "Which is more than I can say for myself." Addressing the stenographer, he whispered, "Sandy, that last comment is off the record."
The girl nodded without looking up from her machine. "Officer Wilson, since you had no way of knowing what Mr. Daniels had in mind when he went into the woods with you, and, based on your own testimony, the invitation came from you, I have no choice but to dismiss the charges." The judge rapped his gavel. "Case dismissed! And Officer Wilson? May I suggest that in the future you not try to manufacture charges and let the real sexual criminals reveal themselves by actually initiating and engaging in behaviors that fit the statutes of the law. Your invitation to have Mr. Daniels walk with you makes this a clear case of entrapment. Mr. Daniels would be within his rights to sue for false arrest."
"Yes, your Honor," Officer Wilson said with a touch of something in his voice that Alan couldn't quite understand.
He turned and looked at Alan, a slight smile playing on his lips. It almost seemed as if the man was satisfied with the judge's verdict.
"Mr. Daniels?"
"Yes, your Honor?" Alan replied, not daring to believe his good fortune.
"You are free to go. But I suggest that in the future you might choose a more suitable spot in which to spend your lunch hour."
"Yes, I will. Thank you," Alan said, relief sweeping through him.
Alan turned to leave. As he passed Officer Wilson, their eyes met. A look passed between them that to Alan seemed to say, 'I'll get you next time.'
As far as Alan was concerned there wouldn't be a next time. He'd dodged a bullet. What he would do in the future regarding his newly admitted attraction to men, he didn't know. But one thing was for sure, there would be no more graffiti in his life.
He left the courthouse, took a taxi back to his car and left.
* * * *
Alan slowly drove home. He was in no hurry to face his parents. Yes, things had gone well in court, miraculously in fact. He had gotten off without any fine or jail time and, best of all, there would be no record of the incident to threaten his job. But he knew he would have to give an account to his folks and he wasn't feeling up to that. However, he breathed a sigh of relief as he drove down Garden Parkway away from the processing center. The ordeal was over. He passed the street that Tom's apartment was on. Alan was tempted to pay Tom a visit. He felt he needed someone to talk to about what had happened, someone who would understand, but changed his mind when he remembered how they had parted. Passing the entrance to Delph Park, he looked away and reaffirmed his determination never to go there again. He wasn't sure what he would do about his sexual needs, but right now the celibate life of a monk seemed more to his liking.
Alan pulled into the driveway at home. There was a car parked there he didn't recognize. Warily he got out of his Mustang.
When Alan came into the kitchen his heart sank. His mother was sitting at the table with the pastor of the church she occasionally attended. He and his dad had gone with her once and had concluded the place was worse than a loony bin: lots of shouting 'Hallelujah!' 'Praise the Lord!' and people falling down on their knees, weeping.
What's he doing here? Alan thought, although he had a pretty strong suspicion it had something to do with him.
"Alan, dear," his mother said, rising from her seat, "you remember Reverend Blakely?"
The reverend also rose, came around the table and extended a hand to Alan.
Alan took the proffered hand without saying a word. There was an awkward silence.
"Um..." Alan's mother stammered. "I thought you might like to talk with the reverend about your little problem."
Alan stared at her. Then he looked at the reverend, who was regarding him with a sympathetic expression, the kind portrayed in movies when a man of the cloth is visiting the bereaved or the terminally ill.
"I don't have a problem," Alan said, feeling he had been ambushed.
"Now, son," Reverend B
lakely intoned solemnly. "Denial...well, denial only makes it harder to expel the demons. Gives them reason to believe they are welcome."
"What?"
"Don't worry. The exorcism is usually quite uneventful...unless the demon resists that is. If you just repent of your sins and truly desire to be set free, they usually depart without making a fuss. However, if you deny there is a problem or have a desire to cling to this...perversion...well, it can get pretty messy. If you'll sit here, your mother and I will lay hands on you. You can renounce Satan and all his ways and I will command the vile creature that dwells within you to depar---"
"There isn't any vile creature in me. I'm not possessed!" Alan exclaimed loudly, feeling as trapped by this charade as much as when he was arrested in the park.
"Sister Martha," the minister said gravely. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought. The demon has clearly bewitched him so that he cannot see his sin." Alan's mother gave a little gasp of horror.
At this point Alan's father opened the door from the driveway.
"George?" Martha said in surprise. "I didn't expect you home this early." She looked nervously at the pastor.
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked, giving the pastor a wary look.
"Ah, Mr. Daniels," Pastor Blakely intoned. "Your good wife has invited me here to see to the spiritual needs of your son who has fallen into the trap of homo---"
"Cut the gibberish, Reverend. Just tell me what's going on?" "An exorcism," Alan said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"A what?" his dad exclaimed, turning and looking at his wife. "An exorcism," Pastor Blakely said. "You see, your son is possessed of an unclean---"
"George, dear," Martha began. "I called the pastor and explained what had happened to Alan and he rushed right over..."
"Nothing happened to me, Ma. The charges were dismissed. The judge called it a case of entrapment."
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