Tangled Sheets

by Michael Thomas Ford

  Giovanni pushed me into the center of the room and then moved around and stood in front of me, his dark eyes looking me up and down. I wanted badly to look at his face, to see if he was as handsome as I remembered, but I was afraid to. Instead, I looked down at his heavy shoes and waited for him to speak. As he walked around me slowly, his shoes making soft thuds on the cement floor, I could feel his gaze traveling over my body, as if his eyes were seeing right through me and he could tell what I had done with his picture.

  I should never have thought back to the photograph, because even though I was handcuffed and waiting for the big cop to beat the crap out of me, all I could think about was his massive cock and hairy balls. And the more I thought about them, the harder my dick got, until it was pushing out the front of my pants. I knew that Giovanni had to be able to see the bulge, and when I felt him move up to stand behind me, I closed my eyes and waited to feel his fist in my kidney. “You been having a good time with my picture?” he asked from behind me.

  I wasn’t sure how to answer him. If I said yes, then he’d know for sure I had it. If I said no, he’d probably know I was lying. Either way I was in serious trouble. “Yes,” I said finally. He moved closer so that I could feel his chest pressing against my back. “I saw you looking at me that day on the train,” he growled. “You looked like one hungry little cocksucker staring at my dick. Looked like you wanted to drop to your knees right there and have me shove my prick down your throat.” Since that was exactly what I had been thinking, I didn’t argue.

  His deep, masculine voice was doing wonders for my aching hard-on, and the more he talked the hornier I got. “I see a lot of guys like you,” he continued. “They like to stare at me on the train, check out what I’ve got in my pants. Most of them don’t amount to shit, wouldn’t know what to do with a real man if they ever got their hands on one.” He was leaning into me now, as though telling me a secret, and the warmth of him was electric. “But I got the feeling you’d know what to do,” he continued, “so I left you my little calling card. I hope you put it to good use.”

  My jaw must have dropped open from surprise when I heard him say that. He’d actually left the picture there on purpose for me to find. He brought his mouth closer to my ear, so close I could smell the mix of aftershave and sweat on his skin, and whispered, “You get off seeing my big cop dick? Did you like that?” One of his hands slipped around my neck as he pressed against me from behind, the big fingers stroking my throat, and I almost shot my load when I felt his hardness against me. “Did you come thinking about my cock up your ass?” he said. I couldn’t help but moan as I answered him, “Yes.”

  Still standing behind me, Giovanni pulled at the knot of my tie, his big fingers tugging the tangled silk open easily. Then he worked open the buttons on my shirt, popping each one free as he moved down my chest. When it was hanging wide, he slipped his hand inside and began to rub my pecs. “Nice and hard,” he murmured, his fingers massaging the smooth flesh I worked on a couple of times a week at the gym. He gripped one of my sensitive tits and pinched, making me shiver. When he saw my reaction, he brought his other hand up and began to work on both nipples, turning them in his fingers as he rubbed against my ass. Leaning back against him, I let him support my body as I gave in to his caresses. “Oh, yeah,” he said slowly as his mouth covered my neck with hot kisses, “I think you’ll know just what to do with a man like me.”

  His hands quickly ripped open my belt and yanked my zipper down, and it wasn’t long before my pants were on the floor. I slipped off my shoes and Giovanni kicked everything out of the way. Then he ripped my shirt off my body, tearing the thin cotton easily to get around the handcuffs and tossing the shreds aside. My underwear soon joined my other clothes in a pile on the floor as he pushed them down and off, and I was left standing naked, my hands shackled behind me.

  Giovanni walked around me, his fingers lightly touching me as they traveled up my stomach, over my shoulders, down my back, and across my ass. Finally he came back around in front of me and his hand encircled my stiff prick and tugged at my balls. “Nice cock you have here,” Giovanni said as he stroked my shaft slowly. “Almost as nice as mine.” He slid one fat finger between my lips and ran it across my teeth as if it were his prick. I sucked at it gently, feeling it play over my tongue and licking the soft hairs on his knuckle. I ached to touch his wrist and guide him in and out of my mouth but had to be content with slurping on his hand.

