Straight Cop
For years I was a country cop outside a very large city. Being a cop, I can
tell you stories that would curl your hair, but I'll settle for just giving you
a hard on.
It was in the mid 70's. I was out on patrol one hot summer night in the far
reaches of my patrol area. It was a nothing night - boring - zip happening, but
what the hell, I'm paid either way. My patrol took me all over my assigned
area, and I thought I'd finish up looking through one secluded area before
radioing one of the other cars to see if they were interested in coffee.
I proceeded to drive through a large wooded park, known for its attraction to
young lovers. A great place to rip off a piece, if you know what I mean. Not
much chance of getting disturbed or caught. But what the hell, I haven't
checked this place out in over 2 weeks so it's due for a sweep.
I only saw 3 cars in the area. One was occupied by a couple with a kid and they
were sleeping - their excuse being that they were passing through and didn't
want to invest in a motel room. The second car was a young couple that saw me
driving up. You could tell the hot little teen blondie was pulling up her pants
as I was pulling up behind them. Nothing happening here. The last car was off
a bit, away from the parking area. Now, don't get the idea that cops area some
sort of perverts who like to watch other people screwing or nothing, because it
just isn't true. The truth of the matter is that we check out parkers just to
make sure that a stranger isn't raping little Sally. And that if she there of
her own free will, then she is at least over 18.
Anyhow, I drove up behind the last car and got out, leaving my cop car door
open. All I could see as I walked up to the car was the back of a head in the
rear seat. Whoever it was in the car obviously didn't see or hear me coming.
As I walked slowly up the side of the car, I could now see inside. The guy in
the back seat was getting the blowjob of his life. This head was bobbing up and
down on his pole for all he was worth. Lucky bastard, I thought. But now to
disturb their fun. A banged on their car door and the recipient of the blowjob
suddenly opened his eyes. The "blower" looked up and my life changed forever.
It was a guy. The head that had been bobbing up and down on the other guys cock
and belonged to a male. I have no idea who was more embarrassed - the blower,
the blowee or me. I just stood there stammering and then just walked away.
Never in my whole red-blooded
pussy eating, cunt screwing life had I seen anything like that. I decided to
try to forget the whole thing and just carry on. Shit.
Three months pass...
I was working nights again, and had stopped at a local diner for a bite to eat.
As any other cop will freely tell you, the bloody last thing that a cop wants
while dining is company. We are tired of listening to people's bullshit and now
just want a bit of piece and quiet.
I was halfway through my meal, staring down at the place, when I became
acutely aware that someone had walked up to me and was standing they're
waiting to be acknowledged. Ok, I'll bite. Probably some asshole wanting to
complain about a ticket. I looked up and saw a fellow standing there, about 30
years old, not bad looking, and strangely familiar. He asked if he could join
me and I said ok. My face probably said, "fuck off", but the works came out
"ok". The first thing he said was did I remember him. I said no. He said to
think back about 2 to 3 months, to the park about 18 miles away. I dropped my
fork. He was the "blower". I asked what I could do for him, trying to be as
professional as possible. My face was now yelling fuck off. He said he just
wanted to thank me for not making a big deal out of that traffic stop a few
months ago. He assured me that he didn't make a point of taking men out to the
park to blow them, and he apologized for making me feel so damned uncomfortable.
As it turned out, the guy getting the blowjob was a local businessman, who's
life came complete with wife and 2.5 kids.
We talked. And talked. I became less aware of the fact that this guy was gay
and more aware of the fact that he was a really interesting person. He didn't
look gay (now that I've met more gay men, I realize just how stupid that sounds.
But that was me and it was about 1975). I overstayed my allowed dinner break.
The boss would no doubt mention it, so I'd have to think of a story of how I was
sitting there solving the Kennedy assassination. Yeah, he was stupid enough to
buy that.
Fast-forward again, four months this time.
Young and foolish, free, single and bored, I find myself at a roadhouse out on
the highway out of town, drinking my face off. What the hell, no fellow officer
would stop me for drunk driving, so I can sit here and get shitfaced if I feel
like it. One o'clock in the morning and its time to drag my ass off of the bar
stool and head home. I stand there in the parking lot, weighing (with the last
functioning brain cell in my cranium) the heavy consequences of driving home and
killing myself and someone else, or calling a taxi. Being drunk, I actually
have to think about it for more than five seconds. A car rolls to a stop before
my swaying stature. A voice calls out from the driver's side, "Hey, you look
like you need a ride". It was him again. The blower. The lip man. The lip
lock on a love muscle man. I make an instant decision. Getting a ride home
from him was better than wrapping my car around a pole. Ok, thanks pal. I'm
in.
His name was Fred. Funny he didn't mention it the last time we met. He
certainly couldn't mention it the first time me met because it's not polite to
talk with your mouth full. Honestly, this is the stuff that's going through my
mind as we are driving down the road. And he wonders why I am giggling. Ah,
the wonders of beer.
We get to my place and sit in the driveway and talk for a bit. There's NO
fucking way I'm inviting this guy in. So we talk. And talk. And talk. Both
of us being guys, the topic gets around to sex after a bit. And we talk some
more. I actually open up and start to discuss his "gayness".
More talking. I'm standing beside the car having a piss on my lawn. And back
to talking. Blowjobs now become the point of discussion. I suppose it was
inevitable that he'd mention that guys give better head than women. I was still
pissed so I laughed. And we kept talking about it. It happened. He offered.
And guess what! After 62 gallons of beer (pissing out 63 gallons), an hour
about talking about sex and head in particular, I start to think, "What the
hell". Should I, shouldn't I.? I solved the dilemma by glancing around to make
sure the neighbor's lights were all out, undoing my zipper and hauling Mr.
Friendly out. Semi-hard, happy as a clam, and definitely out of my pants. Fred
smiled and said to just relax and let him do everything.
Ok, let me start off by saying that I've received blowjobs from
professionals. Yes, pros. As in hookers. The hottest girls in college had
sucked me off. I've had the best head that could be had. But NOTHING prepared
me for the blowjob that Fred was giving me. He was, and I believe the technical
term is, un-fucking-believable! He started off just licking it for probably
three and a half weeks (ok, so it just seemed like that), and when I thought I
couldn't take anymore, he slipped my bone into his wet mouth and sucked me dry.
When I finally came, I think I woke up the neighborhood. I blew my load and he
swallows the whole thing. All of it. Every drop. I love it.
When I finally caught my breath, I felt compelled to thank him, which only
invoked peels of laughter. He said he was the one who should thank me. We
talked a bit longer. Exchanged phone numbers. Promised that this had been a
one-shot thing. And he left.
All the next week I was racked with guilt about having received a blowjob from
another guy.
All the week after, I was thinking of calling him.
I finally did, and our meetings became a regular thing. I'd go over to his
place. He would suck my cock while we watched porno movies. We both got naked,
but I only touched him one or two times. Actually got up the nerve to jerk him
off once too.
A year later, Fred moved away. Two years later, I married. I'm still
married, and if my wife didn't give the best blowjobs in the world, I'd
probably use my police connections to find Fred and hook up with him again.
Sometimes I still think of him when I'm sitting on the toilet and jerking off.
Fred, if you read this, you'll know who wrote it. Give me a call sometime.
