Date: Sat, 28 Dec 2002 13:15:50 +1100
From: Phil Eden <eden_phil@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Cop who wanted me

By Hornblower

He was an impressive sight-six foot two of uniformed arrogance with his
leather jacket open to the waist revealing a starched blue shirt stretched
across a broad chest and rippled stomach, and tight blue motorcycle trousers
hugging his muscular thighs.  I reckoned he was about 24, but he could have
been younger. Whatever his age, he was definitely all man.

He was studying the traffic in the main street, eyes watchful behind dark
glasses, standing with his legs astride and his arms folded in front of him.
He looked bloody good, and he knew it.

I run a backpackers' hostel in the old lighthouse keepers' cottage at
Rawson's Promontory about thirty kilometres out of town near the South
Australian border. The guys on highway patrol often drop by for a coffee
when they're passing so I know most of the local cops, but this one was new
in town.

I nodded to him as I walked past but he made no response and it was
impossible to tell if he had noticed me. He sure as hell was a hot looking
guy-an Adonis in uniform, and I couldn't get the picture of him out of my
mind as I headed my old Ford utility onto the highway for the long drive
home.

I was about ten kilometres down the highway when I realised that he was
following me. The white highway patrol bike was instantly recognisable in
the rear mirror and instinctively I checked my speed, though I was
comfortably within the limit. He stayed behind me for about five kilometres,
making no attempt to close the distance between us, and I continued to drive
warily with one eye on the speedometer. The road crosses the railway at a
little place called Warrambul and I slowed, touching the brakes, to check
there were no trains coming before accelerating across the tracks. As I did
so I saw the red and blue lamps on his bike start to flash and heard the
wail of the siren. Within moments he was alongside the ute, waving me over
to the side of the road.

He parked the bike in front of me, taking his time.  As he removed his
helmet long strands of straight blond hair fell forward across his forehead
and he flicked them back into place with the arrogance of a stallion shaking
its mane.  He walked slowly towards me, and I wondered what I had done to
cause him to pull me over.

I wound down the window as he approached. He bent forward so that his face
was level with mine. Close to he was even more handsome than I had thought
with smooth, nicely tanned skin and high cheekbones. His eyes were a light
blue and he had full, rather sensuous lips.

"Good afternoon, Sir."

"Good afternoon, Officer."

"May I see your driver's licence?" He was impeccably polite.

I removed the licence from my wallet and handed it to him. He took it from
me and then stood close up against my open window while he straightened to
read it. His crotch was now level with my face, and I was treated to a
magnificent view of his huge genitals just inches away, so clearly defined
that I was certain he couldn't be wearing anything beneath the tight
stretched fabric of his trousers.

All too quickly he bent down again bringing his face back level with mine,
still holding my licence.

"Thank you, Sir. Are you aware that your nearside brake light isn't
working?"

"Isn't it? I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"You should get it fixed."

"I will," I promised. "It's going in for a service next week. I'll get it
done then."

"Good, in that case I needn't take matters any further."  He handed me back
the licence and as he did so it sounded as if he added, "and I want to fuck
you."

I was so flustered the licence slipped out of my hand and fell at his feet.
Had he really said what I thought he had?

"Did you say...?" I let the words trail off. I must have been mistaken.

"I said I won't forget you, Sir. You have been most co-operative." He
reached down and picked up the licence.

"A nice spot, Rawson's Promontory," he said glancing at my address as he
handed it to me, though I had a feeling that he had already noted it.

"Yes," I said. "Feel free to drop in for coffee. Your colleagues do
sometimes when they're on patrol down my way."

I'm usually pretty busy in summer because the hostel is near the beginning
of a hiking track and I get a lot of bushwalkers come through, but it's
different in the off-season when there aren't so many tourists around, and
it's good to have someone to chat with

"Not for me, thank you all the same. Not coffee. It's bad for you."

"Well, maybe something else."

He raised one blond eyebrow, and allowed himself the slightest of smiles.

"Yes," he said. "Maybe something else."

