This is the sixth chapter of “The Policeman.” As we have stated in earlier chapters, the story contains bisexuality and sexual acts involving adults and under-age minors, both related and non-related, in accordance with the shared story preferences of the authors. If any of this is objectionable to you, you might like to leave and go to another story.
This story is a work of fiction. Some persons and events are based on actual ones, but even those have been so significantly changed that nothing in this story should be read as anything but fictional.
It is probable that some of you read Chapter 1 about Phil, noting that he is the policeman who is the title character, and may be puzzled what happened to him, as the next few chapters do not mention him. Please be patient. This is a long story, and there are still a few more chapters before he returns to our attention. Hopefully, you will enjoy what you read in the meantime. And eventually it will all fit together. You'll see!
Feedback, which is desired and appreciated, can be sent to “Brad Gillespie” at the address RBZ followed by the digits 3141 at gmail.com. Please put the story title in the subject line. But don't be surprised if the name on the responses is different. That e-mail account is under a different pseudonym than the one I used to write this story.
Feedback to “Tucson Daddy” can be sent to lannyr99 at yahoo.com.
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Oliver is a ten-year-old boy, who is the light of Brian's life. He's all boy, who enjoys sports and rough-housing with other boys. He has learned that his slightly feminine features can have an effect not only on other boys, but men as well. Especially his father, whom he loves deeply.
He was very happy; his daddy was coming home. They'd talked every day, saying how much they missed each other. He'd repeated his promise to sleep naked with Brian each time his mom wasn't listening. Brian had promised he could climb into bed naked with him, and they'd cuddle.
When Oliver heard the slamming of a car door, he rushed to the window to look out “Daddy's home!” he called to his mom. Without waiting for her, he opened the door and rushed out. The taxi was driving away, and Brian got down on one knee with his arms open wide to welcome him.
“Daddy!” his son cried out, wrapping his arms around Brian's neck. “I'm so glad you're home.”
Donna came walking behind Oliver, allowing father and son sufficient time to get their greeting done. Brian turned sideways so that Donna could get against him as well. They kissed, and to Brian's mind it seemed almost odd to be kissing a woman, even if it was the woman he loved. The kiss was filled with a promise of time alone. “Glad to see you home, honey,” she said.
“Me too. Glad to be home with my wife and my son. Glad to be out of that hotel and back to real life.” Carrying Oliver, he released Donna's hand to pull his suitcase behind him.
Once inside, he set the suitcase by the door, intending to take care of it later. Putting Oliver down, he reached for his wife to pull her into an embrace with a real kiss. Again it seemed odd, awkward, to hold a woman in his arms and kiss her lips after a week of exciting sex with men.
Another thing he noticed was that when he kissed Jerry or Oliver or James, his cock rose almost instantly. The smell and taste of a man was as exciting and arousing as he'd ever felt. Yet here in his own home with his own wife, the sight, smell, and taste of her didn't cause the same reaction. He'd test that theory later tonight, when they were in bed and naked. This idea did cause him some erotic reaction, for which he was grateful.
“How do you handle returning to your wife after a week of hot man sex?” he'd asked Jerry, who simply chuckled. “Relax, babe. Yes, you are gay, but not that gay. I've noticed you checking out the pretty ladies. Your hetero side is fully operational. When you get home, back into your regular routine, your wife will look just as good as ever, and you'll get hard when you see her naked. You're over thinking this gay stuff.” Then he took on a sober look and cautioned, “Just don't spend a lot of time thinking about my cock in your mouth or up your ass. When you're with Donna, be with her completely. That's the trick to keeping your gay side under control.”
Since it was still early in the evening, Donna brought two glasses of wine to share. They sat together on the couch, getting back into the swing of being at home again. She told him in detail of all the things that had happened while he'd been away. He gave her an overview of the convention, focusing less on the presentations. Tech stuff bored her, so he kept his work talk to the personal. Yes, the bed was quite comfortable. Yes, the food was quite good. The room was quite nice. All in all, it was a good trip.
