Date: Fri, 3 Dec 2004 21:15:05 -0800 (PST)
From: Master Terra D <masterterradil@yahoo.com>
Subject: Officer Sven, Chapter 1

Sven Brovskan stopped lesbians in their tracks.
Yes, he was THAT good looking.
Sven was of that Nordic heritage of the blonde haired,
blue eye "god" category. 6'4", 220 pounds of muscle,
smooth body that looked like he spent hours in the gym
each day.
Well, Sven did.
His 8-pack abs rippled down into his crotch which
housed an 8.5-inch cut fuck stick.
Sven wasn't from Norway.
He was from Kansas, now living in my state, and
working as a policeman.
Sven was also a former Marine.
I guessed his age around 45 even though a female
friend of mine insisted he couldn't be a day over 30;
but I knew better.
I had it on good authority from another straight
friend that Sven frequented the "Cop Shop" which I
knew had to be a straight bar. No self-respecting gay
man, hell even a degraded gay man would not name a bar
the Cop Shop, and I'd only met one gay man who did.
Except he didn't know he was gay at the time.
That married boy told me he fantasized about Sven,
watching him shower in the precinct locker room.
Now, I'll be honest. If it has a dick and isn't a
woman, I'm turned on by it.
But Sven wasn't my type.
My married boy tried to take me to the Cop Shop, but I
couldn't stomach the idea of stepping inside, so we
sat in my truck, and the married boy pointed Sven out
to me.
Sven still sported his Marine buzz cut, was built like
the non-existent brick shit house, and the married boy
told me Sven usually took a bar fly home if he wanted,
which was pretty much any and every night.
I could tell from tonight's choice of bar flies that
Sven was into trashy women.
The vagina clinging to his big guns made a whore look
like a British Queen.
Sven wasn't my type at all. I'm not really into
blondes, smooth men or men so straight that if they
were a woman, another lesbian wouldn't be interested.
"No," I told my married boy. "Not interested."
"Can't take him?" MB mouthed off.
I smacked his nuts so hard, he curled into a fetal
position on the truck floor.
"Mouth off like that again and I'll send you home to
your wife, shaved head to toe, boy." I didn't bark it
out or yell. I just said it with a steady voice that
let him know it'd happen and he didn't have any
choice.
I backed my truck away from Nordic thing and left.

Now, several of my friends were getting wind of Sven.
Although none of them would set foot in the Cop Shop,
I heard at least 4 gaymobiles were spotted there
Friday night.
I also heard the vagina on his right, muscled arm made
a crack whore look like a grand dame.
One of my friends even said he'd consider getting
fucked by Sven.
"You must be kidding! Have some dignity!"
So, Saturday morning after hearing all this stuff, I
was a little pissed when the phone rang at 9 a.m.
I let the machine get it. On Saturday mornings,
anything before noon is way too early.
I heard a very unfamiliar voice asking if I was the
guy in the truck who had been scoping him out Tuesday
night, and if I was, give him a call.
He even left a number, which I recognized by the
prefix to be a local number, not an untraceable cell
phone.
Had he mentally noted my license plate and run it?
And why the hell would he call me anyway?
I grabbed my phone and decided to end this.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Hello, you called back. I'm Sven."
"Must have caller I.D." I thought.
"Yeah, I've been told. Yes, I was `scoping you out' to
use your terms, but I'm not interested," I said.
"Hey, neither am I, faggot," he sneared.
"Then why did you call, officer?"
I wasn't sure why there was silence.
Maybe he realized that he DID call, or maybe he was
taken off guard with me knowing he was an officer.
"Um, cause since Tuesday night, I've been
propositioned by 5 fags, and since you were the first
one I spotted, I figured you started this," he tried
to sound macho, like that really was the reason he
called.
"Officer, I don't care why you called. I also don't
control who frequents parking lots. Actually, I think
police officers take care of that," I retorted.
More silence.
I was bored with this.
"Anything else, officer?"
"Why were you looking at me?"
Wow, he did find a legitimate question.
"A friend wanted me to look at you and give my
assessment."
A small pause.
"And?" Oh, great, he wants his fucking straight ego
fed by a gay man.
"Not interested." It was 2 words, but I tired to say
them in a way that showed not only was I not
interested, I also didn't care.
"Everyone's interested in me, buddy," he smirked. "You
just don't want to admit it."
Oh, brother! Straight man pick up lines!
"Listen, Sven, I'm not those loose pussies you take to
yer house and pound a few seconds, then throw out on
the porch. I'm not interested."
"HEY! I do virgins!"
"So do I, except, mine are actual virgins, `buddy',"
he growled.
There's only one thing worse than a dumb, ex-military
policeman, and that's a redneck. I was about 2 minutes
away from wishing for a redneck.
"Ever do 3 women at once?" he bragged.
This guy was unbelievable. He was playing a game of
sexual one-upsmanship with the man who has the worlds
best "first timer" story. It's so good, I've actually
won free meals and other stuff from men who think they
can top me...and the story.
