by Mark Alders
Rookie police officer Casey Watson is dedicated to his job, works long hours and tries to make a difference within his district fighting crime. He is a can-do man, keen and eager to keep the city safe at night. Together, with his rough and tough work partner and good buddy, Bruce O’Connell, they make a great team.
Casey also has a magical foreskin.
When he cock docks with any perpetrator, when his foreskin tingles to let him know the criminal he has apprehended is guilty, the magic within his amazing foreskin makes any man tell the truth. What’s more, they forget how and why they told as soon as Casey climaxes, too.
But if anyone finds out about his foreskin’s abilities, he could be suspended, kicked off the force at the worst. Can Casey continue to perform his duties while using his foreskins abilities? Or will he have to reveal his secret to not only protect himself but Bruce as well?
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The Hood of Justice
Copyright © 2011 Marl Alders
ISBN: 978-1-55487-876-5
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
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The Hood of Justice
A Casey Watson Story
By
Mark Alders
Dedication
This book is dedicated Camila (bookwatcher)
Chapter One
It was a clear night, after two in the morning. The Moon was full and the streets were quiet. The type of night crime likes to think it can get the upper hand and decent cops have to be extra vigilant. The kind of night cops, like Casey Watson, sometimes dreaded. Too quiet was worse than full on action—it meant the crims were being sneaky…the bastards.
Casey moved to stub out his cigarette, realising just in time the thing wasn’t a cigarette, but one of those nicotine inhalers. He didn’t fancy another broken inhaler, smashed into the cup holder of his patrol car because the cars no longer had ashtrays, so he placed it into his top pocket. Giving up smoking was easy. Keeping that commitment was sometimes a little more difficult, especially since he broke up with his long term boyfriend, Braden I’m-not-sure-if-I-want-to-be-with-a-guy-on-a-permanent-basis-becasue-I’m-still unsure about my sexuality Stonehem.
Thank fuck his now ex-boyfriend decided to have his bit of sexual pleasure before he dropped that bombshell onto Casey. In fact, it was because of the man’s need to be worshipped, licked and kissed, and told how big and beautiful he was which led Casey to discover he was cheating on him…with a woman. A fucking woman, of all things.
Casey climbed out of his patrol car, adjusting his uniform and dusting imaginary lint off his shoulders. He and his patrol partner had been called to a disturbance in the area not so colourfully called, the rat’s nest. A place where all sorts of miscreants and vagabonds gathered to cause trouble and prey on those who want to crawl away from society and die in the gutter alone and penniless. A perfect place to find Serfs—a cute name they gave to the poor souls the big sharks use to help them launder money or do little deeds for a few dollars and a hot meal. Easy prey.
He couldn’t help but think of Braden, his ex, as he and his partner patrolled the rat’s nest, flashlights causing any vermin to scatter, reflecting off the gathered mist of early morning. The night was also cold, seeing his breath evident of such a thing.
“Quite tonight,” his partner, Bruce, a big, burly bear, married to some skinny chick whose name eluded him said, not to state the obvious, but to break the silence—a silence which had become unbearable. A silence which had pervaded the night like the stain of crime had permeated the city.
“I’d give anything for some action right now,” Casey said. His thoughts remained on what had consumed them earlier. He smiled to himself, remembering the look on Braden’s face when him discovered and confronted him about his cheating ways. The man was dumbfounded and busted all at once, and the poor bastard had no clue as to why. When found out, when the truth was revealed during an act of intimacy between them, Braden scrambled off the bed, cum still dripping off his cock, balls still tight from his excitement in his sack, trying his best to look apologetic but only managing to anger Casey even more. The bastard. He threw Braden out of his house on his arse. He could crawl to his woman. She could deal with him.
Unlike Braden, he knew how he had discovered his cheating ways without really trying, but such a thing had to remain a secret, never shared with anyone. Not even a lover. In fact, the less anyone knew about his power, the better. Clark Kent would never tell Lois Lane he was Superman no matter how many times she let him pork her. Casey felt the same. He had a secret, one which had to be kept that way. The job he loved and the life he had come to celebrate since he had become a man was at stake if anyone knew, especially the police force he had joined only a couple of years ago.
What was his secret? Well, since he had hit puberty, he knew something was different about himself. He knew he possessed something special, something which would help him become the man he wanted to be, yet at the same time it was the reason he had to keep such knowledge away from others.
Again, Casey smiled.
“What you grinning at like some dumb English Cat from Cheshire?” His partner continued to scan the area with his flashlight. No vagrants around here. Only curls of mist around their feet and the unmistakable tang of urine. Yep, it was too quiet.
“Nothing,” Casey returned without hesitation. “Perhaps we should try looking under the Main Street Bridge. Whoever created the reported disturbance is probably long gone. Still, we might catch some unsavoury type scoping out for Serfs amongst the tramps.”