  He was rubbing his own dick through his pants, and I could see the outline of the fat head where it swelled out halfway down his thigh. “How would you like to see it in the flesh?” he asked. “Maybe if you ask nicely I’ll show it to you.” He pumped more blood into his cock and the thick tube grew another inch underneath the blue material. “Yes, please,” I gasped as he squeezed my sac tightly and pulled down on my balls, causing a glob of cock spit to dribble from my hole. “I want to see it.”

  To my considerable disappointment, he walked away and sat down on one of the wooden benches facing me, leaving me alone with a dripping tool and no way to satisfy it. Keeping his eyes on me, he began to unbutton his shirt slowly. It seemed to take forever as he carefully pushed each button through its eye and pulled the material apart, and his striptease was making me crazy. He had a white T-shirt on underneath his uniform, and a wide sliver of white came into view as more and more of his shirt opened up. When the last button was undone, he pulled the shirttail from his pants and shrugged the whole thing off completely.

  The ridges of his massive chest were visible through the T-shirt, and his body was even more beautiful than I’d remembered. I held my breath as he reached down and grasped the edges of the shirt. Lifting his arms across his chest, he peeled the shirt off slowly, his sexy torso coming into view inch by inch as he pulled it over his head. He paused for a moment when it reached his neck, the muscles of his arms swelled out and the dark forests of his armpits revealed below the scrim of white as he yanked the last bit over his head.

  Leaning back on the bench, he let me take in the length of his hairy, muscled body as he ran his hands from his tits down to his groin, stopping at the belt of his uniform pants. He knew he was teasing me, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he waited for an excruciatingly long moment before unhooking his belt and beginning to pull the zipper down, parting the metal teeth slowly and deliberately. When it was open he sat up and, bending over, began to take off his shoes, giving me a glimpse of his furry groin and leaving the rest a secret while he took his time.

  I thought I was going to shoot all over the floor just from watching the big stud undress. I loved seeing the way his hands moved over his body pulling buttons from their clasps and peeling away the blueness of the uniform to reveal his flesh and bone. I desperately wanted to play with my cock, but the handcuffs kept my hands behind me, and all I could do was wait for him to continue. It seemed like he took forever pulling off his shoes and socks, but then he stood up and hiked his pants over his hips. My eyes followed them as they slipped down his legs and I finally saw what I had been waiting for.

  Giovanni was wearing white boxer shorts, and the clean lines of the material cut across the darkness of his tanned skin beautifully, his hairy thighs encased in their softness and the waistband breaking the line of fur on his belly. His balls were cupped between his legs in a heavy pouch, and his cock bulged down one side like a thick vein beneath pale skin. He was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted a man in my life.

  Turning around, he bent over the bench, his hands resting on the wide board as he spread his legs. His boxers tightened over his ass cheeks as he did, showing off the big rounded mounds and the long, rippled muscles of his back. A patch of hair shaded the small of his back just above the waist of his shorts, and his rounded calves swelled out as he bent his knees. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he pulled the boxers off slowly, revealing more and more of his furry ass. When he had them off, he bent over again an
d spread his cheeks with his hands, giving me a glimpse of the hairy hole at the center. His balls dangled down between his spread legs, and I could see the shadow of his cock bobbing in front of him.

  The stud cop was putting on a real show for me, and I was loving every minute of it. The more he pawed at his meaty ass, the harder my balls beat with excitement as I thought about how it would feel to bury my tongue in his juicy hole and feel his balls sweep against my chin as I licked every inch of his hot butt. When he finally turned around and I saw his prick, it was all I could do not to spill my nuts. His dick was even bigger than I’d imagined, the head stretching well past the fist that encircled it.

