The One You Call Your Daddy Ain't Your Pa

There was a silence in the room that not even lightning striking the front lawn could have broken. His last sentence revolved through the air as if on a pennant being waved.

"You, old man, you're  a cock sucking ass hole and you old lady are a fucking cunt". 

We all stood exactly where we'd been hoping, or his mother and I did, that this was an apparition, not our son but, of course it was.
She wasn't even chocking back tears but said, "I'll give you 24 hours to leave this house. Take whatever you want that's yours. Just....go." Good thing she said something because my juices were swelling to the point that I would not have beat the shit out of him, I'd have killed him, thrown the corpse on the lawn then called the cops and the trash collection service.

Jody stood there, all six feet two inches of his handsome self. Jeans so tight his cock and balls looked as if they'd just stepped behind a curtain for a moment, his hair, long and deep brown, had stopped waving. The room was still. He looked at us, pushed his crotch at us, walked casually up the stairs only remember to give us the finger. 

Martha had one more instruction, "Leave through the back door." And then she fell on me, still not crying, not looking into my eyes, but holding the man who for 25 years she'd always held on to. Finally, as the shock and decision to kill lessened I remembered to put my arms around her. That's when we both cried. 

It was weeks, maybe two months, later when Charlie, my best bud from High School and there on dropped in. We'd almost finished university together save he became a Marine for twelve years so his graduation was delayed that much. Jobs were dangled in front of him but he elected to become a cop. As he said, "Fuck, Bill, I wouldn't know what to do if I had work in which I couldn't carry a gun."

One of his signatures was his cowboy boots which he now swung up on my desk, leaned back and we began the old talk, the familiar talk that two men have that reassures both all is pretty much the same. "Heard you tossed the little bastard out. Good move."
"Martha beat me to the punch, if she hadn't we'd be having this conversation downtown in my cell. I'd have pled guilty and asked for the death penalty. Course you, you SOB, would have tried to talk me out of it, said out of brotherly love, you'd rather shoot me."
"Sounds about right. yeah, I would have." He paused and seemed like a man who'd given up smoking but now regretted it. I could see him pull the pack out of his shirt pocket, tap one out, flick the Zippo and enjoy that first burst of carcinogen like the best Kentucky Bourbon.
"Seen the little shit since that day?"
"Nope, he must have had leaving in mind or he's the fastest packer in the world. Two hours later some person, I almost said friend, came by with a pickup, they loaded it, he jumped in the 'Vette and that was the last of him. We count our good luck every day. Apart from two broken hearts, all it did was cost us money. 

Charlie took another puff on his imaginary cigarette then turned it into his palm, Marine style to show no light. "Ever wonder what he's up to?"
"Cut to the chase, since you're going to tell me anyway."
"Hooking."

Well, that was a statement to stop me. I was sure of what he meant but....I wasn't sure I'd absorbed what he meant. "You mean like...on the street, leaning against a wall, his cock and balls more or less on view?"
"Nah, not him, there's no money in that, even doing outcalls he can't make enough to pay the insurance on that souped up money eater plus the taxes and, you paid the bills, so you know what it costs to keep him up."

Over the past several weeks I'd compiled a rather extensive list of what he'd cost us, not including doctors and dentists, food but what we'd put out for what he wanted or, really stupid, what we thought if he had, he'd be satisfied. I reached in a desk drawer and pulled out a bound copy of what I'd come up with. 

After reading the first two pages, Charlie was laughing and I knew why. He was right to laugh. We'd made ourselves chumps and that's why I made the list, to remind myself that the next time I saw something wounded or in need of my help, I'd look very carefully. Maybe call my buddy to get a cop viewpoint.

I looked at him, clearly there was more but he was too entranced by the things and their costs to bother to get back to me.
"Hey, bone head, you didn't come here to scuff my desk and read my embarrassment. What's up?"
"Sorry, but this is a lot more interesting than the narratives we usually get in interrogation. I can look at them and know what they next sentence or two will be. But okay, Jody has definitely found the way to what he thinks is big bucks." 

Here I might have disagreed. Over the years we'd unfortunately trained him to expect things that were expensive, definitely in the big bucks area. "How much is 'big bucks' ".
"Well, to date, he's collected about twenty five grand. Cash."
Since Jody had no skills, no talents, I was at sea wondering what he possibly do, legal or otherwise, to get that kind of money.
"I'm  eliminating getting a real job, even a part time job."
"Good call, you're right on the money, he never even applied for one."
I was wildly searching through my mind. "He had some money when he left the house and some in the bank as well as a credit card. I cancelled that one and paid off the remaining balance, about six, eight hundred dollars. He couldn't take his stash to a casino, he doesn't know how to wager...."

"Nope, I mean, he may have gone to a casino but that's not where the big bucks were."
"Nobody'd be dumb enough to just....give him money, even if he asked. Our family, our friends all knew the score long before the final set to and they wouldn't help him. You'd know if he crapped up in a cop shop somewhere......"
"How has he lived his life right up to the moment you, mustn't forget Martha-I like that lady-threw him out?"
I had to think a thought I didn't want to think but it was just the truth. "We paid for him."
"Bingo! You paid for him and now he's found someone else to pay for him."

"No one could have been dumber than we were.......he doesn't know how to do anything......"
"Can he fuck?"
As with all fathers, I'd caught him jacking off a few times but...that was harmless, he'd caught me doing the same thing. Matter of fact, once we'd done it together, an activity Martha would never know."
"You said he wasn't hooking...."
"He's not although on occasion, his, uh, sponsor lets him work at an all male strip club. Very successfully I hear."

