By Hornblower
He was an impressive sight-six foot two of uniformed arrogance with his leather jacket open to the waist revealing a starched blue shirt stretched across a broad chest and rippled stomach, and tight blue motorcycle trousers hugging his muscular thighs. I reckoned he was about 24, but he could have been younger. Whatever his age, he was definitely all man.
He was studying the traffic in the main street, eyes watchful behind dark glasses, standing with his legs astride and his arms folded in front of him. He looked bloody good, and he knew it.
I run a backpackers' hostel in the old lighthouse keepers' cottage at Rawson's Promontory about thirty kilometres out of town near the South Australian border. The guys on highway patrol often drop by for a coffee when they're passing so I know most of the local cops, but this one was new in town.
I nodded to him as I walked past but he made no response and it was impossible to tell if he had noticed me. He sure as hell was a hot looking guy-an Adonis in uniform, and I couldn't get the picture of him out of my mind as I headed my old Ford utility onto the highway for the long drive home.
I was about ten kilometres down the highway when I realised that he was following me. The white highway patrol bike was instantly recognisable in the rear mirror and instinctively I checked my speed, though I was comfortably within the limit. He stayed behind me for about five kilometres, making no attempt to close the distance between us, and I continued to drive warily with one eye on the speedometer. The road crosses the railway at a little place called Warrambul and I slowed, touching the brakes, to check there were no trains coming before accelerating across the tracks. As I did so I saw the red and blue lamps on his bike start to flash and heard the wail of the siren. Within moments he was alongside the ute, waving me over to the side of the road.
He parked the bike in front of me, taking his time. As he removed his helmet long strands of straight blond hair fell forward across his forehead and he flicked them back into place with the arrogance of a stallion shaking its mane. He walked slowly towards me, and I wondered what I had done to cause him to pull me over.
I wound down the window as he approached. He bent forward so that his face was level with mine. Close to he was even more handsome than I had thought with smooth, nicely tanned skin and high cheekbones. His eyes were a light blue and he had full, rather sensuous lips.
"Good afternoon, Sir."
"Good afternoon, Officer."
"May I see your driver's licence?" He was impeccably polite.
I removed the licence from my wallet and handed it to him. He took it from me and then stood close up against my open window while he straightened to read it. His crotch was now level with my face, and I was treated to a magnificent view of his huge genitals just inches away, so clearly defined that I was certain he couldn't be wearing anything beneath the tight stretched fabric of his trousers.
All too quickly he bent down again bringing his face back level with mine, still holding my licence.
"Thank you, Sir. Are you aware that your nearside brake light isn't working?"
"Isn't it? I'm sorry. I didn't realise."
"You should get it fixed."
"I will," I promised. "It's going in for a service next week. I'll get it done then."
"Good, in that case I needn't take matters any further." He handed me back the licence and as he did so it sounded as if he added, "and I want to fuck you."
I was so flustered the licence slipped out of my hand and fell at his feet. Had he really said what I thought he had?
"Did you say...?" I let the words trail off. I must have been mistaken.
"I said I won't forget you, Sir. You have been most co-operative." He reached down and picked up the licence.
"A nice spot, Rawson's Promontory," he said glancing at my address as he handed it to me, though I had a feeling that he had already noted it.
"Yes," I said. "Feel free to drop in for coffee. Your colleagues do sometimes when they're on patrol down my way."
I'm usually pretty busy in summer because the hostel is near the beginning of a hiking track and I get a lot of bushwalkers come through, but it's different in the off-season when there aren't so many tourists around, and it's good to have someone to chat with
"Not for me, thank you all the same. Not coffee. It's bad for you."
"Well, maybe something else."
He raised one blond eyebrow, and allowed himself the slightest of smiles.
"Yes," he said. "Maybe something else."
I watched as he walked back to the bike, my eyes fixed on the movement of his muscular buttocks, splendid in the tight, constraining blue fabric of his uniform trousers. Had he really said he wanted to fuck me? My cock was hard at the thought of it and it stayed that way until I got home.
I found it difficult to get him out of my mind after that. I made a couple of trips to the supermarket in town and looked out hopefully in the main street but there was no sign of him and each time I returned home disappointed. I kept thinking of what he had said, trying to decide if I had misheard him. At thirty I'm still in good shape and my pretty boy looks haven't yet deserted me, but why would he want to fuck me when probably he had every bitch in town lusting for him? He was a strapping, fair-haired macho cop and he looked very, very straight, but I make no secret about being gay and sometimes that's a turn-on for the so-called straight boys. They say it pays to advertise, and if he did want to fuck me he wouldn't be the first supposedly straight guy I'd had slip it in the back way when his mates weren't around to know about it.