“Why not? We’ve still got a few hours before dawn and the end of our shift. Lead on, buddy.”
“Better call it in what we’re up to.”
“Sure. I’ll go. Be with you in a tick.” His partner turned to return to the patrol car, to let headquarters know they were staying in the rat’s nest longer than anticipated.
“You’ve got your radio on your shoulder there, mate.”
Bruce winked. “Yeah, but I left my gum in the glove box.”
Casey didn’t reply. He returned to his thoughts. Thoughts about when he first realised he was different and how such a thing had helped him to not make a terrible mistake with Braden. He was thirteen, fresh into high school and sprouting pubes and hormones which ruled all his waking thoughts. Not much different than now, some five years later, really, seeing as he was a first year rookie out of police academy, but still, thirteen was his earliest memory.
He got a tingling sensation. That’s how it started. He had never experienced the sensation before and it was completely different to how pins and needles felt. Why did he know it wasn’t pins and needles? Well, in no medical journal ever written had anyone’s foreskin gone dead from lack of blood or whatever the f
uck caused that numbing feeling in limbs. Yep, that’s right, Casey’s foreskin tingled. It fucking tingled like a mother fucker, unlike anything he had ever known and anything ever since. What caused it? Well, it wasn’t until two years later, and he was in the boys’ toilets and crushing on a guy named Petros, he discovered why his foreskin acted so strange. He knew it was strange because no other boy had told him their foreskin tingled. No search on the net produced any help, either. Yahoo answers seemed about as useful as tits on a bull when it came to any real issue. He still shuddered at some of the responses when he asked why his foreskin tingled. One guy wrote, ‘cause my tongue just finished licking it. Really? Idiot.
So how did Casey finally find out what the tingling meant? Petros taught him how to cock dock. During the lesson, the full extent of what ability he had came into fruition. Petros seemed to go into a state of shock, looked like a deer caught in headlights the truth be told.
When Casey asked him what the matter was, Petros spilled his guts. Told him everything and so much more, including how he felt up the relief science teacher and laid the blame on him when the headmaster walked in on them, getting the poor man suspended from teaching without pay until a full enquiry was launched. Compelled to right a wrong, Casey told the school board of his findings. He didn’t like being a snitch, but a man’s career was a man’s career.
Petros dropped the accusation.
Suffice it to say, Petros had no recollection of what transpired. He dug on Casey a few more times over the year, and they had some great times being with each other whenever they got the chance. The last year of high school was a good year. Full of discovery…and what his power really meant.
Casey kicked a rock. It pinged against the brickwork of the Main Street Bridge. The memory of Petros brought him joy. That docking experience he had with him some three years ago now, led Casey to experiment with other guys. Turned out, when he docked with other men, they had no choice but to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. His career in law enforcement seemed inevitable.
“I think I see something over there,” his partner said, knocking Casey from his reverie, running to catch him up.
Casey snapped back to the moment. Sure enough, a man lurked nearby. He could make out a shadow under the bridge, a shadow which looked like someone up to no good. Perhaps he was a hustler, a shark, but definitely a crim, no doubt about it.
The silence which pervaded, almost suffocated the night, was broken by one of the tramps shouting, telling the man to get lost and let him sleep. The intruder dashed off to another group huddled under cardboard boxes within the shadows of the bridge. They would be perfect targets. Easy prey.
“I’m going to follow him.” Casey unclipped his gun’s holster strap. “You get what you can out of those homeless folk.”
“Sure thing.” Bruce didn’t hesitate to act. He was over at the cardboard houses under the bridge in no time flat.
Casey swallowed hard.
Something told him he was going to get a crim tonight after all. That and the fact his foreskin tingled like all fuck. He wished he could reach down and scratch the skin off the fucker for doing what it did at such an inappropriate time. But in the end, he smiled, deciding not to go through with his thoughts. Somehow, anyone seeing a copper scratch his crotch while he was in uniform and on duty, wasn’t the best look for the force. Not these days with smart phones and digital cameras, anyway. That’s all he or the Sarge of his district needed, a leaked video on the net of him going hell for leather on his genitals while his partner did all the leg work.
Soon Casey was at a service road which ran alongside the bridge. A noise of something moving, of something scraping against the gravel which held weight and couldn’t have been a cat, alerted him to the fact he went the right way in search of his perp. He flashed his light toward the sound. Only bushes confronted him, all long shadows and plenty of space for a man to hide within. The man also had nowhere to hide. The bridge’s brickwork had created an alcove, one which the man ran straight into.
“This is the police…” he began his usual diatribe, reaching down for his weapon and pulling it out of the holster. “Show yourself.”
Another shuffle.