Charlie saying he'd heard something was akin  to saying I know it and I can prove it.
"Want to go out clubbing some evening. I hear the Club Adonis in Dallas makes a real good Margarita, they say the floor show isn't bad either."
"Dallas? How'd he get to Dallas?"
"How fast is that car of his, that's how he got to Dallas where he made friends of a certain sort very, very quickly. After all, he was the new boy and, face it, who doesn't want to be the first to fuck a virgin?"
"This I know, that kid was no virgin."
"Well, maybe not to girls but what about men, and your son is no kid. He's a man, his nuts have dropped."
"So, when do we go? I've got an old buddy from the Corp who's with the cops there, he can make a lot possible. A....Lot."

Charlie wanted an answer right then and there and I was unprepared to give him one. It blew past me that I should discuss this with Martha but thought better of it. She would be alternately traumatized and disgusted. Probably she'd find out but I wasn't going to tell her. Not that there was a better way but just to walk in whistling and say, "Hey honey, we don't need to worry about the kid, he's selling his ass in Dallas." She'd take that very well, yes indeed.
"Okay, I'm up for a road trip. When do we go?"
"I'll have to get his schedule and get back to you."

He looked right at me. This isn't something I want to do, hope you know that, but you and Martha are about as important to me as anyone on God's green earth, never married because of the two of you; You were my brother, brother in law, son, father and Martha was my wife, sister, mother, just never my mother-in-law. 'Sides, you got great grub at your place." With that, his boots hit the floor and he hit the door. 

I didn't go straight home, I didn't go anywhere save to just ride. Charlie and I, and some of our buddies in High School, had ridden motorcycles much against the combined wailings of many mothers. The Dads, however, got right with it. Their stated reason was that bikes were cheap to buy, cheap to operate and saved the family from buying another car for a teen aged driver. Statistically, the worst drivers, those most likely to suffer grave damage or death are.....teen aged boys/men riding motorcycles. a fact that was kicked under the table where the ladies weren't likely to find them or read them. Mercifully, this was just at the dawning of the internet so that sort of fact, so easily gotten now, was less accessible then. I was up on my BMW 1200 and, if Charlie had been with me, he'd have his Harley with the shiny side up. Came to me that, what the hell, why not take the bikes to Dallas? That idea settled into accomplished fact, I rode home and into our sunny kitchen where Martha and Charlie were baking biscuits.

I slapped him on the ass and made the head nod sign that all men recognize as, "come with me, I need to speak to you in private." He bought the idea about as quickly as the syllables came out of my mouth, never thought he wouldn't.
Back in the kitchen, we had a  mutual soap and sell job to do. Checking that dinner wasn't anything that couldn't be served the next night, Charlie said he was feeling real close to us, for whatever reason, and what the hell, lets go out to dinner. As could be expected she looked at him as if he'd gone daft, mentioned that dinner was fixed, all but served and....the ladies excuses, she hadn't had her hair done, she didn't have anything to wear.....To which our cop buddy said that he knew dark places with good food in which she could have worn a bag from Walmart and nobody would notice. It wasn't the most persuasive argument, but she agreed. 

Dinner, which really was good, was served in a place that looked as if the Health Department had avoided it for decades. And, as promised, it was dark inside-we had to look closely to see if what we'd ordered was what we'd got. The, uh, server, had used a flashlight to show us the menu. First of course, were....drinks. As we'd strolled past the bar on our way in I noticed Charlie show the guy behind the bar his badge and said something to him. When our drinks arrived, I found that I was sipping a cocktail that could have been served at a church social, as was Charlie, and my lovely wife had Scotch on very few rocks. For the next round, she switched to what we were having and I chose not to think what was in it. 

A few hours later Martha had not only agreed to our run on the bikes but decided it was a damn fine idea, get me out of the house while she did something or other. To her credit, she made it to the car, a bit wobbly, but game and even up the steps when we got home. For all sorts of good reasons, I was up and out very, very early the next morning on the theory that she might want some quiet time. Also, by the time I got home, she might feel a bit better and wouldn't have to confess to me that she'd been a weensy bit hungover.

I called Charlie at the police station and left a vulgar message that made the guy, who took it and  knew me, laugh.

It took a day or two to get all the correct information but when we had it, our target was a Saturday night about ten days away. That gave us adequate time to get ready, make the drive and not end up in Big D suffering from too long on the road with no time to get ready for what we wanted to do. Charlie's buddy in Dallas said he had an idea that was Primo, off the chain, couldn't be better but we'd have to roar in to get it. He also said we could park the bikes in the secure area where they kept their bikes and loan us a car normally used for surveillance. 

I had time to think this whole thing through and not just the ride, that was easy. The hard part was....why was I even going? Did I love my son? Well, at some level yes but not enough to do anything unless I truly thought he was in serious trouble and if he were, the cops in Dallas would have told Charlie. I wanted to meet the man who was stupid enough to pay for Jody, maybe not ask him why, but present him with a copy of the expenses we'd paid until the day he walked out. At one moment if he thought I was putting the arm on him to shake him down for money, I would just laugh and tell him his mother and I would pay him to keep him. 

What sort of man keeps a much younger man? Well, that sounds naïve but beyond sex there had to be some level of affection or was sex such an attraction, combined with a great looking guy with his well tuned body enough? Maybe I'd find out, maybe not. That lay in the future.

We needed to leave the Wednesday before Saturday to give us adequate time to make the ride and still be rested for Saturday night. How he did it....? Charlie found a weekend rodeo for bikes and, theoretically, that's what we'd being going to. The long term weather report looked great and so, just as the sun barely rose we rolled out on our way. One good thing about leaving a city in the morning is that the traffic is going the other way which means you can make good time. We had put in a sort of phone gadget so we could talk to each other with no roger/over etc. Compared to the bikes we had in High School, these were the zenith of luxury. We both had added paniers for storage for the trip and, even with those, we cruised out at around 75. 