I began to fantasise about him pulling me over to the side of the road. He would make me get out so that he could strip search me then when I was naked and defenceless he would whisper that he wanted to fuck me and he would force me over the saddle of his police motorbike and shove his enormous cock into me. That got me hard thinking about it, I can tell you, and he had me jacking off two or three times a day.
It was about a month later that a storm closed the main highway down past the Promontory. The black clouds began rolling in around four o'clock and within an hour the full brunt of it hit, first the lightning strikes so close that there was barely a second's grace before the deafening thunderclaps that followed, and then the sheeting rain driven by a wind that came howling in from the ocean like a thousand wailing banshees. During the height of the storm the power went off and I lit candles. I've got an old wood stove in the kitchen which meant that at least I would be able to cook a meal, and thankfully it was late in the season so there were no guests staying.
About seven o'clock I thought I heard a motorbike and then, after a minute or two, what sounded like the roller door of my garage being opened and closed but it was difficult to be sure over the noise of the storm. A loud rap at the door let me know that I had a visitor. I took a torch and went to see who it was.
My motorcycle policeman was standing on the veranda dripping water, his drenched uniform clinging to him in the most interesting places.
"I hope you don't mind," he said. "I've put the bike in your garage out of the storm."
"Of course not," I said. "Come in."
He followed me into the house.
"We had better get you out of those wet things."
I showed him the bathroom and went to get some more candles. By the time I returned he had stripped down to the briefest of G-strings. His leather jacket, gun holster and belt were hanging from the coat hook behind the door and the rest of his uniform was in a damp pile on the floor. He was an awesome sight as the candlelight played on his sculpted body and I could see that his cock, clearly outlined in the bulging wet G-string, was every bit as huge as I had thought it was when he had stood up close against the window of my ute the first time I met him.
"Well," he said. "We meet again."
"You remembered me then," I said rather lamely.
"Of course. Didn't I say that I wouldn't forget you?" He smirked. "Or did you think I said that I wanted to fuck you?"
"Well, yes..."
"And I suppose you've been thinking about me ever since?" As he spoke, he rubbed his hand across his cock, causing it to stir beneath the thin fabric. "I bet you've been thinking about me thrusting my big cock right up you."
"Well..."
"Of course you have. I bet you've been having wet dreams about me ever since I said I wanted to fuck you. Most gay guys want me to fuck them. "
God, he was arrogant, but he was also fucking gorgeous and right at that moment I wanted him to arse fuck me more than anything I had ever wanted before.
"I need a shower. Do you have hot water?"
I nodded. "Yes, the power's been off for a while but the tank will still be hot. Make yourself at home."
"Thank you," he said. "It looks like I'm here for the night. There's a tree across the road at Warrambul and it would be too dangerous to ride the bike in this weather anyway. We'll just have to keep ourselves amused until the storm clears." Again he ran his hand meaningfully over his cock, then slipped the G-string down, letting it bounce free. It really was huge-probably a good seven inches on the slack and thick around like a salami.
He tossed the G-string on the pile with his damp uniform.
"You can put that lot through the dryer for me."
"There's no power," I reminded him. "I'll hang it by the kitchen stove."
"Do you like my body?" He was preening in the candlelight, flexing his big pecs and biceps, then turning for me to admire his back and tight-clenched buttocks. His thighs were huge, like massive hams, covered with curls of wiry blond hair that grew more profusely towards his crotch and his ample pubic bush, and his balls were heavy and low hung, in proportion with his massive uncut rod.
I reached out a hand, running it admiringly down the smoothness of his broad back and feeling the firmness of his buttocks.
"I'll let you give me a massage if you like. See if you've got some oil." It was a command, and I resented slightly the way he was taking charge in my own home but I went obediently to the cupboard where I keep a large bottle of Johnson's baby oil with my other sex toys. He spotted a couple of butt plugs and picked up the larger of them, which he handed to me.
"Put this in. You'll need to be well stretched when I fuck you--I'm very big." Again, it was a command and again I obeyed, finding a tube of lubricant to smear on the plug, a wicked-looking eight-incher with a circumference to match. I slipped off my clothes and inserted it into my hole. The first part was easy enough but the last few inches or so were deceptively wide and I wasn't relaxed enough. I started to pull it out again but he grabbed my hand and held it there.
"It has to go right in," he said. I clenched my teeth as he forced the wide part of the plug past my sphincter but once it was in it wasn't so bad and as usual I began to enjoy the sensation of having it inside me.
"I'm going to have my shower now," he said. "You can get on with what you were doing."
With the plug still in me I went back to the kitchen where I set up a drying rack for his uniform next to the stove. The damp trousers had retained his body odour and I buried my face in the crotch, revelling in his man smell. I wanted to try them on, but I was afraid that he might come back and catch me. Not that they would have fitted me. They were stretched to fit his huge legs--just as I was being stretched to fit his huge cock.