I watched as he walked back to the bike, my eyes fixed on the movement of
his muscular buttocks, splendid in the tight, constraining blue fabric of
his uniform trousers. Had he really said he wanted to fuck me? My cock was
hard at the thought of it and it stayed that way until I got home.

I found it difficult to get him out of my mind after that. I made a couple
of trips to the supermarket in town and looked out hopefully in the main
street but there was no sign of him and each time I returned home
disappointed. I kept thinking of what he had said, trying to decide if I had
misheard him. At thirty I'm still in good shape and my pretty boy looks
haven't yet deserted me, but why would he want to fuck me when probably he
had every bitch in town lusting for him? He was a strapping, fair-haired
macho cop and he looked very, very straight, but I make no secret about
being gay and sometimes that's a turn-on for the so-called straight boys.
They say it pays to advertise, and if he did want to fuck me he wouldn't be
the first supposedly straight guy I'd had slip it in the back way when his
mates weren't around to know about it.

I began to fantasise about him pulling me over to the side of the road. He
would make me get out so that he could strip search me then when I was naked
and defenceless he would whisper that he wanted to fuck me and he would
force me over the saddle of his police motorbike and shove his enormous cock
into me. That got me hard thinking about it, I can tell you, and he had me
jacking off two or three times a day.

It was about a month later that a storm closed the main highway down past
the Promontory. The black clouds began rolling in around four o'clock and
within an hour the full brunt of it hit, first the lightning strikes so
close that there was barely a second's grace before the deafening
thunderclaps that followed, and then the sheeting rain driven by a wind that
came howling in from the ocean like a thousand wailing banshees. During the
height of the storm the power went off and I lit candles. I've got an old
wood stove in the kitchen which meant that at least I would be able to cook
a meal, and thankfully it was late in the season so there were no guests
staying.

About seven o'clock I thought I heard a motorbike and then, after a minute
or two, what sounded like the roller door of my garage being opened and
closed but it was difficult to be sure over the noise of the storm. A loud
rap at the door let me know that I had a visitor. I took a torch and went to
see who it was.

My motorcycle policeman was standing on the veranda dripping water, his
drenched uniform clinging to him in the most interesting places.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "I've put the bike in your garage out of
the storm."

"Of course not," I said. "Come in."

He followed me into the house.

"We had better get you out of those wet things."

I showed him the bathroom and went to get some more candles. By the time I
returned he had stripped down to the briefest of G-strings. His leather
jacket, gun holster and belt were hanging from the coat hook behind the door
and the rest of his uniform was in a damp pile on the floor. He was an
awesome sight as the candlelight played on his sculpted body and I could see
that his cock, clearly outlined in the bulging wet G-string, was every bit
as huge as I had thought it was when he had stood up close against the
window of my ute the first time I met him.

"Well," he said. "We meet again."

"You remembered me then," I said rather lamely.

"Of course. Didn't I say that I wouldn't forget you?" He smirked. "Or did
you think I said that I wanted to fuck you?"

"Well, yes..."

"And I suppose you've been thinking about me ever since?" As he spoke, he
rubbed his hand across his cock, causing it to stir beneath the thin fabric.
"I bet you've been thinking about me thrusting my big cock right up you."

"Well..."

"Of course you have. I bet you've been having wet dreams about me ever since
I said I wanted to fuck you. Most gay guys want me to fuck them. "

God, he was arrogant, but he was also fucking gorgeous and right at that
moment I wanted him to arse fuck me more than anything I had ever wanted
before.

"I need a shower. Do you have hot water?"

I nodded. "Yes, the power's been off for a while but the tank will still be
hot. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you," he said. "It looks like I'm here for the night. There's a tree
across the road at Warrambul and it would be too dangerous to ride the bike
in this weather anyway. We'll just have to keep ourselves amused until the
storm clears." Again he ran his hand meaningfully over his cock, then
slipped the G-string down, letting it bounce free. It really was
huge-probably a good seven inches on the slack and thick around like a
salami.