Charlie had what I called the ultimate in get out of jail cards. He'd bullshit with the officer who stopped us, show him his badge, we'd all shake hands, he'd mention to watch the speed and, more important, any advice on the road, speed traps, where to get a good meal with a clean lavatory....nice guys. We were only stopped once and that was in Arkansas where we hit the jackpot, We were pulled over by a Highway Patrol officer who, it turned out had been a Marine, had known Charlie and so we spent a pleasurable hour  leaning against his cruiser, taking a piss in the bushes, swapping stories, most of them very dirty or tales of what they did in the Corps.

 Great guy, even had two thermos jugs of coffee-so strong it crawled out of the holder-and, as his final salute to the Marine Corps, gave us an escort through Little Rock and twenty miles beyond. Would probably have gone further but he spotted a Lamborghini going way over any limits, as he said in our ears, "That one is mine and whoever the driver is, is good for at least an overnight....Take care gentleman!" clicked off and made a U turn through a gulch in the highway median that most drivers would have turned into a wreck. In my rearview I could see the full Christmas tree on top of his car and sirens loud enough to be heard in Memphis. Helluva good guy. We agreed on our way back to stop off, buy him a beer and further shoot the shit.

We decided to go until it was almost dark then find a place where the bikes would be safe, the beds good and the Chicken Fried dripping with white gravy. Found one too. There was a discrete sign that indicated families of Vets were welcome and since that was half of us, in we turned. Couldn't have been nicer people, gave us a room that had one queen size bed in Texas and the other in Arkansas. The food was just what we wanted and, the next morning, found we'd been given a deep military discount. It was about then we noticed, on the wall behind reception, a picture of a fine looking Marine who, it was obvious, was never coming home. Charlie kissed the lady, who was the Marine's mother, gave her a salute and we were off for Dallas.

Neither of us had ridden into Dallas on bikes so Charlie's buddy arranged for two motorcycle cops to meet us a bit East of the city and hand fly us through the chaos that was Dallas traffic. Their trick was to abandon I-20 and stick to city streets which, given the traffic, were about as fast as the Interstate. 

Dale, Charlie's buddy, was waiting for us, got the bikes stowed in their parking yard-not having DPD paint on them they stood out, like they'd been confiscated on a drug deal. Now it was time for the surprise and it was a whopper. 

Seems cops were in and out of Club Adonis, about half of whom were motorcycle officers. The force was getting two new officers for the evening, us. He took us down to where uniforms were kept and we hauled through them until we had the full kit, but fitted a might tighter than a regular officer would want. Fact is, our crotches looked like we were hiding a grapefruit. Lucky for us, both of us were in reasonably good shape for men our age so no gut over the belt. The guns were filled with blanks, but all the rest of the regalia was the real deal. Looking at our selves, we broke down, slapped Dale, and went back to laughing and looking. There was no way we weren't Dallas cops with the motorcycle detail. It was an inspiration. With our full coverage helmets, it was virtually impossible to get a good look at the face and, with mirrored aviator sun glasses, about all you could see was the uniform. Dale took pictures of us on and off the bikes and, when I looked at mine, I saw a damn fine looking police officer, ready to ride off and protect the citizens of Dallas. Charlie, with his slightly better figure looked hot and also like a really fine officer. With Dale, the three of us lined up on the bikes and looking at the camera, looked just like a poster for the Dallas PD.

It was the first time I ever felt that I looked sexy because I'd made myself look sexy and I liked the idea. Was I going to go home and have my suits altered slightly to produce that bulge? No. But I was going to get some slacks that were more fitted and, based on how the uniform shirt went across my chest, a new business shirt or two was definitely slimmer, almost enough  to make my nipples apparent.

DPD rode Kawasaki 1000s which were a little different from ours. Dale had us mount up on two of theirs, as much to get used to riding in uniform as to accustom us to the machine and we went on a tour of Dallas. Great fun. Dale was a champ all the way, made me wish I
hadjoined the Corps myself. When Charlie did, I was tempted but I was about about 3 semesters from graduation and it just didn't make sense. One thing, Corps related, Dale had Charlie wear a short sleeved shirt to show his Eagle, Globe and Anchor tat on one muscular bicep and a bull dog on the other. If we didn't look like motorcycle officers, then who did?

Dale came back to the hotel with us, we all had room service dinner as neither Charlie nor I had brought the sort of clothes that would get you in the door at most Dallas restaurants.
"So, tell me about this guy who is funding my kid."
Dale almost laughed. "Well to begin his name is Wilford Smith and to see him is to believe he just retired from forty years as a librarian. Looks are deceiving, he's big into Bondage and Discipline but since he's afraid to do it himself he hires some guy to do it. If you guess he has a lot of money, you'd be right. Lives in a big house just south of Route 12, most of it surrounded by tall fences or thick hedges. Just because I knew he took out the licenses, he has that place more secure than a mouse's cunt and that's where he keeps your kid. Except when he wants to show him off, which is pretty often, then he dresses him so there isn't much to the imagination and off they go. They don't do anything, if someone asks your kid to dance, two men gently move him away. I guess he must spend part of his day in a gym 'cause I'm told he has a killer body."

"That's it?"
"Yep, that's it, Wilford Smith in a snapshot. He'll be there tomorrow night, never leaves home without his boy toy."
That gave me nothing to think about save that Jody had, again, found someone to pay his way, get him what he wanted and float with the tide. The bondage part didn't bother me, I'd do it to him myself just remembering all the years he screwed us over. I guess that Saturday night would tell me what I wanted to do.....if I could think of much I wanted to know. Dale said they'd work it so that every moment would be on video, something to remember our evening in Dallas by.

Back at the hotel, Charlie and I finally realized it had been a full day.
"Jeez, I don't know how they wear those pants, my nuts are hiding in my body."
"Yeah, well, those were a size or two smaller, remember, there's a purpose in all this although I wonder what it is."
We both took off our shirts, slid out of our pants and, almost simultaneously, reached for our cock and balls."
"Might as well slide 'em out, warm them in hot water just to get them back to working order."