The hour quickly grew late, and Donna hinted that she'd like to go to bed with more than a subtle touch or word. Oliver had been allowed to stay up later, since Brian was home, so he went off to his bedroom as well.
Brian and Donna walked toward the bedroom. She seemed nervous, almost as if this was a replay of their wedding night. He scooped her up into his arms, and, stepping over the threshold, carried her to their bed. He set her back onto her feet, looked into her eyes, then pulled her into an embrace, his arms encircling her, holding her against him. They kissed again, a kiss that was filled with passion, as well as lust for her.
She parted her lips, and he felt her tongue against his, before he sucked on hers. His fingers began to roam freely, up and down her back, even sliding over her ass. But this touching was insufficient for them. He tugged at the sides of her blouse, pulling it free from inside her jeans, so he could slip his hands up under it. They had but one goal in mind, to unsnap the hooks on her bra. When the strap finally parted, he slipped them from underneath, to undo her buttons, slowly, one at a time. Once undone, she shrugged her shoulders, allowing her blouse to slip off, followed by her bra.
Their lips met again for a moment, then separated long enough for her to pull off his shirt. When it fell, they returned to their heated kiss. The softness of her bare breasts pressed against his chest sent electricity up his back.
His lips left hers, to kiss his way across her cheek, slipping slightly downward to nibbling her ear, sucking on the lobe, listening to her sighs of approval. Releasing it, he kissed his way back across her neck, then worked his way downward. As he reached the top of her breasts, he began to use his tongue, gradually moving in collapsing circles, until it was licking her nipple, bringing soft moans from her throat. They only increased in volume when he sucked it in, drawing it in deeply between his lips. First one, then the other, raising her to a fevered pitch. His hands worked at getting her jeans unsnapped, then eased down her zipper, sliding his fingers in the opening, to let them lightly slip into her panties.
Releasing her nipple, he knelt to push her jeans down until she could step out of them, leaving only her powder blue Victoria's Secret panties covering her sex. With one finger hooked into each side, he pulled, gradually sliding them downward, until her shaved pubis and the slit of her lips appeared. He pulled them down quickly, so she could step out of them. Looking up at her, he saw approval in her eyes. He rose, lifted her, and placed her on their bed. She was purring softly as he kissed across her body, to lie between her open thighs. Then moving forward, he felt his aching erection press against her wet lips.
“Oh, my god, fuck me, Brian. It's been too long. I need you. Fuck me!” And he did. His prick slid easily into her depths until it could advance no further. He paused and slowly withdrew, repeating this until he was pounding her. The sounds of their bodies slapping together, along with her soft cries of delight, pushed Brian's heat even higher. He drove himself into her until he shot rope after rope of cum into her vagina. Then he gently lay down upon her, breathing hard and fast.
There were no sounds until she spoke. “My god, but that was good. It's only been a week, but I realize how much I love your cock.” Giggling, she snuggled her nose against his.
Having rested, he raised his body so that she wasn't being crushed beneath his weight, and they kissed once more: not the kiss of a husband and wife, but of lovers. The thought flickered across his mind that no matter how much he longed to suck a cock, he could never willingly give up pussy.
They rolled onto their sides as his cock slipped out of her cum-soaked pussy. Lying together, with her in his arms, they talked about love, about their life, about their son. Until finally, with sleep about to overtake them, they separated to their own sides of the bed and drifted off.
When Brian awoke, he looked at the bedside clock, which read 9:15. “Oh, no!” he mumbled. “I'm late for work.” He was about to bound out of bed, wondering why Donna had turned off the alarm. He was standing fully upright when he sat back down to look at the clock. It read “Saturday.” He slapped his head, recalling he'd come back on Friday. He breathed a prayer of thanks for his wife's thoughtful action.
