by Ryan Field
“I'm not naked. This is a very warm coat,” I said, looking directing into his sky blue eyes. “Why don't you put your hands underneath and find out for yourself.” I caressed the back of his neck slowly.
He began to unfasten the belt that held my coat together, opening it, and then allowing it to fall from my shoulders to the wet, cold parking lot. It was an old coat; he could have stepped on it for all I cared. My eight-inch cock was now fully erect. He grabbed it with his right hand, placed his left hand on my bare ass and then leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. I opened my mouth, and his warm tongue began to circle mine. With force I hadn't expected, he pulled me toward his body, and I wrapped both my arms around his wide shoulders. Then we kissed: fast, hard face sucking; his rough beard rubbed against my smooth face, and his slim hips bucked into my pelvis. He overpowered me, and I let him. I had a feeling his thick dick was ready to burst from the navy wool slacks pressing against my naked groin. He began to make faster fucking motions as though he were about to pound me into the metal frame of the car.
With my left hand holding his neck for support, I reached down with my right and slowly began to unzip his pants. I wanted to set him free and hold him in my palm. I felt the cold metal of his cop badge against my naked chest. When his zipper was down, I reached inside and grabbed his cock...beer-can thick and yet soft and gentle at the same time.
He bit my neck, just beneath the choker. “Oh, baby, that's it. You're a cuddle toy. Stroke me like you love it. Show me how much you like dick.”
“Handcuff me; I'll do whatever you want,” I said, running my face across the cotton fabric of his pale blue uniform shirt, not knowing how he'd react. I began to rub his dick. A big cop cock, real cop handcuffs on my wrists. I knew he wanted me to tell him he was the best. I could sense he was into cheesy, trashy, almost-laughable dialogue for the sake of sex. “You're very strong; you're dick is huge.” I wasn't lying either. He was the best I'd ever seen in a place like this.
He smiled. “Turn around, baby. I'll handcuff you.”
As I turned, my arms already behind my back, he pulled out cold, shiny handcuffs and clamped my wrists together. I was now in complete submission; his fuck toy for as long as he wanted.
“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered. “Open them nice and wide so I can get in there.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, hoping and praying he'd fuck and pound and rip me wide open with that beer-can cop cock. My entire body tingled, my heart raced, and I had trouble catching my breath.
“I'll just put on a rubber, slip it in and out real slow, baby,” he said. “The rubber isn't pre-lubed, I'm afraid. I'm going in dry, bitch.”
I liked that he referred to a condom as a rubber; it was sexier for some reason. I didn't care about lube. I knew how to take him dry without any problem. The friction would only make it better for me. “I don't have any lube, officer; you'll just have to bury it with your spit.” I lied; there was a tube in the glove box just in case I needed it. I never went anywhere without condoms or lube, just in case.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he said, as he spit into the palm of his right hand and then rubbed it on his cock. He wasn't serious. His tone was gentle, and he was smiling the entire time.
“Go easy,” I said as he slammed the car door shut. “You're a big boy.” The metal handcuffs clinked against the steel on his belt buckle. I was only joking about going easy. I really wanted to say, “Bury it, officer,” but I thought that might be too forward.
He laughed; he seemed to sense I knew what I was doing. “I know how to take care of bitches like you. I know exactly what you want.”
I was now totally nude, save for the six-inch heels and choker, and he was fully clothed, with a thick erection swinging from an opening in his pants. I pressed my shoulders against the frame of the car, leaned over, spread my legs wider, and arched my back for an easy mount. He spit again, lubed his cock. Then, he slowly began to work it into my ass. It didn't take much. The lips of my hole parted and sucked his big cop cock without a hint of rejection. I felt an instant of good pain, but it didn't last long. His large hands held the sides of my smooth ass and he slowly began to fuck and pump and pound. The rough fabric of his uniform rubbed against the back of my thighs; his huge balls slapped the bottom of my ass. To enhance his pleasure, I squeezed my hole tightly, creating suction and jerking his dick while he fucked.
“What's your name?” he asked a few minutes later, out of breath from fucking.
“Luke,” I replied, wondering why he'd asked.
“Luke, I swear to God that I'm HIV negative. I just want you to know that. I always wear condoms and I've been tested and I'm fine. But you're so fucking hot, I can't control myself. Can I fuck you raw?” He slapped my ass. “I need it raw.”
“Me, too,” I said as he continued to fuck and pound very slowly. “I'm negative, I swear.” I wasn't sure about him fucking me raw. I didn't know him, and he could have been lying about being negative.