It had been a long time since we were kids in high school but some memories don't go away. "Remember what we used to do with each other's dong?"
He ducked his head, I could see a bit of red but also remembrance. "Something like we'd do in the corps, have a round pound at the end of the day. Some times Sarge placed bets on first and last and....."
He tapered off. I could pretty much guess but getting him to say it became a priority, "....and winner and looser would....?"
"Looser had to suck winner's dick until he came. Then," he laughed a little, "..we'd bet on long it would take....and with all of us looking on and no matter how often we'd done it, some were just, uh, more talented than others."
"You ever win or lose?" Seemed a logical question.
"Both....as often as we did it, bound to happen."

I was down to my riding jock and socks. Turning to him, hoisting my jewels I said, "Well there's no Sarge here so I guess we'd have to both be a winner and a loser."
He didn't really look up but I could see the edge of his smile. "Seems that would be about right....no other way." He looked up. "Been a long time, hasn't it. We sure did have fun. As kids what didn't we do?"
"Well we sure did this." He shucked off his briefs, the kind with a cup built in, looked at me, reached over and pulled mine down. "I, uh, kinda remember that we needed to get each other straightened out."

Almost in unison we latched on to each others cocks and began the slow shucking that always led to some place we wanted to go. We were just older and didn't have to make excuses about what we were doing and going to do.
We sat next to each other on a bed and felt the stiffness slowly prowl up, with the other hand gave a tug on the nut sack, It seemed like we were in my bedroom, all those years. "Remember how we worried if we'd be big enough?"
"Well," Charlie laughed a bit, "we don't have to worry about that now, do we."
"Ever measure yours?"
"Fuck that was another one of those contests in the barracks, who was longest naturally, who could get it the longest, who had the biggest balls, how low did they hang....Wasn't much about what was in each other's shorts we didn't know."

"Did you ever lose intentionally?"
"I do believe we all did. Just depended on how horny or lonely or both you were."
"Anybody ever get butt fucked?"
"That was a little too far for most, but some, yeah, some did it. Said it felt great or that was their way, maybe, of excusing what they'd done."
"You?"

"Cocksucker, I knew you were going to ask. If I didn't have your meat in my hand and mine in yours I probably wouldn't be worked up to tell you but, yeah, I got ramrodded fairly often. Liked it too, if it was the right man."
Slowly jacking him, I looked in his eyes, looked at his face..."Am I the right man?"
"I guess I never told you but....you always were."
Silence while we sat there feeling better and better as the juice in us began to push up a bit, That great feeling of fullness that is so pleasant then urgent and then unstoppable.
We rolled over on the bed, swiveled around and took each other's cock in our mouths and began the slow exploration with our tongues, pushed on to get more. Dreaded the feeling knowing we'd gone too fast and the cum couldn't be stopped. But we were older, more experienced and could take a long time.

The room was dark save for some spill light from the bathroom.  Two figures, or maybe one, were on the bed enjoying each other, bringing up not only sperm but memories. Good memories. I remembered the one time my kid and I jerked off together and maybe had we done it more often.....but that seemed unlikely unless I'd paid him. We took a pause, if only to prolong our pleasure, and rolled on our backs.
"Want to hear something dumb? I'm glad we don't go in for all that manscaping shit. I like it that we're a bit furry." He ran his hand across my chest to a nipple and teased it.

I quietly agreed then began to play with his body, his chest, the whole crotch in my hand, the inside of his legs.....
"Bill,"
"Yeah"
"Will you do me? We never did that but...I sure like it when a man goes up my butt."
I rolled over and looked at him. "How long have you wanted.....all of this? The nuts, the jerks the crème the feeling, you getting fucked.."
"A long time, every time I saw you I thought about it. When we'd get off the bikes and our crotches would be wet from sweat, I wanted you so bad....."
"Then why the fuck didn't you say something?"
"Because I was afraid you wouldn't remember a long time ago and hate me. I couldn't risk that, I loved you too much. Always have. That's why I enlisted, thought if I got away from you, I'd forget you, what I wanted, it would all go away."
"So you found yourself doing just what you didn't think you wanted to do with men who meant nothing to you. Charlie, even when you came back, you should have found a way to tell me, I would have sensed it....all you really needed to say was 'remember what we used to do with each other', I'd been right there with you."
"I guess we owe your kid something." We laid in the dark for a few minutes.

"Okay cowboy, it's time to mount up, I'm ready for you and it's a long time coming." I let him suck my dick to get it nice and firm again although the idea of plugging him was doing a good job on my stiffness. Maybe I'd wanted to do this for a long time as well.
"What about lube?"
"I make it myself, just start to slide in......"
I guess this was what was called doggie style, he was up on his hands and knees and I was on my knees with a pretty straight shot at my target. I leaned against him, found what I was looking for and gently put my head at the opening.
"You're on your way, buddy, just start a little pressure in.....yeah, that's the ticket, you're getting there. Can you feel my fuck muscles beginning to massage your sausage?"
I could and told him so.

"Aw right, just keep on going until you come to a sort of ring, let me really bear down on you, get you ready and when I say so, one big push.........Go!" And miraculously I slid into a place where the flesh was warmer, smoother, softer. He was still working me over with what lay above but I started to go slowly in and out. Tried to match my rhythm to his. I was no good at this and knew it but this was for my guy, for the man who loved me and I tried.

Too soon I felt my gun getting loaded and before I could stop it, I shot in him. I was sweating, so was he, and collapsed on his side with my chest, my cock still in him, his muscles still working it, working it hard. 

"I'll get you back up, just take a minute, rest where you are, reach around and take my dick in your hand, jack it off.....then feed my cum to me, that always gets me going and will do something for you."