"No, Sven, ya got me there. I've NEVER done 3 women at
once," I conceded. "I'm gay, remember? I've done 6 men
at once."
"Yeah, right," he said, obviously not believing me.
"I have 2 feet," I replied.
"Shit," I heard a whispered compliment as he figured
out the configuration.
"Are you done with the testosterone?" I sighed.
"But you're interested in me," he said, fishing for a
compliment.
"No. Don't get me wrong, you have a nice body and yer
nice to look at, but yer not my type, starting with
you have no standards for sexual partners and...OH,
YEAH, yer straight."
"You're interested," he stated.
I hung up.
And I thought diamonds were dense.
I looked down at the foot of the bed to the boy
sleeping there.
I was in a mood last night.
Now, I'm not a gay man's stereotypical dream. I'm the
shade of white that is untanned, shorter than men like
at 5'9", with a slight carbo gut, and a face that's
somewhere between cute and handsome. I'm 37, and don't
care.
I cruised the college campus. Men who know me know I
must have been in a mood to do that. I'm not really
into college men, either.
I don't really get into boys who run at the sight of a
leather jock strap. I rarely find a college boy that
isn't skiddish, and I wasn't expecting to find one
last night.
I was in a mood and thought I'd just scope out the eye
candy.
I spotted a few soccer players, a tall basketball
player, a really cute baseball player and a whole
group of wrestlers.
Then I spotted some non-athletes. Skinny guys, fat
guys, lanky, stout, some attractive, some not. I
wasn't planning to pick any up, so I kept driving.
Then I spotted Marcus.
Football, defensive line.
Yes, I am psychic.
Marcus had dark brown hair, a beefy build at about
6-foot tall, a strikingly handsome face, and clothes
that were just a bit too small for him, but showed off
his build.
He was sitting on the steps outside his dorm, in
T-shirt and shorts, looking like he was pouting.
I pulled over to offer a sympathetic ear.
"Anything wrong, college man?"
Marcus looked up at me and said, "My girlfriend stood
me up. I haven't had sex for a whole month and I'm
horny."
He stuck his crotch out and showed his boner to prove
his point.
"I don't think I can help you with that unless yer
willin' to have sex with a man," I said, ready to
press on the gas pedal.
"Yer shittin' me," he started laughing.
"Nope, and I won't shit on you either. I'm not into
that."
The tone in my voice told him I was serious and he
stopped laughing.
He looked around and up at the few windows that could
see the steps.
He got in the truck.
I was on the money about his sports activities, and he
was also a wrestler.
He was beefy and had a hot, hairy chest, and hairy
ass, legs, arms, the works.
His hair wasn't coarse and rough; it was like fur.
On the trip back to my house, he talked about his
girlfriend, and her holding out on him, his
experimenting with guys in high school (circle
jerks...ooooo, what an experiment).
I'm not stupid. He's a jock. A college jock. He's
trying to push himself off on me as having a virgin
ass.
I turn off the truck and look him right in the eye.
"Marcus, I'm not a girl. I could not care less if yer
ass is virgin or fucked a thousand times. Last chance
to back out, boy."
"I've been fucked once," he swallowed his statement.
I've been accused by some men of being too upfront
with my comments about sex and what I want. But I've
found it avoids confusion when I'm trying to get up
the ass of another top man.
Marcus followed me into my house.
It's a rather modest looking house from the outside.
But I don't need an attractive house, outside.
Inside, it's all decorated by me.
"Do you have a dungeon?" Marcus asked me as he stepped
in the front door.
I ignored the question, for the moment.
"Strip," I commanded.
On the trip here, Marcus talked about his girlfriend,
and I talked about some of what we'd be doing.
Once naked, I said, "Follow me", and like an obedient
puppy, Marcus did.
Marcus has a distinctive drawl in his deep, bass
voice.
I'm a sucker for a hairy man with a deep voice.
So when I dropped to my knees and wrapped my lips
around Marcus' 5-inch pecker, I could hear the
surprise on his face.
I felt furry thighs on each side of my face as I deep
throated the football cock.
Obviously, Marcus' girlfriend wasn't scared of his
size.
Make no mistake, I'm not a size queen. Big or small,
I'll suck them all. Just 2 requirements: they're clean
and they're clean.
When I sensed Marcus was close, I pulled off, and
stepped behind him, gently but obviously pushing him
to his knees.
My crotch and cock were right behind his head, and in
front of him, the naked man could see his reflection
in a large mirror.
"How many cocks have you sucked, Marcus?" I asked.
"None, sir," he said, looking in the mirror to see me
pulling my 6.5 cut thick throbber from my jeans.
I looked down.
"You've been fucked once, but never sucked cock?"
"Right, sir. My cousin Aldo got drunk in high school
and we were messin' around in the barn. He said he'd
suck me off if I'd let him fuck me. I was drunk, too,
so I didn't really think about it, but that a blow job
was supposed to feel good."
"And?"
