Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2000 09:18:28 GMT
From: MeToo
Subject: Cop with a Secret

COP WITH A SECRET
By MeToo
(Note: this is written for an ideal world where there is no AIDS or Hep, so
there is no mention of safe sex.  We know, though, that you should, right?)
It involves bikers, cops and that sort of thing (:


Jim Penfold was a cop with a secret, one he'd worked for years to keep. He
drank with the boys, oggled women, laughed at the lewd jokes, even had a few
dates. All camouflage, all to cover the fact that when he played a fast game
of basketball with members of the squad he couldn't help but watch their
bodies, that it wasn't the women officers he admired in their tight shirts
and ass-hugging bike pants. It was the men.

He'd gone out of town when the hunger got too great and he needed to get
laid. Being a cop gave him the opportunity to fake an ID, create a whole
person with papers and cards so that when he went visiting the gay bars and
nightclubs of another town, Jim Penfold vanished and Craig Marshall
appeared.

Craig was a very different person from Jim Penfold. Jim's hair was long,
almost-non regulation but as a Detective Sergeant he could get away with a
little rule bending. He kept it tied up in a ponytail, grew a stubble and
was known for his mono-syllabic grunts as answers to most questions. Jim
dressed like a detective - Craig, though, was very different He wore faded
jeans that hugged his ass and displayed his stuff, along with sleeveless
t-shirts in warm weather that revealed more than they hid.

Jim was on the small for side for a cop, average height and build, a little
thin. He was skilled at Tai Kwon Do but always outmatched in a wrestle. His
sandy blonde hair hung loose around his clean-shaven face. No, Craig and Jim
were two very different men.

He never cruised his own neighbourhood, it had always been too risky -but
one day he saw something who tested all his rules. A group of bikers had
come into town for a motor bike festival. Most of the riders were
well-behaved and the local police had hoped for a peaceful time. Then two
big gangs had turned up, set up camp at opposite ends of the camp site and
glared at each other.

Jim had driven out with another officer to check the situation out and he'd
stayed in the car while the uniformed officer had gone to speak to the
bikers. One of them, the group's second, had caught Jim's eye. He was
probably the most gorgeous human being Jim had ever seen. He was big, but
not chunky, built like a wrestler with a broad chest and he looked strong
enough to pick up his big black Hog by himself. When he stripped off his
black leather jacket as the sun came out and the day heated up, he revealed
a tanned chest and pecs and a flat, hard stomach.

He turned towards the police care and for a moment Jim saw a face like
something from an old Viking movie, all square jaw, long shining black hair
and a feral, fearless stare. It was the most magnetic thing Jim had ever
seen and his hand went to his groin as his meat stirred in his pants at the
sight of the big biker.

He told himself, when he went back to work that day, that even thinking
about having any dealings with biker- and in his own town -was lunatic. Yet
he couldn't stop thinking about the man. That night he dressed in his Craig
disguise, pulled a light jacket over the top of his sleeveless shirt and
rode his own 850 down to the campsite. Just to have another look.

The bikers were all having a pretty good time, they'd set up campfires and a
group of musicians were performing heavy metal rock on a makeshift stage in
the centre of the camp. Fast food sellers had arrived and were doing a
roaring trade. Private security had been hired to keep the peace and seemed
to being a good job of keeping the two biker groups apart.

Craig wandered through the camp with a can of beer, relieved that there was
no-one from town that would recognise him there. He was new in town and
didn't know that many people, especially any that rode bikes, and he figured
if he met anyone he knew, he'd just say he was going a little undercover
spying.

He finally made his way to the biker's campsite and saw his target sitting
off to one side alone. Most of the other bikers were either drinking with
each other, playing cards or engaged in various activities with the women
bikers. The big man he was there to see was alone, a half-empty bottle of
beer in one hand as he saw on a blanket on the ground under a tree. Finally,
unable to resist his crazy impulse, Craig wandered up for a closer look. -

The big man looked up at him and spoke in a low, rumbling voice. "Hi,
stranger.  Do something for you?"

He shrugged. "Saw you arrive, just came by to look at the bikes. Always
wanted a Harley but it was a bit outside my price range."

"Sit down, always pleased to talk to a fellow rider. The name's Wolfe."

So he sat, shared a beer and talked, aware of the musky smell of Wolfe's
body, of the creak of leather each time he moved. Wolfe's eyes were blue,
very sharp, and they watched his face each time he talked. He'd been there
for maybe an hour and was feeling a little relaxed from the amount of beer
he'd taken in, when Wolfe shocked him to silence.