He was quicker than I thought. The feeling of him sucking on my fingers, licking his lips over how he tasted was enormously erotic. I wanted some of him so I reached up, gave him a few tugs and got a finger coating of him. Closed my eyes and stuck it in my mouth. His cum did it for me, I was stiffening up, reacting to his muscles, enjoying the circle of muscle hurt me as it clamped down and then released. I could go longer, I knew it. He knew it. My head was on his shoulder as I licked his neck and felt the thrumming in him through his skin on my belly. We were there, stuck together as we were in real life, stuck to each other but now, now it would be different. He could be honest and I could accept him, fuck him when he wanted, let him do anything to me that pleasured him. That was how it would be.

Couldn't hold it much longer and he could feel me getting ready to come. He squeezed me as hard as he could, trying to postpose the stream of silver life that was about to flow into him. And then it was done. Having never pulled out, I did it carefully, no point in hurting him, not then.

He rolled me on my back, blew his crème on me, picked it up, bit at a time, and fed it to me. Told me to hold it in my mouth while he leaned in, took his tongue and retrieved some of himself. I let his milk slide down my throat then just lay there. 

A lot of time passed, maybe an hour or two? We'd gone to sleep spontaneously and the cool of the room combined with our sweat made us shudder and finally wake up. 

"Shower, then bed."

Clean again, we got in the same bed and got warm again. "I guess this means you'll be dropping by more often. You know there's a guest room...."
"Naw, I want to sneak around with you. Get on the bikes, find a field or an old barn or a pond and do whatever is on our minds. You  up for that?"
" I think....maybe I always have been." That was all there was to say and he knew it. I ducked under the cover, kissed his dick then rolled on one side and pushed against his nice furry body.

Not surprisingly we slept in. Dale called around ten and was surprised to find us just getting up, still in the stretch and yawn phase. He assumed, in a way correctly, that we'd taken advantage of the nightlife in Dallas and suggested we kick around the hotel or the city and he'd catch us about seven at the police station; The performance wasn't before ten or eleven so we had time to kill. 

Thanked him and promptly went back to bed. Sadly, this was too upscale a hotel to have a coffee maker in it so room service sent up two pots plus we indulged ourselves, what does every guy really want for breakfast? As much bacon as he can eat. The waiter who brought it up laughed and said that's what he'd do. By then we'd found some boxers, T shirts and socks so were at least dressed, however marginally, should somebody come to the door.

While we crunched our way through breakfast, occasionally dipping a strip into the coffee, we made some loosely thought out plans. I knew I had to get to Neiman-Marcus and get a good gift, well, a really good gift for Martha, we both thought we needed to do something for Dale, really all the guys who'd had a hand in this and, privately, I made a note to buy a special present for someone who would appreciate it.

Neimans didn't mind our looks, treated us just fine,  I found a diamond pin for Martha and arranged to have it get to her before I got back, seemed a good idea. Dale was a stumper. Super guy, he would resist anything if he knew we were thinking of getting him something but then I had an idea. I asked the jeweler if by chance they had gold charms and, of course, they did. Solved our problem and with a gold chain to go with it. 

That concluded shopping. Downtown Dallas, as with many cities, had been hit with mall-itis, add to that it was Saturday and there wasn't much to do. For good reason we weren't hungry and having anything alcoholic was out of the question, not with the night we had planned. Finally found a coffee/computer café where you could rent a computer, buy the time and swill down all the various coffees you might want. Spent a couple of hours, mainly looking up porn, then ambled back to the hotel where, making it to the room just in time, we played piss swords while we unloaded a lot of coffee. It was then about four, four thirty. I set the alarm and we both lay down, on separate beds, until it rang and it was time to get to the PD and ramp up for the evening.

Dale was button bright and really into all this when we got there. Stunned when handed a cold motorcycle on a gold chain, we told him it was because he was our golden boy. He really looked touched, gave each of us a hug and a hand shake and then.....told us to strip naked. In his ever mounting quest to turn us into Dallas Cops, we were going to get a version of a Dallas Cop haircut. The main thing was to get a straight line cut across the back just below where the helmets would end. Also, there was a little trimming, I lost part of my sideburns and Charlie, who was the real cop, got a burr haircut. If he had an opinion, he didn't tell us. Next, and Dale stressed the importance of this, we had to hit the bathroom and to the best of our ability squeeze out every bit of whatever was in us. Those motorcycle pants, as opposed to our riding pants, even Charlie's leather pants, were a bitch to fiddle with if you needed to pull your cock out and worse if it was number three; Getting them off was fairly easy but getting them back up with all the gear could be a bitch. 

I don't know about Charlie but I felt stupid being told to empty myself by a cop. Yeah, his reasons were right but I hadn't been told to go to the bathroom since I was about six; That sort of thing I could figure out. 

Fifteen, twenty minutes later we reappeared to find Dale had stripped down and so we headed off to where the uniforms were laid out. He was right, it did take a long time to put them on, mainly because we were amateurs but also there were tricks as to where to belt or button. First was a heavy duty jock and then you started from the bottom, got on boot socks, slipped into the pants, the part that went under the boots and had an elastic gore in them to adjust to your calf and keep the pant from coming out of the boot. Which was the next thing. Dale told us not to bother to close them but wait until top side was in. Each of us got a standard issue white T shirt over which was the blue shirt left open one button to show the T shirt. Also, Dale again, he fastened a dog tag apiece around our necks standard issue for the troops on the bikes All that was tucked down and held down while the waist band was buttoned. The opening in the front was closed after you reached up to, once again, pull down on the T shirt and officer shirt. Finally, every thing was closed up and that concluded the first layer. 