He tossed the G-string on the pile with his damp uniform.

"You can put that lot through the dryer for me."

"There's no power," I reminded him. "I'll hang it by the kitchen stove."

"Do you like my body?" He was preening in the candlelight, flexing his big
pecs and biceps, then turning for me to admire his back and tight-clenched
buttocks. His thighs were huge, like massive hams, covered with curls of
wiry blond hair that grew more profusely towards his crotch and his ample
pubic bush, and his balls were heavy and low hung, in proportion with his
massive uncut rod.

I reached out a hand, running it admiringly down the smoothness of his broad
back and feeling the firmness of his buttocks.

"I'll let you give me a massage if you like. See if you've got some oil." It
was a command, and I resented slightly the way he was taking charge in my
own home but I went obediently to the cupboard where I keep a large bottle
of Johnson's baby oil with my other sex toys. He spotted a couple of butt
plugs and picked up the larger of them, which he handed to me.

"Put this in. You'll need to be well stretched when I fuck you--I'm very
big." Again, it was a command and again I obeyed, finding a tube of
lubricant to smear on the plug, a wicked-looking eight-incher with a
circumference to match. I slipped off my clothes and inserted it into my
hole.  The first part was easy enough but the last few inches or so were
deceptively wide and I wasn't relaxed enough. I started to pull it out again
but he grabbed my hand and held it there.

"It has to go right in," he said. I clenched my teeth as he forced the wide
part of the plug past my sphincter but once it was in it wasn't so bad and
as usual I began to enjoy the sensation of having it inside me.

"I'm going to have my shower now," he said. "You can get on with what you
were doing."

With the plug still in me I went back to the kitchen where I set up a drying
rack for his uniform next to the stove. The damp trousers had retained his
body odour and I buried my face in the crotch, revelling in his man smell. I
wanted to try them on, but I was afraid that he might come back and catch
me. Not that they would have fitted me. They were stretched to fit his huge
legs--just as I was being stretched to fit his huge cock.

I heard the shower water go off and a few minutes later he came wandering
into the kitchen, totally naked except for a bath towel draped across his
shoulders.

"That feels better," he said. "You get sweaty on the bike all day. With big
balls like mine it can be pretty uncomfortable. It's good to get the uniform
off and let them hang."

As far as I was concerned he looked pretty good in the uniform or out of it
and I was almost drooling at the naked display of his big, beefy body.

He went over to the refrigerator and helped himself to a carton of orange
juice.

"Do you mind?"

"No. There's a beer there if you would rather."

"No thanks. I don't touch alcohol."

"Do you mind if I have one?"

What effect was this man having on me that I was asking his permission to
drink a can of beer in my own home?

I took a can from the refrigerator and flipped the ring pull.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers."

He raised his carton of orange juice then came and stood close to me,
looking down into my face.

"You're going to be my whore tonight."

The words sent a tremor through me. He had been taking command from the
moment he walked in the door and now he had casually reduced me to the
status of his slut. I felt a tingling of anticipation in my lower abdomen
that I hadn't felt since I was a teenager new to the joys of sex. If this
hunk of a man wanted a whore, then I would be his whore and I would let him
to do to me whatever he wanted.

With one hand he grabbed my hair, forcing my head back, then kissed me hard
on the lips, forcing his tongue into my mouth. With his other hand he
grabbed my butt, massaging it roughly, and pulling me up close against him.

"How many men have fucked you, whore?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, quite a few. Who's counting?"

He brought his big hand down and smacked me hard on the buttocks.

"Wrong answer, whore. Try again. How many men have fucked you?"

"Shit, I don't know. Maybe a hundred."

He smacked me harder and it really hurt.

"Wrong."

"What do you want me to say?"

Another hard smack.

"How many?"

"I told you. Maybe a hundred, maybe more. I've fucked around a bit."

This time he delivered ten hard blows in quick succession.

"I'll tell you how many men have fucked you, whore."

He continued to smack me, the blows raining down hard and fast until my arse
was on fire.