I heard the shower water go off and a few minutes later he came wandering into the kitchen, totally naked except for a bath towel draped across his shoulders.
"That feels better," he said. "You get sweaty on the bike all day. With big balls like mine it can be pretty uncomfortable. It's good to get the uniform off and let them hang."
As far as I was concerned he looked pretty good in the uniform or out of it and I was almost drooling at the naked display of his big, beefy body.
He went over to the refrigerator and helped himself to a carton of orange juice.
"Do you mind?"
"No. There's a beer there if you would rather."
"No thanks. I don't touch alcohol."
"Do you mind if I have one?"
What effect was this man having on me that I was asking his permission to drink a can of beer in my own home?
I took a can from the refrigerator and flipped the ring pull.
"Cheers!"
"Cheers."
He raised his carton of orange juice then came and stood close to me, looking down into my face.
"You're going to be my whore tonight."
The words sent a tremor through me. He had been taking command from the moment he walked in the door and now he had casually reduced me to the status of his slut. I felt a tingling of anticipation in my lower abdomen that I hadn't felt since I was a teenager new to the joys of sex. If this hunk of a man wanted a whore, then I would be his whore and I would let him to do to me whatever he wanted.
With one hand he grabbed my hair, forcing my head back, then kissed me hard on the lips, forcing his tongue into my mouth. With his other hand he grabbed my butt, massaging it roughly, and pulling me up close against him.
"How many men have fucked you, whore?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, quite a few. Who's counting?"
He brought his big hand down and smacked me hard on the buttocks.
"Wrong answer, whore. Try again. How many men have fucked you?"
"Shit, I don't know. Maybe a hundred."
He smacked me harder and it really hurt.
"Wrong."
"What do you want me to say?"
Another hard smack.
"How many?"
"I told you. Maybe a hundred, maybe more. I've fucked around a bit."
This time he delivered ten hard blows in quick succession.
"I'll tell you how many men have fucked you, whore."
He continued to smack me, the blows raining down hard and fast until my arse was on fire.
"The answer is none. Zero. You've never been fucked by a man. Not a real man. Tonight's going to be your first one."
He pushed me away from him contemptuously.
"Now go and get ready. You'll need towels on the bed for the massage and plenty of lube for when I fuck you. And you'd better give yourself an enema--I expect my whore to be clean."
Once everything was prepared to his satisfaction he lay face down on the bed, head cradled on his folded arms, his magnificent body stretched out and ready for my ministrations. I poured a liberal amount of baby oil onto his back and starting with his shoulders, began a slow and sensuous massage. From his shoulders I worked down his broad back then moved to his calves and began to work my way back up his body towards his thighs. I could feel him relax as my fingers worked the tension out of his muscles. Just to touch him was exciting and my cock was rock hard.
Outside, the storm was still raging but inside, in the flickering light of the candles, the scene was one of total sensuality as I continued to rub my hands up and down his hairy thighs, working closer and closer to his gorgeous butt. He moved his legs apart, opening up his crack to reveal his hole and I responded by burying my face in it, rimming him frantically and causing him to writhe beneath me. He was making small moans of pleasure as my tongue probed into him while my hands continued to pummel the two firm mounds of his arse. He was pushing down hard forcing open his sphincter, sucking my tongue right into him so that I was licking deep inside him seeking his sensitive prostate gland and sending tremors through his whole body.
He began moaning more loudly, his big muscular body trembling uncontrollably, and I knew that now he was mine. I was his whore and he had dominated me in my own home, but his ultimate pleasure would be mine to command. He was mine to be led slowly through each mounting stage of ecstasy until that moment of climax when I alone would permit his release.
I withdrew my tongue and for perhaps half an hour or more I worked the inside of his thighs, playing with the twirls of wiry hair and working slowly towards his massive balls finally touching them so delicately with the tip of my tongue that, like the kiss of a butterfly, it was barely a touch at all--yet sensuous enough to reduce him in an instant from a domineering stud to a quivering jellyfish.
I rolled him over onto his back and he lay there passively, his massive cock hard and throbbing with rampant desire. It was huge--at least nine or ten inches long but with a thicker shaft than anything I had ever seen before. As I said, I've been fucked by a hundred men, but this was truly awesome, a genuine prince among cocks and well worthy of the magnificent body to which it was attached. I ran my hand up and down its splendid length getting the measure of it.
"Are you ready to fuck me?" I whispered and he grabbed at me eagerly but I was teasing, and I pushed him away.
"Not yet," I said. "We've waited all these weeks. A little bit longer isn't going to hurt."
Now I went to work on his nipples, running my tongue lightly around the perimeter of each. They were big and brown against his broad chest, the nipples firm and erect, and I teased them until he pleaded with me to stop. I let my tongue work downwards to his navel and then on into his wondrous pubic bush until at last I came to his pulsating cock. Starting at the base I licked slowly up the shaft to the glans, tonguing the sensitive rim with the merest of butterfly touches then working back down to his balls. I did this a hundred times until the tensing of his body told me that he was almost at the point of climax but I held him there, one hand on his massive balls the other on his cock.