Dale said we should practice squatting as cops do when talking to someone on the ground. Why this was important, who knew but it was important to him. We rested for a time until Rusty and Aaron came in. They were the real officers, plus Dale, we were going to ride with and they looked us over for details of which there were none. Okay, now came the equipment belt, the Sam Brown belt, holsters, night stick guns-with blanks-tight fitting leather gloves, two pair, the guys said many nights two pair weren't enough. We were shown how to insert our gloves into the epaulets on our shirts, badges were placed on his, we were deputized-for legal reasons, this protected the department, name tags, all of which fit through premade holes in the shirt. Cuff case in back with a spare pair. and we were pretty much ready. It was cooler outside and in all that rig I was glad of it. 

The bikes were the ones we'd ridden earlier and so our helmets were already there. The mirrored sunglasses were hung by a temple bar through a slit in the top flap of the covering of a pocket. And that was all. Almost.

We had a quick tour of our saddle bags one of which was carrying our radio which snaked a line up to our ear and swung a plastic arc around to our mouth should we need to speak. For this evening, we wouldn't hear dispatch, nor could they hear us, but Rusty and Aaron could easily communicate.

Dale pulled around looking like us save for more stripes and some lines of service medallions. It was nine o'clock, shift began and we, with maybe sixty other mounted officers went out the steel door and into Dallas.

Two blocks away, Dale pulled over, had us all dismount and form a circle.
"Gentlemen, it's now for real. You are fully deputized officers and I expect each of you to help the other if needed, to follow directions as ordered and to protect each other and the citizens of Dallas. It's Saturday night and our first tour is through Oakcliff where I expect trouble. Now, Joe, Charlie, give me your side arms." We did.
He very efficiently shucked out the blanks and put in new, real bullets. He handed them back to us as he said, "Now you're ready."

Two brawls and a domestic later, I felt like a true officer. I'd cuffed a couple and held them until the squad car arrived, did a foot chase, which, amazingly, I won and went in with guns drawn to a hostile situation. It was nearing eleven and Dale, having had a word or two with Rusty and Aaron, pulled our unit away and headed for Club Adonis.

Parking was easy, the bouncer waved a friendly salute to us and in we went. It was louder than an asthma attack and between the music and the screaming and whatever noise, I was glad we had our intercoms in our ears. Dale said that the show started in a few minutes so just slowly walk through the crowd, be friendly, many of these guys have a thing for officers and then get back here. We did that and he was right. I carried my night stick and had to tap a few wrists to keep them off my britches, my boots and my crotch. I left my sunglasses off, per Dale, so I could be friendly even if the touchy feely of  the patrons got a little too far.

Back at the place Dale directed us to, he asked if anyone was bruised from eager hands and laughed. Just about then, the lights dimmed and came up on a round stage in the middle of the room. At the same time, mirrors above it insured no matter where you were, you got a view of what was going on. 

Brief introduction in which we were told that Mission was waiting for his release from whomever had been sent to guard him.

With that, Jody appeared on stage looking pretty much like Jody. Same tousled hair, backwards ball cap-sporting the Cowboys logo- an open shirt, an undershirt some old looking jeans, flip flops and nothing else. He could have been coming down the stairs in our house save for the wide, steel manacles that held his wrists. Trying to look pitiful didn't really work but I was a connoisseur of his moves and so knew this was low range for him. To others he may have seemed in genuine difficulty. He lifted his arms, tried to get his hands through the manacles but it was impossible. Falling on the bed, he began to rub his crotch and alternately, try to get out of his predicament. If it had been me, he'd have had leg irons and a steel gag. 

The light shifted to a new comer. He was more than handsome but had a brutish look. Only a ripped shirt, jeans that were falling apart, steel toed boots and, tossing up and down in his hands, keys.

He wandered over to the bed, picked up Jody by the cuffs which must have hurt considering he had to arch his back. Dropped him, popped his crotch, which exhibited real cries of pain and paraded around the stage as he removed what remained of his shirt, covered his chest with oil and played with his pierced nipples. Agile as a cat, he leapt over the bed with the skill of a gymnast, got behind Jody, picked up the keys with his teeth and taunted him with them. 

While he did that, he dropped his pants showing that he was going commando if you didn't count the huge piercing in his dick plus the ladder of safety pins that came around from under him and went up his cock to just under the Prince Albert. And he kept on flipping those keys, made them jingle. Jody was clearly, at least for the sake of the viewing public, turned on and wanted out of his hellish situation. All I could think was......I wished I'd had a set like that, at certain time in our former family life a lot better and who could argue they beat a "time out" in a corner all to hell and back.

For there to be more, he had to unlock him which he did. Stripped him and revealed a large Prince Albert on his cock, the circular kind with no captive bead. For that mother to come off, it would require a welder or someone mighty good with a diamond saw. The crowd had been sufficiently diverted not to notice a chain come down with a snaffle that the new comer quickly slipped over the metal circle on my kids cock. Things were looking up. The chain started up until it met resistance which was the tensile strength of the metal circle on his cock. Just to make things easier, additional chains came down to be attached to various piercings, unused at first but now filled in, and pulled up.

From the cabinet beside the bed, he retrieved several sets of single manacles and attached them to Jody's wrists. ankles, neck and a stout piece of rope around his waist. All with snaffles that were attached to various chains that descended from the ceiling. Didn't take much to get the kid elevated with special attention paid to his cock and balls. He was already screeching and another centimeter or so just upped his volume. Charlie gave me the thumbs up. 

In a flash, all the chains and ropes were released letting Jody fall on the bed but only briefly until his partner could roll him over on his face just as a butt hook appeared.. The audience was ecstatic hardly waiting for more. Hook went in, Jody was hauled up, screaming, then the riding crop was  brought out. He didn't get Jody's butt too red, but enough to know that something unpleasant had happened. Let him down and stuffed his dick in his mouth. A large clock descended with time elapsed being shown. I guess he was being timed as to how long it took for him to get his partner to squirt and, one sensed, the sooner the better. Finally about six minutes had gone by, the big guy let him down, took him under his well constructed arms and shoved his dick in his butt. The clock started the other way. Nobody was short changing the other-even the audience was relatively quiet, probably involved in their own, uhm, participation. 