"Well, Craig, talk is nice, but I think it's time I fucked you, don't you?"

Craig choked on his beer and looked up, gaping. "Say what?"

Wolfe grinned, his big mouth tipping up at one edge. "So, don't tell me know
you've been admiring my body for the last hour purely platonically. Oh yeah,
I got a college education. Not all bikers are dumb shits. I can tell that
look, young Craig. You're smelling me up like a bitch in heat." A hand as
big as a ham reached out and took the bottle from Craig's hand and set it
aside. "Why don't you come to my tent, little man, and I'll give you a ride
you like I would my Hog."

Go now, said the little voice of common sense in his head. It was swallowed
up by the exploding arousal in his groin. Numbly he allowed himself to be
pulled to his feet and led into a tent off under the trees. Even though
there was no inside light, the combination of moon and firelight gave enough
light for him to see by.

He watched as Wolfe pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the ground next
to big sleeping bag. Wolfe kicked of his boots and ran his hands down over
his hips before he slid open his fly and delved inside.

"This," he said in a hoarse voice, "is likely to be the best piece of meat
you'll see this side of Texas.  I ain't never had any complaints putting
this to anyone."

Craig gaped It was big. He watched in fascinated silence as Wolfe stroked
and squeezed his cock to jutting arousal. Now, a lot of guys didn't much
like sucking other men off but Craig, well, he loved it and he was down on
his knees and taking that big rod into his mouth before Wolfe had to ask. He
licked the head, wrapped his tongue around the veined length of it and
relaxed his throat as he moved in. A moment of gag - and then Wolfe was
deep-throating him.

It was great, musky and sweaty, his groin rich with the odour of oil and
sweat and hot mansmell. Hands gripped his head, holding him in place as
Wolfe worked the length of his throat.

"You give great head, little man," Wolfe groaned, but Craig couldn't do more
than grunt as the huge cock swelled even more in his throat. He pulled out,
trailing pre-come, as he gasped for air, then surged forward again to
swallow Wolfe's meat whole. He held onto Wolfe's legs, his fingers stroking
up to base of Wolfe's cock, to gently hold and squeeze the large ballsack.
The man was hung like a bull!

Wolfe pulled back and licked his lips, eyes slitted. "That's good, real
fine. Let's have a look at your ass, little one. Show me your pretty ass."

Craig stood, unzipped himself and pulled his pants of, jerking his underwear
off as well, and kicking them aside. Big hands slid behind him to squeeze
and clutch at his asscheeks. "Oh yeah, very nice. And this hole," he said as
he pushed a finger deep inside through the tight pucker, "this will fit me
just fine.  Down on your knees, make doggy for me, little pup."

Craig dropped to his knees and spread his legs as Wolfe knelt behind him.
Fingers pulled his asscheeks apart and he gasped as a hot wet mouth pressed
against his manhole.  Licking and sucking, Wolfe spread saliva over his
pucker, evening pushing the tip of his tongue through the tight sphincter.
He wet his fingers with spit and pushed a couple inside to loosen Craig up
for penetration. When he was moist and ready, Wolfe positioned himself,
hooked his hands around Craig's hips and nudged he head of his big rod into
Craig's asshole.

Craig hissed in pain as he was stretched by the giant cock entering him.  It
was impossible! It was too big. He tried to pull away but Wolfe held him in
place, ignoring his cries of pain as he pushed forward. Working steadily, he
angled his cock inside until he'd penetrated Craig's body fully. Then he
began to pump, working his cock in and out and as his touched Craig's
prostate the smaller man arched back with a cry of pleasure, the pain of his
stretched anus forgotten.

His body twitched with pleasure as Wolfe humped him, till the tent was full
of the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of moist sucking penetration,
of grunted moans. Wolfe grabbed Craig's swollen cock and pumped it even as
he humped him harder and harder, nearly pushing him into the ground. Huge
thighs slammed against Craig's backside, the big body dominated him, driving
him to a final gasping climax. His cum spurted onto the ground as Wolfe
arched backwards, groaned and came. spilling his hot cum deep inside Craig's
bruised body.

He collapsed and Wolfe lay across him, his cock still lodged in Craig's
slick asshole. "That was a fuckin' good ride, little man."

"Wolfe," Craig said with a gasp

"Yes?"

"Do me a favour."

"Sure. Another fuck?"

"Yes. But can you also stop calling me that."

Wolfe pulled back, stroking his slick cock to renewed hardness and smiling.
"Sure.  I can do that.  If you really want me to, Sergeant Penfold. . ."

End?