"I'm going to come!" he yelled but I pulled away from him, squeezing his balls hard at the same time so that he screamed in agony.
"Not yet," I said. "You're not ready." I had brought him almost to the brink but not quite, now I had to bring him down again until it was time. I let go of his balls and he relaxed slightly but I left my hand between his legs to remind him that I was in control. He knew now that my hand could cause him agony as easily as it could the ecstasy of a butterfly's touch.
I laid down against him, my face close to his, brushing my lips against his, giving him a caressing kiss on the cheek, then bringing my mouth to his ear I began to nibble the lobe. He grabbed me tightly, pulling me to him, returning my kisses in a frenzy of passion. But even as my mouth caressed him my hand held tightly to his balls, slowly increasing the pressure so that his body tensed and he writhed and groaned in my embrace. He was stronger than me and he could easily have stopped me, but I sensed that he wanted it, that he was enjoying a new dimension to his lovemaking that he hadn't experienced before. I squeezed harder and he brought our mouths together, thrusting his tongue into me, grunting now with animal lust as pain and pleasure merged and his body became a crucible of conflicting emotions.
I pulled away from him.
"How many men have you fucked?" I whispered.
"A few."
I squeezed his balls harder.
"How many?"
"I don't know. I said a few. Quite a few, maybe."
Again I squeezed harder and he screamed, his body doubling up with pain. He grabbed at my hand, trying to pull it away from his balls but I was relentless. My grip was like a vice.
"How many real men?"
"NONE!"
"Who will be the first?"
"You will!"
I released the pressure on his balls. We were equals now.
"Let's fuck," I whispered and I moved into position on top and facing him, knees either side of his hips, lowering my arse onto his cock, opening myself up to take it inside of me. God it was huge but I've had giant cocks up me before and it was just a matter of taking it slowly, letting the tight muscle of the sphincter stretch itself to the dimensions of the massive intruder. Inch by inch I worked myself down onto him until I had taken it all and I was sitting astride him with mu buttocks resting on his thighs. He had his eyes closed and a look of total rapture on his face as he abandoned himself to pleasure.
Slowly I lifted myself back up his length until there was just an inch or so of him still inside me, then lowered myself more rapidly onto him, starting to develop a rhythm that would dictate the tempo of our lovemaking. He responded by grabbing my waist and thrusting upwards with his powerful hips so that our bodies were working in unison. He was actually using his enormous strength to lift me and then forcing me down again to meet the upward lunges of his pelvis. It was an incredible performance all the more so as we began to intensify our action and his cock began ramming into me like a piston. The contortions of his face told me that his climax was close and I knew that my own was equally near. We came together with one last mighty thrust of his cock that sent us both over the brink. I could feel his cock spasm deep inside me as his balls released jet after jet of semen while my own jism came in great creamy spurts that landed on his chest and abdomen. I began to lift myself off him, expecting his cock to go soft before it popped out, but he held me firmly around the waist not allowing me to move.
"We haven't finished," he said. He was taking control again. With his cock still hard inside me he made me swivel round to face away from him then pushed me forward, rolling with me so that he was on top. With barely even a pause to get his breath back from our earlier exertions he began to fuck me doggy style, using all the strength of his hips and his muscular buttocks to pound his cock into me almost brutally, holding me firmly at the waist and pulling me onto him with each upward thrust. He fucked hard and relentlessly and even for a guy with all my experience it wasn't too easy to take. I was moaning like a teenager getting it for the first time, and he loved it.
"What's the matter whore, can't you take a real man?"
"I can take anything you can give," I grunted and he laughed, ramming it into me even harder. It was a rough fuck, but I didn't want it to end.
"Yeah FUCK ME!" I shouted. "Give me that cock."
I don't know how long we went--I lost all track of time. The world around us had ceased to exist. There was just this relentless piston of rock hard flesh pounding into me. The two of us were one, and our only sensation was the ultimate gratification of our lust. Again, miraculously, we climaxed together and it was as of every other climax I'd ever had was but a practice for this one.
We flopped together on the bed and he cradled me in his big arms, hugging me tightly.
When I woke up the storm was long gone and the sun was high in the sky. He was still holding me, his great strong body cuddled up against me. A shaft of sunlight, filtered by the window blind, was falling across his face and his straw blond hair, making him look more like a little boy than a big, tough cop. I ran my fingers through his hair and he stirred. He opened his eyes slowly, taking stock of his surroundings, then a broad smile creased his face.
"That was the best," he said. "Let's fuck all morning."
He was a cop and I was his whore. How could I possibly say no?
Copyright Hornblower 2002