An earlier version of this story, based on real events, was previously published in an erotica blog. All characters are 21 years old or older.
I admit it - when I left my apartment that Friday night, I had one goal and one goal only: to get a stranger’s dick in my mouth.
I didn’t need to know the man’s name, or what he did for a living. He just needed to be hot, hard, and horny. And oh, yeah, ready to fuck a load down my throat.
This wasn’t my usual modus operandi. I fit the description of shy nerd to a T. But after playing a game of are-we-or-aren’t-we for a few months with yet another guy, I got sucker punched with the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. I got dumped….if you could even say we were dating in the first place.
Fuck every gay dude in Chicago, man.
I was in scorched earth mode. I managed to somehow make it through Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I put on a convincing face and floated through my work days, avoiding coworkers.
Friday came and I took a mental health day. I stayed at home, watched game shows and soap operas, and fell asleep at 4 in the afternoon. When I woke up, it was 7 o’clock.
I was angry and confused and feral. It was time to go out on the prowl. I slid the tightest t-shirt I had over my beefy torso, dug out my shortest gym shorts, and headed out.
I didn’t know most of the cruising spots well. I’d never been to Steamworks, and Man’s Country was kinda scary. Banana Video was closer to my apartment, but aside from one hot jerk off session with a tall, lanky blond guy, that place had been empty every other time I’d gone.
Time to try something new - the Bijou, the big porn theater in Old Town.
An hour later, I jumped off the 22 Clark and walked over to Wells. As I walked down Wells, I saw a scowling police officer a few doors down from the theater. He was very tall with graying hair, built like a fucking tank. He stared as I walked inside the theater.
I spent a while walking around the Bijou, but nothing was happening. I’d never been there before, but from all the stories friends told me and all the stories I’d read in porn magazines, I thought it would be filled with horny guys on a Friday night.
That ended up being dumb fantasies on my part, wishful thinking that some bored stock traders types from the Loop would stop by to feed me, their suits and ties splattered with their own cum. Instead, it was me and an elderly guy who was half asleep on his chair.
It was hot and muggy in the theater, and I was getting sweaty and uncomfortable. Oh well….I tried.
I hit the street and walked to the Brown Line el stop I’d planned to use to head back. But it was closed and locked.
Wait, at 10 at night on a Friday? That can’t be right.
I tried to shake the doors open, throwing my weight against the door, hoping it was just stuck.
“Hey, jagoff, can’t you read?”
I turned around and looked up. It was the same cop from before, the dude built like a tank. The one with no discernible facial expression.
Oh, fuck. This night was moving from bad to worse.
“Sorry, officer, I apologize. Just panicked for a second. Didn’t realize it was closed.”
“You lost?”
“No, officer. But I’d planned to get back home that way, so I gotta figure out where to go.”
I looked up at the cop’s face. An old friend would have called him “bruto bello” - so rough looking the roughness was actually captivating and beautiful. He had blue-gray eyes, and a look from his was so piercing I couldn’t maintain eye contact.
“Couldn’t have been a busy night in the theater for you…you’re back outside already.” I could pick up a slight accent.
He stepped closer to me, his uniform only a few feet from my sweat-stained t-shirt. Damn, he had to be at least 6 ft 6, if not taller.
I looked at his name tag, a long name - Polish? Eastern European? - with twenty letters and one or two vowels.
The officer sniffed the air near me.
“You smell like the inside of my shorts, kid.”
He said what now?
Was he trying to entrap me? Was he flirting? The Emotionless Tank cracked the tiniest smile, and somehow, the words found their way to my mouth and escaped.
“I don’t know what that smells like, Officer.”
The cop reached over and put a hand on my shoulder.
“You wanna find out, cocksucker?”
I nodded fast, and the officer motioned me toward his car.
I put my hand on one of the rear doors, but he whistled at me. “Yo - front seat.”
My hands were shaking and sweating, but I opened the door and got inside. Officer Vkskskywhateveritwas answered a radio call as we drove away from Wells. A few blocks later, he pulled up behind some old factory building.
The cop put his car in park, turned off the engine, and reached over to me, rubbing my thigh. “Don’t worry. Nothing here but a good time.”
Both hands reached over to me and pulled my face closer, as Officer Tank put his lips on mine, kissing me. I was shocked as hell. Fuck, he could kiss. I thought I’d cum right then and there, this big man on me like that. He tasted amazing, and his scent had me so horny.
He reached over, unbuckled and unzipped with his left hand, a move so swift and easy it hit me: oh yeah, this isn’t the first time he’s done this.
I gasped a little when his dick popped out. That dick matched its owner in scope, length and girth.
“C’mon, cocksucker. It’s been a few weeks. Fuckin’ eat my dick.”
I could feel his big right hand guiding my head up and down on his shaft. I focused on breathing and making sure I was working my tongue on his shaft, keeping my mouth real tight. The more I tasted him the more I wanted it, wanted more, wanted to smell like the inside of his shorts.
The cop started muttering something and….it sounded like another language. Polish? Russian? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care. I wanted to taste every inch of him. While his dick was in my mouth, I fantasized about him in my mind’s eye, me on my back, him on top of me stretching me open, riding me, breeding me, completely filling all of my senses.
His dick started throbbing and I could feel his balls tighten up. I didn’t know what he was saying but he was loud and exuberant and I knew I was about to get my mouth flooded with cum.
He roared so loudly I was momentarily startled, until I felt the blasts of cum filling my mouth, and I took every drop, gulped it down, savoring the salty, sweet taste, cleaning his dick off carefully, reluctant to let him go when he reached for his zipper.
“No more,” he said, softly, rubbing my wrist gently. “No more this time.”
He asked my address. I told him he could just drop me near a Brown Line stop, but he shook his head. I gave him my address. It was in Ravenswood, a long drive from where we were, but he was a gentleman.
As we got closer to my apartment, he let his hand rest on his crotch, and I could see he was hard again. “Wish I had time,” he growled. “I have more for you now.”
When we stopped at my place, he handed me a piece of paper and a pen to write down my phone number and name. I gave my real phone and my nickname.
I thanked him for the ride and got out, but he called me back to his car window. “Next time. Next time I’ll fuck you.”
Sadly, he never called me or stopped by again. I wish he had. For weeks....hell, months afterwards, I fantasized about having that officer's big raw dick in me just about every night.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve jerked off thinking about this guy since it happened. A guy I can’t track down, because I was too nervous to remember his name.
Not so long after it happened, I was sharing a ride with someone and told them about Hot Cop. He got so worked up hearing what happened that he pulled his dick out and made me repeat the story until he blasted all over the steering wheel.
Every once in a while, when I’m jacking off and getting close, even now, all these years later....I think of what he said, how he sounded as he was filling my mouth with spurt after spurt, and it always makes me cum.