One of the bouncers found me, pointed to my left and I saw an officer escort a man from the crowd into the room, turned, and gave me a thumbs up. I picked up my clipboard with my research on it, put on my helmet, the mirrored glasses and my leather gloves. Whatever else was on stage, it was my show time down the way a bit in a room. As I watched Jody getting stuffed on stage, it was all I could do to restrain myself from jumping on stage, pulling guy number two out and, with a shout of "You can give it to him harder," stick my (one night only) cop meat into him and wait for blood.

I opened the door to a small room with two chairs. Smith occupied one, I kicked the other one over. "Mr. Smith? I'm Officer Austin and, up front, need to tell you you're in no trouble, just some questions that need getting cleared up."
He made a sort of strangled answer that I took for assent, took out my clipboard, scanned it-no reason to, I knew exactly what was on it, pulled off my helmet and my shades, spread my legs in a military half brace position and asked my first question
"Your protégé, the one performing right now, did you check him for wants and warrants? Any missing person on him?"
"He said he was clean on all that, had a picture I.D. driver's license and a U.S. Passport. He's here, in public, no one has ever asked about his status, what about him?"

"Where'd you find him?"
"He applied here to be a stripper and...I saw more in him than just that, real talent that boy has."
"Word is he's flashing a lot of cash. Would you know where that came from?"
"Well, he works here....."
"Don't shit me, Mr. Smith, I have no idea what he's paid to do his act but not enough to cruise around town in a new Corvette with a pocket full of bills. Want to start again?"
"Uhm, ah, Officer, uh Officer....."
"Austin" and I pointed to the nametag on my uniform shirt.
"Austin, well, as I said, he applied and I hired him away from them, taught him to do some routines......"
"Like the one he's doing tonight...."
"Uh, yeah, fact is, I taught both those boys...."
"Sir, they don't look like boys to me. I'll take your word on their age, some of these kids can look very young, very young indeed but they're not. Do you know how many men, like yourself, take in one of these men and, after a while, find themselves the object of a palimony suit? Ever think about that?"
"Well, yes but he had money when I first met him and he came voluntarily, signed a contract, my attorney drew it up, his services to me and whomever I designate are all legal."
"Gotta tell you, Sir, what he's doing on stage right now...." and I opened the door to have a look/see ",,,,isn't legal in Dallas County or any other county in this country. You want to go to Asia, Mexico, places like that and what they do is their business but not here."

He looked stunned. Cops had been in and out, seeing what was going on or similar ever since the day Jody/Mission first took to the stage and I was the first one to mention any illegality.

"The management, they approved this, saw it with an empty room, liked it."
"I'll bet."
"Look, do I need a lawyer?"
"Up front I said you're not in any trouble but you could talk yourself into some so stay seated and calm down, I need to speak to my partner."
Or if I didn't leave the room I would have fallen over with laughter. Smith was smart enough but he was beginning to understand something about this boy/man had attracted the cops. Charlie came over and damn near had to stick a leather glove in my mouth. "You take him, I can't do this straight faced."

In the room Smith sat and, as Charlie later told me, meeting 'Officer Houston' was even more frightening than meeting 'Officer Austin'. Jesus, those names, didn't he think they sounded suspicious.

It took a few but Charlie came out, said he had him warmed up about child molestation, criminal persecution upon a body..."What's that?"
"Fuck, I don't know, I just made it up." I almost started to cave again until Charlie kneed me in the heavy duty jock which proved it wasn't all that heavy duty. "Now or never, get in there and do what you came to do." I looked back on the stage where Jody was giving a very professional suck job as well as riding a saddle with a dildo in it. Sort of like walking and chewing gum.

Back in the room, no matter what I'd said, you could see the sweat. That's when I squatted down beside him and brought up the clipboard. "Sir, these numbers represent what his last sponsors paid for him and, as you can see, it runs into the hundreds of thousands, not in a couple of months but a few years. It's our suspicion that he'll work you the same way. Sure, you'll get some money from it but that contract you signed makes you responsible for him and, I'd guess, his debts. You ought to talk to his family see if they want him back and their unequivocal answer is NO, I believe the father said ' Fuck no'. Wherever he is, with whoever he's with, he wished that poor bastard good luck and very deep pockets." I stopped there waiting for all this to sink in.

"You've spoken with his family?"
"Yes sir, I have. At length."
"And they don't want him back?"
"No Sir, You're assuming they threw him out which isn't the case. He might have been told to leave but he wasn't 'thrown out'. When he walked out their door it was because he wanted to."
"Mustn't be much of a family. Trashy he had to learn what he, uh, does somewhere. The usual two places are the home or the street."

I let him sit there, proud of himself for dismissing the family as no-gooders which allowed him to let himself think he'd really done my son a favor by taking him out of an unhealthy atmosphere. I'd just thought of it and Charlie was going to have to free form it but I had an idea. Leaning out the door, I asked 'Officer Houston' if he'd step in for a moment. 

Confronted by a wall of blue clad meat, guns at their sides, and not looking happy he was in the process of revising what he may be thinking.
"Charlie, would you introduce Mr. Smith to me."
Charlie lit up immediately. First he pulled out his badge case and I.D. "I'm not from here and neither is this man. Show him Bill. My I.D. came out and in the back of his mind two names began to run together.
He was stuttering a bit. Charlie leaned against a wall while I was in front of him, legs wide spread not looking happy. "He's your son....?"
"Yep and a DNA test would prove that."
"Why all this? You're not Dallas Cops," He began to think he'd been flim flamed and now he was set to be angry. He rose and Charlie pushed him down. "What do you want? Money? is this some sort of shake down?"