“Then, Luke,” he said, fucking harder, pounding with such force, I knew he'd split me open, “Can I fuck you raw? Please, can I just feel what it's like in there without the condom?” He lowered his voice and said, “I'll bet it's warm and soft, just like a pussy.”
I almost laughed at that line. But I knew he was only speaking this way because he thought it was sexy. So I wiggled my ass and said, “It is like a pussy.”
“Let me fuck you raw.”
“What's your name, officer?” I asked.
“Bobby,” he replied, squeezing my ass so hard, I knew there would be bruises in the shape of fingerprints the next day.
“Bobby,” I said, bracing my legs firmly so I wouldn't lose my balance with the high heels on the wet pavement, “It's not that I don't trust you, but I'd rather you keep the condom on this time. I'm sorry. I have rules about these things. But I really wish you didn't have it on. You're different from the others. I like you, and I don't even know you.” I knew if I said no, it would only make him want to fuck me raw and shoot up my hole all the more. I wanted his come up my ass. I wanted him to plant all the fucking seed he had in his big, strong balls inside my body. I hadn't been fucked raw in so long, I'd forgotten what raw dick felt like. But I just couldn't take that chance with a stranger, not after I'd been so safe all my life with everyone else. It would have made all that sacrifice and all those times I'd said no to eager, begging men worthless.
He slowed down for a moment and caressed my ass. “That's cool,” he said. “Maybe next time. I can prove to you that I'm negative with actual results, and then we'll do it raw.”
Did he just say next time? I didn't want to ask out loud, so I just smiled and said, “If you can prove it, you can fuck me raw next time. I'll even wear the high heels again if you want.”
Then he slapped my ass and said, “Shut the fuck up. You know you'll wear the high heels. You know you love getting fucked in high heels,” he ordered, placing a strong hand over my mouth so tightly, I could barely breath, “I'm gonna shoot my load any minute. I can't hold back.”
I tried to mumble that it was okay, but it was no use. It made me smile that he wanted to come this way; most guys just pull out and jack. He was so rough, and he fucked so hard. Anything that came from my mouth sounded more like a squeal than a coherent word. His strength; the handcuffs; I was his slave for as long as he wanted. The best I could do was try to nod my head yes.
“Get ready, bitch,” he shouted, fucking harder, his legs beginning to vibrate. “Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, man.”
I knew he was ready to unload and fill the condom, and I wanted it as hard and rough as he could give it. I'd reached the edge of my own climax and I wanted to come, too.
“Here it comes,” he moaned. Then he slapped my ass so hard, it echoed into the dark night.
I grew closer. Actually, I'd been close to orgasm the minute he'd shoved his cock up my hole, and I'd had to hold back on purpose. I'd always been lucky this way. If the guy fucking me was rough enough and he hit the right spots deep
in my body and he slapped my ass hard enough, I could climax without even touching my dick. An internal orgasm was the best kind, mainly because it was more psychological and emotional than physical. I'd learned through trial and error that the word emotion contained more than one meaning.
“Yeah, fuck, bitch,” he shouted, “Here it comes. Fuck, yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
With his hand still over my mouth, I began to moan; I licked the palm of his large hand. When a guy like Bobby shouts fuck as he climaxes, a guy like me knows he's doing his job.
And then the fucking grew intense, his legs began to bend, as though doing the limbo. He humped so hard, my head began to bob, and I had to lean into the door frame with my shoulder so I wouldn't fall over. With his other hand, he started to pull my ass toward his cock, practically lifting me in the air.
“I'm fucking ready to blow,” he shouted. “Ah...Ah...fuck yes...Ah fuck.” He grunted and moaned and sighed. It took a while, but he got there. He pulled my ass toward his dick and shot his load into the condom.
As he did this, I reached the best orgasm I'd ever had. My entire body shuddered with pleasure. It wasn't just the high heels and choker or being nude in a public rest area or being fucked by a big, strong cop. It wasn't just the slight pain from the real handcuffs, the rugged way he'd held my ass while he fucked, and the way he'd needed to cum inside my body. It was more than just a naughty, little slut night for me. With this guy, it was emotional in a way I'd never experienced before. That's when it occurred to me that I really liked him. It was more than sex. I would have done anything to please him by then. I wanted to shout tie me up, kick me with your dirty boots, and fuck my brains out so I can't walk tomorrow. But I didn't want him to think I was out of control. He seemed to like the fact that I was more subdued than he was, and I didn't want to ruin that gentle balance.