This time Casey decided to play it a different way. “Fine. I’ll just radio for backup, and in seconds this place will be crawling with police who won’t be in as good a mood as I am. You won’t get away, might as well give it up now.”
Again a shuffle, but this time, a young man came into Casey’s flashlight’s beam, his hands in the air. His smile a sort of know it all smirk. “I’ve done nothin’ wrong, pig.”
“Don’t play me for a fool, mate. If you were all sweet and innocent, why’d you run and hide, then?”
“You scared me, is all. Can’t a man get scared? Not against any law, is it?”
Casey stepped closer to the man. He was tall, skinny and had a cute face with a button nose. He was a redhead, too. How damn hot. His lips were plump, but his eyes were his best feature, they were the sort which demanded attention. The sort which begged for more when you were fucking the living daylights out of a man. The sort Braden had. Eyes which got Casey as hard as a rock. “Put your back against the wall.”
For a moment the man was taken aback. “Don’t ya mean, put my hands on the wall?”
“Nope. Put your back on the wall. Do it or I will cuff you and make you do it.”
The man snarled, “You got nothin’ on me.”
“I’ve got suspicion, that’s all I need.”
“Don’t you have to read me my rights or somethin’?”
Casey stepped closer.
The man’s back hit the wall with such force he let out a breath. “Fuck.”
Casey licked his lips, before adding, “I’ll read you your rights when you give me some information. Nothing wrong with me asking, is there?”
“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’, pig. You cops are all bent.”
Casey holstered his gun. Seconds later, he reached down to unzip his trousers, to free his erection from its cloth prison. He smiled at the man when the cold air struck his erection. The moonlight had bathed his cock in a lovely glow, his long, loose hanging foreskin glistened with pre-cum to reflect his excitement. The light sure did show off his cock in all its glory, set a perfect mood for what he was about to do.
His foreskin tingled even more. Casey never retracted. He was going to need his beautiful foreskin in more ways than one in a few moments, anyway. “You can say that again.”
“What the fuck are you doin’?” The man’s eyes were wide, but Casey couldn’t help but notice he had glanced down many times. There was an interest there. Interesting.
Then, without warning, and while the man was still in a state of shock, pinned to the wall from both surprise and disbelief, Casey reached over and grabbed his pants. With all his might he pulled down so the man’s trousers were at his knees. Seemed the man didn’t burden himself with underwear. Seemed the man was excited, too. His cock sprung up, all hard and magnificent, sprouting from a thick bush of red pubic hair. “Now, in a few moments I am going to ask you some questions.”
“This…is…” The man blinked. “I’m going to report…you. You’re…fucked.”
“What are you going to report me for, making love?” Casey got into position, one where he could whisper into the man’s ear, get close to him so he could use his foreskin to full advantage. An advantage he planned to make full use of. After all, docking with a hot guy to get information out of him, what was wrong with that? Sure, it was against all police procedure, not exactly covered in the academy in any class, but what the force didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. Right? So long as Casey got his man, that’s all the Sarge cared about. He was honest. He was loyal. The force needed him.
Besides, how would he explain to anyone he had a magical foreskin? They’d laugh him out of the office if he even breathed a word about such a thing. The force had only just accepted gays. A gay with a superpower mi
ght be too much of a leap for any straight laced internal board of inquiry to comprehend, let alone understand.
The man groaned and then nodded, seemingly relaxed and malleable to whatever Casey needed from him. The reason he didn’t resist, couldn’t resist in fact, was because Casey had touched the man’s cock with his foreskin. He groaned some more. The man’s voice, like a delicious aphrodisiac, spurred Casey on into an even more wonderful bliss. His cock, solid as a rock, oozed pre cum so that it dribbled from his slit like spider silk soaked in morning dew. Such a reaction from any man was always the first effect his foreskin had when he touched their genitals. He also noted, the man’s foreskin had retracted a while ago, nowhere near as long and beautiful as Casey’s, but still, he was a fine specimen. Damn fine. If circumstances were different, he would rumble between the sheets with this red head without any encouragement at all. He was attractive, no doubt about it.
With deft movement and a smile which couldn’t be erased, Casey rolled his foreskin over the young man’s exposed head. A head which so happened to be wonderfully moist, too. The man’s pre cum helped matters. The experience was so sensuous, so intimate and one he couldn’t believe more men didn’t want to share with each other. Casey loved the feel he got from docking. Even the uptight Sarge could benefit from a good cock dock, he’d wager.
The man groaned deeper.
When he had pushed his foreskin so that it completely covered the man’s bulging head, over his coronal ridge and held into place a little better, Casey asked with a whisper, “What were you doing here, my man?” The red head had the look all guys got when Casey docked with them. Sheer and absolute stunned silence, writhing in ecstasy, gasping, moaning, as hard as hell themselves, until they were asked a question. When a question was asked, a flood of information would follow. This man was no different.