"The answer is none. Zero. You've never been fucked by a man. Not a real
man. Tonight's going to be your first one."

He pushed me away from him contemptuously.

"Now go and get ready. You'll need towels on the bed for the massage and
plenty of lube for when I fuck you. And you'd better give yourself an
enema--I expect my whore to be clean."

Once everything was prepared to his satisfaction he lay face down on the
bed, head cradled on his folded arms, his magnificent body stretched out and
ready for my ministrations. I poured a liberal amount of baby oil onto his
back and starting with his shoulders, began a slow and sensuous massage.
From his shoulders I worked down his broad back then moved to his calves and
began to work my way back up his body towards his thighs. I could feel him
relax as my fingers worked the tension out of his muscles. Just to touch him
was exciting and my cock was rock hard.

Outside, the storm was still raging but inside, in the flickering light of
the candles, the scene was one of total sensuality as I continued to rub my
hands up and down his hairy thighs, working closer and closer to his
gorgeous butt. He moved his legs apart, opening up his crack to reveal his
hole and I responded by burying my face in it, rimming him frantically and
causing him to writhe beneath me. He was making small moans of pleasure as
my tongue probed into him while my hands continued to pummel the two firm
mounds of his arse. He was pushing down hard forcing open his sphincter,
sucking my tongue right into him so that I was licking deep inside him
seeking his sensitive prostate gland and sending tremors through his whole
body.

He began moaning more loudly, his big muscular body trembling
uncontrollably, and I knew that now he was mine. I was his whore and he had
dominated me in my own home, but his ultimate pleasure would be mine to
command.  He was mine to be led slowly through each mounting stage of
ecstasy until that moment of climax when I alone would permit his release.

I withdrew my tongue and for perhaps half an hour or more I worked the
inside of his thighs, playing with the twirls of wiry hair and working
slowly towards his massive balls finally touching them so delicately with
the tip of my tongue that, like the kiss of a butterfly, it was barely a
touch at all--yet sensuous enough to reduce him in an instant from a
domineering stud to a quivering jellyfish.

I rolled him over onto his back and he lay there passively, his massive cock
hard and throbbing with rampant desire. It was huge--at least nine or ten
inches long but with a thicker shaft than anything I had ever seen before.
As I said, I've been fucked by a hundred men, but this was truly awesome, a
genuine prince among cocks and well worthy of the magnificent body to which
it was attached. I ran my hand up and down its splendid length getting the
measure of it.

"Are you ready to fuck me?" I whispered and he grabbed at me eagerly but I
was teasing, and I pushed him away.

"Not yet," I said. "We've waited all these weeks. A little bit longer isn't
going to hurt."

Now I went to work on his nipples, running my tongue lightly around the
perimeter of each. They were big and brown against his broad chest, the
nipples firm and erect, and I teased them until he pleaded with me to stop.
I let my tongue work downwards to his navel and then on into his wondrous
pubic bush until at last I came to his pulsating cock. Starting at the base
I licked slowly up the shaft to the glans, tonguing the sensitive rim with
the merest of butterfly touches then working back down to his balls. I did
this a hundred times until the tensing of his body told me that he was
almost at the point of climax but I held him there, one hand on his massive
balls the other on his cock.

"I'm going to come!" he yelled but I pulled away from him, squeezing his
balls hard at the same time so that he screamed in agony.

"Not yet," I said. "You're not ready." I had brought him almost to the brink
but not quite, now I had to bring him down again until it was time.  I let
go of his balls and he relaxed slightly but I left my hand between his legs
to remind him that I was in control. He knew now that my hand could cause
him agony as easily as it could the ecstasy of a butterfly's touch.