  Sitting on the bench, Giovanni started to play with himself, jerking on his engorged prong in long, deliberate strokes that slid sensuously up and down his beautiful cock. The sight of his thick fingers wrapped around the shaft and of his hairy, muscular forearm as it moved up and down held me captivated, and I felt like I could watch him jerk off forever. Just seeing his balls rise and fall with the motion of his arm was almost enough to make me come.

  He knew how hot he looked working himself, and he sat there pumping his dick for what seemed like hours while I got more and more frustrated from being unable to do anything. Several times I could tell by the way his face tensed that he was close to coming, and I waited to see his big cop load spew out over the floor. But each time he wrapped his finger tightly around the root of his crank and paused a moment until he cooled down enough to continue. Then he would start all over again, smoothly caressing his shaft with his big hand, his other hand sometimes rubbing his hairy chest and playing with his tits, sometimes moving down under his balls to finger his hole.

  Finally, just when I didn’t think I could stand another second of watching him work his meat, he stopped. “Come over here,” he ordered. I moved over to the bench and knelt between his legs, looking at the throbbing tool he held so close to my face. The shaft was covered with a scattering of dark hair that rose up from his balls for several inches before giving way to smooth, hard flesh, and the tip was wide and flushed with blood. A drop of precum was sliding down the valley of his cockhead, and my mouth watered just thinking about how good it would taste. But I waited for him to tell me what he wanted.

  “Suck it,” he said. “Do what you dreamed of doing when you looked at my picture.” Inching forward until I was right between his legs, I leaned down and slipped the crown of his prick into my mouth, closing my lips around it greedily. The cop’s dick felt so hot in my mouth and I was so horny that I immediately sank down on it until I felt his bush against my face. My throat ached with the size of him, but he tasted so fucking good I didn’t care. I slurped on his crank like it was the best thing I’d ever had in my mouth, and it was. I could feel the blood coursing beneath his skin as I sucked him, and tasted his delicious precum as it began to flow from his hole.

  I looked up into Giovanni’s dark eyes as I blew him, watching pleasure flood his face as I moved up and down his tool servicing him. His mouth twitched whenever I reached his sensitive knob and drew my teeth across it, and I could see a small scar on his stubble-shaded chin ripple whenever he clenched his jaw. He was so fucking sexy I would have done anything to please him. When he put one hand on the side of my neck, I rubbed my face against the soft hair of his arm as I worked on his cock, taking in every inch of him until my throat roared with pain. I loved the feeling of his fingers pressing on my skin and the way his arm muscles tensed along my jaw while his dick played in and out of my mouth. He was everything I’d ever wanted, and I could have blown him all night long if he’d let me.

  But he had other ideas. Pulling his cock out of my mouth, he lay back on the bench, his prick stretching out over his belly and his balls hanging over the edge of the wooden slab. “Get up here,” he said, his voice deep and lust filled. I could tell he was ready to use his big piece for something other than show, and I couldn’t wait to see what the man could do to my asshole with his cock.

  Standing up, I straddled him, sitting on his stomach. My legs stretched over his waist and his hands gripped my ass cheeks as I leaned down to suck on his nipples. He groaned as I bit one softly, and I felt his dick jump beneath my ass. While licking his tit I slid myself along his hairy body, enjoying the sensation of him against my smooth skin, the way the hair tickled my balls and the head of my prick. I could feel his cock slipping along my ass crack and lifted myself up so that the big tip pressed against my hole.

  Giovanni was more than ready for me, and he pushed into me urgently as I lowered myself down onto his fat prong until I could feel his wrinkled ballsac brush the fingertips of my bound hands. The walls of my chute swelled as his flesh filled me tightly, and I knew I was going to be sore as hell later. Still, I pressed down until I was sitting on his stomach again, his whole piece lodged inside me. “I knew you’d have one sweet ass,” he said breathlessly. “But this is even better than I expected.”