For a moment, after we'd both blown our loads, we remained in position, with Bobby deep inside. He gently ran his hands up and down my ass, slowly fucking, trying to dump every last drop of his load into the condom. In this sense, he proved again that he was a real man. He needed to maintain control and keep me submissive. And I responded by wiggling my ass in slow circles, encouraging him to remain inside for as long as he wanted.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for the key to the handcuffs, “You are the hottest thing I've seen in a long time, walking around out here in black leather high heels and choker collar. I wish I could take you home with me right now, but I'm on duty.”
I was slightly stunned. Did he just say he wanted to take me home? I'd expected him to jump off my back, pull up his zipper, and say thanks like most guys. That's usually how the down low worked in public rest stops. Then, they go home to their girlfriends and wives with big smiles on their faces.
“I'm fine,” I said as he pulled his cop dick from my body and unlocked the handcuffs. Fuck, dude, I wanted to say, that was the best fucking pound session any guy ever gave. I knew I'd still feel that big cock up my hole for days to come.
“I swear I'm not positive,” he said, stuffing his cock back into his navy slacks. He seemed eager to repeat this.
“Me, either,” I said, now standing there naked but not feeling awkward at all. I usually experience a strong sensation of guilt and couldn't wait to put on my clothes and take off the high heels. But that night, I only felt warm and happy.
He bent down, picked up my coat and helped me put it on, pulling the belt tightly. I'd never met a guy who'd actually dressed me.
“I hope this doesn't sound weird or anything, but I really think it's hot when a good-looking guy wears high heels...it really gets me going. It's not something I see often, and I'd never ask anyone to do it. Do you think we can hook up again? I really want to fuck you raw next time.”
I smiled. “Will you use the handcuffs?”
“Oh, next time, I'll completely dominate you, with you on your back, hands tied to the bed post, a gag in your mouth, and those high heels over my shoulders. Maybe we can get you some more black leather shit, too. I'd love to see a black leather belt around your waist. Maybe some tall black boots with high heels. That shit really turns me on, buddy.”
I found some paper and a pen in the car, wrote my number and handed it to him.
“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said, his blue eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Then, he reached down and ran both hands under my coat, resting them on my ass, and stuck his thick tongue in my mouth. A minute later, he stopped kissing and said, “Maybe we can get you a pair of red high heels.” He laughed. “You won't be able to walk for a week, trust me.”
I caressed the back of his head and kissed his chin. I smiled and said, “I have red heels. I have white, pink, gold, and silver, too.”
He slapped my ass and stepped back. “C'mon, baby. Let's get your pants on, and I'll follow out to the highway so I know you're safe. Then I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll go out to dinner or something. I know a couple of nice places in town. I eat lunch out all the time, and I know a lot of the owners. And then we'll hook up at my place.”
“Aren't you afraid someone will see you out with a guy?” I asked. He was a cop. And though I wasn't effeminate, I was surprised he would want to go out in public on a date with a guy.
He shrugged. “I'm not in the closet. I came out a long time ago to my family and my co-workers. It made life a lot easier. And if anyone has a problem with me taking you out in public, I'll kick their ass.” He kissed me again and said, “Get dressed. It's getting late.”
When I was dressed, he kissed me good-bye and closed the car door for me. I started my car first, and he followed me out of the rest area and onto the highway. He remained behind me until I reached my exit. And when I hit the turn signal and eased to the right, he hit his red lights, sounded a quick siren, and zoomed by on my left. As I watched his tail lights disappear in the distance, I experienced a warm sensation I'd never known before. All of a sudden, I wanted to get to know him better. I wanted to find out what his favorite color was and to know what his favorite meal was. Did he like to read? Did he like to travel? There was so much to learn and so much to look forward to. And for the first time in weeks, I knew I wouldn't have any trouble sleeping that night.
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About the Author
Ryan Field is a fiction writer who has worked in publishing for over fifteen years. He has worked as an assistant editor and editor for magazines and non-fiction publishers.
Aside from his novels, his short stories have been published in anthologies and collections by Alyson Books, Cleis Press and Starbooks Press. His short story, “Down the Basement,” is part of a collection of short stories in the Lambda Award winning book, BEST GAY EROTICA 2009.
He blogs at www.ryan-field.blogspot.com
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Other LYD Titles
By Ryan Field
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Young Doughy Joey
“Whatever, Dude”
Capping The Season
Vance's Flames
Down The Basement
Pumpkin Ravioli Boy
A Regular Bud
Strawberries and Cream at the Plaza
Kevin Love's Cowboys
Missing Jackson's Hole
Sir, Yes Sir
Down the Basement II: Santa Saturday
Dirty Little Virgin
Billabong Bang
Jolly Roger
You missed A Spot Big Guy
Skater Boy
Babycakes
Another Regular Bud
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