"And that's why I've only been fucked once. Hurt like
hell. All he did was spit on his dick, then jammed it
in. I walked a little odd for a couple of days. But
Aldo did blow me good."
Precum ran down his cheek where my leaking prick
rested against his head.
He licked his lips, accidentally tasting my man
nectar.
He swished it around in his mouth like wine.
"Oh, FUCK, that's awesome!" and he turned his head to
take my prick in his mouth.
I put a palm on his forehead and held his jock mouth
at bay but let his tongue snake toward my stiff
pisser.
"Please, sir, let me suck it," he begged.
I chuckled to myself.
Here was a big, beefy college football jock who could
easily force that hand off his head, but was instead
beggin' for his first cock down his throat.
"You asked about a dungeon earlier, boy?" I reminded
him.
"Yes, sir," he said, his tongue still shooting out,
trying to get another sampling of dick juice.
"Ever been tied up, boy?" I asked.
"No, sir, but if you let me suck yer cock, you can tie
me up."
"And, boy?"
"And anything else you want, sir. Please let me have
more, please?"
He looked like a begging puppy, a very macho, manly
puppy, but a puppy.
"Good dog," I said, removing my hand from his
forehead. I don't think he heard it as he gobbled down
my pecker.
"No teeth," I said, reaching on top of the chest of
drawers for a collar, which I slipped around his neck
as he sucked me. He offered no resistance, but would
bob his head up and down on my dick to get some more
precum out, then come up to the top and suckle precum
from my cock. This boy must know something about wine
because he's treating my cock like there's a cork in
it and his mouth's suction is the corkscrew.
By the time Marcus was on the bed, I'd slipped leather
restraints around his wrists and ankles.
I had Marcus on all 4s and his wrists padlocked to my
iron frame bed before I pulled my cock from his
hoover-mouth.
"Welcome to my dungeon, Marcus," I grinned.
I moved to his backside, where I looked at his hot,
hairy ass, to mounds covered by soft fur which
thickened as it grew toward this college boy's pucker.
"So yer fuckin' cousin gave you a rough fuck, huh?"
"Yes, sir," he purred as I petted that furry ass,
grazing my fingers over his pucker.
I spread the furry butt cheeks and saw what I liked.
The boy must have washed after a game. His hole was
clean and flexing, as if begging to be filled.
I leaned in and lapped the tip of my tongue over his
college shitter.
"Oh, fuck!"
"Don't cum, boy," I commanded.
"You do that again, and I won't have a choice, sir. Oh
fuck, that was intense."
I reached into my nightstand for my leather straps.
Marcus' hairy nuts hung right before me, and they were
drawn up into the stud, so I popped them down and tied
them back from his body; that would keep his cum
somewhat under control, and at least long enough for
me to have my fun.
I lapped at his hole against, and felt his hips thrust
obscenely in the air, as if his dick was begging for
the friction of another hole.
Marcus alternated between moans and purrs as I ate his
hairy ass, diving my tongue deep in his steamy slit as
a skilled hand milked his college cock.
After a few minutes, Marcus was pushing his ass back
on my face and I inserted the middle right finger in
his hole, lubed with my spit. I continued to drool on
the digit, substituting the finger for my tongue and
leaning back to watch this macho boy fuck himself on
my finger. I don't think he noticed when I added a
second.
I pulled the fingers out to their tips and Marcus
backed up until his restraints were maxed out for
distance and my fingers were lightly grazing his boy
hole.
"Please, sir, put that finger back in," he whined.
"That was 2 fingers, boy."
"Put them back in, please. Oh, God, I need those in my
ass. I feel empty. Please." I heard near sobbing.
I'd been lubing my cock during the finger fuck, and so
when I mounted the boy, it slipped in as I reached
under the boy's chest and pinched each tit with my
hands.
The mirror on the head board let me see his eyes pop
from his head.
"OH
"FUCK!"
I shoved all the way in and let it rest there while he
physically and mentally adjusted.
His nipples were rock hard and after a bit, I felt his
ass push back on my cock, trying to get more cock
deeper.
I rode Marcus for at least 15 minutes, listening to
him beg for more, harder, deeper and rougher.
When I was ready to cum, I pulled out and flipped
Marcus on his back.
I hosed his beefy, hairy bod down, foreheard to
crotch.
He flicked his tongue out to catch a ropey strand as
it flew across his face, like the lash of a semen
whip.
I reached for a butt plug and shoved it up the boy's
hole, then started massaging the cum into his hair and
skin as I let him suckle the juices from my dick.
His own pecker stood rock hard and I let it remain
that way.
"More, please, sir," he sighed.
"Time for bed, boy. You can curl up on the end of the
bed and suck my feet during the night."
"Thank you, sir."
So that was the scene as I woke up the next morning to
verbally spar with Officer Sven.
I'd hung up about 45 minutes earlier when the door
bell rang.
Guess who was there?


Now, that's obviously to be continued.
As always, I appreciate comments and feedback.
I'm always looking for boys.
Master Terra D -- masterterradil@yahoo.com