"Fuck no, I don't want him back. His mother doesn't want him back, his Uncle Charlie here, who is a real cop, doesn't want him back. All I wanted was to meet the man who was paying the freight for him now. As far as I care, you can do whatever you want to and with him. Whip him, flog him, fuck him, suck him, hook him up to a milking machine, hope you have a well equipped dungeon at home 'cause that's what he deserves."
Smith was catatonic. His mouth was open but all that came out was spit.

"Come on Bill, lets let Mr. Smith go back to what he's paying for.
"Don't you want to even meet him?"
Charlie whipped out a mini-Polaroid and snapped a picture of the two of us then, by extending his arm the three of us. The pictures fell on the floor. "Be sure to give him our calling cards. Come on Bill, we're still on duty until six."

We collected Dale went outside, got the helmets and gloves back on, turned  on the intercom, fired up the bikes and rolled out.
In my ear I heard Dale ask if I got what I wanted. I turned to look at him, raised the mirrors and give him a bit shit eating grin.
"Yeah, I got what I wanted. Where to next?"

Maybe it was routine for Dale and the guys but for us, the remaining part of Saturday night in Dallas was all hands on deck. Later Dale admitted on more than one occasion he'd been glad to have the extra help. Charlie he knew could do the drill but I was the surprise. Maybe it's the uniform that gets to you. Maybe it was the pride in being a Dallas Cop but whatever it was, as the sun rose and we parked the bikes back in the police yard, I was sorry it was over. Almost asked if Sunday night was as interesting as Saturday. Aaron, who had blood on his tunic said, "Naw, nothing is like Saturday night. Nothing."

Inside we peeled off the uniforms, got out of the boots, returned the shooting irons and, once again, were naked. Dale. who was also nude, brought a basket with all our clothes but suggested we not run off too fast. Drill was to take a shower, grab some drawers and then meet for the after shift run down, commentary, all that. Seemed like a workable plan.

Nothing like a hot shower filled with hot men. Word got around and we were pretty much accepted. It was like the locker room at school, horseplay, lots of meaningless threats and laughter. After which we grabbed our shorts, industrial jock in Charlie's case and went to the ready room for the play by play. 

It was interesting having been in on some of it. I was sorry our radios weren't tuned to get the whole ugly mess that had gone on. Some of the guys had wounds of duty that ranged from a few band aids to a cast on one arm. Two bikes would have to be dumped after they were used as  shield in a shoot out-75 bullet holes were counted in them....and one guy spoke up, "Does that include the two they pulled out of my ass at emergency?" Laughter everywhere. And then it broke up. Charlie, me, Aaron, Dale and Rusty were back getting our clothes. We extended an invitation to dinner for all of them at the best barbecue joint they knew. Thanks all around but the only one free was Dale, the other two had families who were anxious to have some time with them against the moment someone in a blue uniform came to their front door with their hat under their arm and a sorrowful look on their face. 

Dale said he'd come by the hotel later, maybe catch a swim and we'd do something about dinner or....just stay in, put our feet up, drink beer and watch the game; The Cowboys were playing Washington. 

Back in the room, the bikes safely stowed in the underground parking of the hotel, we found we were more tired than we'd thought. Being a cop, doing what we'd done, is an adrenaline rush that had lasted for about ten hours. Without thinking, we crawled into the same bed, called the operator and gave her two names to allow through and then, to work off all that still pooling energy, fucked each other stupid. Seemed the right thing to do.

Monday afternoon-The Cowboys won in over time and a fervent fan got plastered on beer so there'd been a sleep over, we were back on the road. Stopped at the same place in Texarkana for lunch-the remembered us-and we'd stopped to get the lady a bunch of yellow roses. She cried a little and said she'd remember the two Marines who made her year. I started to say something but Charlie just shook his head.

We'd decided on Little Rock as our night stop, that is, what Charlie had planned. About twenty miles South there was a Highway Patrol Car parked by the roadside and the cop in was holding a radar gun at us. When we pulled over, he and I both laughed, it was Don, the man we'd met on our way down. I'd gotten his name and number when we'd been at the Dallas Police Station or should I say, Officer Austin got it. He had our cards, and Charlie's shield number so knew who it was. 

We had to know how things went down with the Lamborghini and in his best country boy, aw shit way, told us he'd got right lucky. Not only was the car hot but so were the two in it. Plus the two kilos of something white,  his guess was cocaine in the spare tire. They were still in Pulaski County Jail and were likely to be there, or some place with bars for some little while. 

I surprised both of the guys when I pulled out a little blue box that said, "Tiffany" on the outside. Inside was a silver cop car, not exactly like his, but close. Well, that settled that. We couldn't just blow through. He got on his horn and let some of the guys know he was doing a courtesy dinner for some Dallas P. Ders at his place and to bring their own bottles.

Which had been more fun in the end? I'm saying the night in Dallas and watching my shithead kid get butt fucked with an iron hook. Or maybe finding Charlie at last rather than at first. 

Don's party was the sort where everyone brought their own ribs and there was an informal rivalry as to which was the best, a contest we avoided but did make a lot of new friends, many of whom rode bikes. 

Home was Martha in the kitchen reverting to mother hen mode, telling her two boys to get their asses up the stairs and cleaned up before we stunk up her kitchen. Later at dinner no word was spoken about Jody but she heard all about Dallas, not exactly as it happened but close.

We became a pair, Charlie and I did. We did everything we'd always  wanted to do, got our minimum weekly requirement of sex, of all sorts, and settled back to a very happy program of life.

Months later, we were sitting around a turkey that had suffered badly at Charlie's attempt to carve it. It was cold though bright out, warm inside. It was almost a throwaway remark but Martha said, " Wonder what every happened to Jody?" and returned to picking the Walnuts from her Waldorf salad.

The Title for this story is  line from "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" and is used with permission.