  That was all I needed to get going. Rising up, I slid up Giovanni’s fuck stick until just his knob was inside me, then went back down again. His hands cupped my ass as I rode him, and after a few minutes he began to lift his hips up to meet my asshole. Soon he was pounding in and out of my chute mercilessly, my balls slapping his stomach as his ass rose off the bench repeatedly, coming back down with muffled slaps.

  I’d never been fucked so hard before and never enjoyed having a cock up my ass so much. When he took my dick in one hand and began to jerk me off, I knew it would all be over soon. Giovanni began to moan loudly, and I could tell from the way his cock became even harder that he was near the edge. “Shoot your load in my butt,” I said. “Fill it with your hot cum.” His eyes clouded over. “I’m going to blow in your ass,” he gasped, and held my waist as he pulled me down onto his weapon.

  My chute filled with sticky warmth as he released torrent after torrent of cop jism deep in my bowels, each blast exploding inside me like a gunshot. I came with him and watched as my dick splattered his chest and the floor with load after load. He kept pumping me with his hand as I came, and soon his fingers were thick with my juice.

  After we both finished blowing our loads, I collapsed against his chest. He was still hard, and I felt his cum slipping down the walls of my ass as he pulled out of me and sat up. “I guess I can take these off now,” he said, grinning as he held up the small silver key that unlocked the handcuffs. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll be running away any time soon.”

  “Oh, please don’t, Officer Giovanni,” I said jokingly, rubbing my freed wrists. “I kind of liked them.” He laughed. “Just call me Mike,” he said, using what was left of my shirt to wipe the cum from his belly and then starting to get dressed. “It’s really Michelangelo, but only my mother still calls me that.” He picked up his sweat-stained T-shirt and tossed it to me. “Here,” he said. “Wear this. I’m afraid yours is out of commission.” I pressed the shirt to my face and inhaled the musky smell of him, then pulled it over my head. Because he was bigger than I, it settled around my body loosely, and it made me horny just knowing that he had worn it.

  Mike must have noticed the smile on my face, because he came over, put his arms around me, and gave me a long, deep kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips. When he finally pulled away, he picked up his gun belt and fastened it around his waist. “Time to get back to work,” he said. “But how about I come over when my shift ends? I’ve got a feeling you and I have just started to get to know one another.”

  “Sounds fine by me,” I said, straightening his hat. “But maybe you should ride with me to my stop. After all, you never know what kind of people are riding the trains this time of night.”

  Paying the Tax Man

  Do I really need to explain the inspiration for this one? Rather than locate all my receipts one April 14, I wrote this instead. It must have been bad karma, because ten years later I was audited. Sadly, they demanded a check.

  Even before I opened the ominous blue envelope lurking in my mailbox like
some deadly creature waiting for its dinner, I was overcome by an intense feeling of imminent eternal damnation. There were no clues to its contents on the envelope, just the fateful words Official Business printed in tidy letters in the right-hand corner. Not even a return address. I tried to tell myself it was just another sweepstakes notice, or another one of the endless stream of feminine-hygiene-product circulars I seemed to always be getting that told me how I could feel fresh and smell like a field of daisies. At the worst, I allowed myself to think that it might be a jury-duty notice, and was oddly comforted by this idea.

  But once I opened it, my worst fears became instant reality. There it was in black and white, a letter requesting the honor of my presence at a meeting with the jolly tax men. I was supposed to appear at the local IRS office in three weeks with all of my “pertinent receipts and forms,” ready to discuss “a possible error in the computation of your 1991 return.”

  1991? I couldn’t even find the receipts for groceries I bought that morning; how the hell was I supposed to find a bunch of ancient documents from before the dawn of man? I spent the afternoon rummaging frantically through my hopelessly unordered file cabinet. All that was left in my optimistically created tax file were four taxi fare slips, assorted receipts for things I didn’t even remember buying, and a check stub from a restaurant that had some guy named Sean’s phone number on it.