I laid down against him, my face close to his, brushing my lips against his,
giving him a caressing kiss on the cheek, then bringing my mouth to his ear
I began to nibble the lobe. He grabbed me tightly, pulling me to him,
returning my kisses in a frenzy of passion. But even as my mouth caressed
him my hand held tightly to his balls, slowly increasing the pressure so
that his body tensed and he writhed and groaned in my embrace. He was
stronger than me and he could easily have stopped me, but I sensed that he
wanted it, that he was enjoying a new dimension to his lovemaking that he
hadn't experienced before. I squeezed harder and he brought our mouths
together, thrusting his tongue into me, grunting now with animal lust as
pain and pleasure merged and his body became a crucible of conflicting
emotions.

I pulled away from him.

"How many men have you fucked?" I whispered.

"A few."

I squeezed his balls harder.

"How many?"

"I don't know. I said a few. Quite a few, maybe."

Again I squeezed harder and he screamed, his body doubling up with pain. He
grabbed at my hand, trying to pull it away from his balls but I was
relentless. My grip was like a vice.

"How many real men?"

"NONE!"

"Who will be the first?"

"You will!"

I released the pressure on his balls. We were equals now.

"Let's fuck," I whispered and I moved into position on top and facing him,
knees either side of his hips, lowering my arse onto his cock, opening
myself up to take it inside of me. God it was huge but I've had giant cocks
up me before and it was just a matter of taking it slowly, letting the tight
muscle of the sphincter stretch itself to the dimensions of the massive
intruder. Inch by inch I worked myself down onto him until I had taken it
all and I was sitting astride him with mu buttocks resting on his thighs. He
had his eyes closed and a look of total rapture on his face as he abandoned
himself to pleasure.

Slowly I lifted myself back up his length until there was just an inch or so
of him still inside me, then lowered myself more rapidly onto him, starting
to develop a rhythm that would dictate the tempo of our lovemaking. He
responded by grabbing my waist and thrusting upwards with his powerful hips
so that our bodies were working in unison. He was actually using his
enormous strength to lift me and then forcing me down again to meet the
upward lunges of his pelvis. It was an incredible performance all the more
so as we began to intensify our action and his cock began ramming into me
like a piston. The contortions of his face told me that his climax was close
and I knew that my own was equally near. We came together with one last
mighty thrust of his cock that sent us both over the brink. I could feel his
cock spasm deep inside me as his balls released jet after jet of semen while
my own jism came in great creamy spurts that landed on his chest and
abdomen. I began to lift myself off him, expecting his cock to go soft
before it popped out, but he held me firmly around the waist not allowing me
to move.

"We haven't finished," he said. He was taking control again. With his cock
still hard inside me he made me swivel round to face away from him then
pushed me forward, rolling with me so that he was on top. With barely even a
pause to get his breath back from our earlier exertions he began to fuck me
doggy style, using all the strength of his hips and his muscular buttocks to
pound his cock into me almost brutally, holding me firmly at the waist and
pulling me onto him with each upward thrust. He fucked hard and relentlessly
and even for a guy with all my experience it wasn't too easy to take. I was
moaning like a teenager getting it for the first time, and he loved it.

"What's the matter whore, can't you take a real man?"

"I can take anything you can give," I grunted and he laughed, ramming it
into me even harder. It was a rough fuck, but I didn't want it to end.

"Yeah FUCK ME!" I shouted. "Give me that cock."

I don't know how long we went--I lost all track of time. The world around us
had ceased to exist. There was just this relentless piston of rock hard
flesh pounding into me. The two of us were one, and our only sensation was
the ultimate gratification of our lust. Again, miraculously, we climaxed
together and it was as of every other climax I'd ever had was but a practice
for this one.

We flopped together on the bed and he cradled me in his big arms, hugging me
tightly.

When I woke up the storm was long gone and the sun was high in the sky. He
was still holding me, his great strong body cuddled up against me. A shaft
of sunlight, filtered by the window blind, was falling across his face and
his straw blond hair, making him look more like a little boy than a big,
tough cop. I ran my fingers through his hair and he stirred. He opened his
eyes slowly, taking stock of his surroundings, then a broad smile creased
his face.

"That was the best," he said. "Let's fuck all morning."

He was a cop and I was his whore. How could I possibly say no?

Copyright Hornblower 2002