He ambled into the bathroom to drain his bladder, then took a minute to brush his teeth. When he met Donna in the kitchen in a few minutes, he'd want his breath to be sweet. Returning to his bedroom, he saw Oliver sitting on the unmade bed. “Hi, daddy. Can you come lay with me, like you promised?” He realized he was naked and mumbled something about getting some clothes on. Oliver giggled, placing his hand over his mouth, seeing Brian's cock bounce up and down. It was so big! What if Donna came in? “Oliver, daddy can't cuddle you in bed right now. I have to go see mommy,” he explained.
“Mommy's gone shopping. She's not here,” said Oliver.
“Shopping? Gone?” Brian repeated dumbly, as he pulled on a pair of blue shorts and a beige pull-over. In his haste to dress, he almost forgot to put on briefs. Stepping to the dresser, he put the shorts and shirt on top of it, while he took a pair of white briefs, stepped into them, and pulled them up snugly around his waist. Brian's cock had risen to its full apex; he was desperate to get it hidden. With it safely out of sight, only a six-inch bulge showing, he pulled the shorts on and buckled the belt. Slipping the shirt over his head and inserting arms into the sleeves, he had it on as well.
Oliver, looking downcast, began to pout, one sure way to get Brian's attention and perhaps to get his way. Not this time.
Brian's head was spinning. Just being naked, even though Oliver was completely clothed, had a startling effect on him. It would have been so easy to accept his son's invitation to “sit with him” on the bed. In the previous several days at the convention, being naked, and bed, implied hot gay sex. But this was his son, it was out of the question. Or was it. “No!” he commanded himself. It definitely was out of the question.
Walking toward the door, he extended his hand toward Oliver, who immediately hopped down off of the bed and raced to him to take his hand.
“Let's go find something to eat, OK?” Brian opened the door, and together they walked to the kitchen, as he began to answer the nonstop questions Oliver was throwing at him. “What was the hotel like, Daddy?” and many others.
“Let's get something in our stomach,” said Brian, feeling the familiar rumbling of his stomach when he had not eaten for 10 hours. Glancing at the clock to confirm his statement, it read almost 10:00. His homecoming, and the lovemaking that followed, had been almost a whirlwind of events. It also left him tired, as this long slumber demonstrated.
Now standing in the kitchen, Brian was looking into the pantry, surveying the various boxes. Nothing looked good; just ordinary dry cereal. When his eyes shifted to the other boxes, he realized he just didn't want any of the cooked cereal there either. Turning to Oliver, he said, “What say we go over to that waffle place, the one you like so much, for breakfast?”
This brought an immediate reaction from Oliver, who began to dance around the room whooping and shouting. “Hey, sport, how about getting ready, like, you know, shoes? They don't let in people who don’t wear shoes, no matter how cute they are!” This brought Oliver back to reality, but didn't lessen his exuberance. He rushed to hug Brian and said, his voice muffled by his mouth pressing into Brian's shirt, “Thank you, daddy. I love their waffles.”
As Oliver pressed against Brian, those old feelings that he'd tried so hard to suppress came back, and he felt his cock begin to grow. His wish to pull Oliver free from the hug fought with his lusty desire to leave Oliver pressed against him, to feel his erection lengthen and thicken. The matter was settled when Oliver himself released the hug and looked, not up at Brian's face, but at his crotch, at the expanded bulge that plainly showed. Brian, his face beginning to redden, realized that Oliver had felt his erection and was staring at it.
Just as Oliver began to say, “Daddy, do you know that you have a big…,” Brian took Oliver's hand and began to walk to the door between the kitchen and garage. He was desperately hoping that he could distract Oliver's attention from his embarrassing condition.
“We'd better get moving, son. The restaurant could be filling up while we stand here talking,” he said.
“But daddy, Your co…” Oliver began again.
“It's OK, Oliver, men get that way sometimes.” Why was he avoiding saying what Oliver almost said: cock? Then his mind played back Oliver's unfinished sentence, “But daddy, Your co…,” is what he'd been about to say. How did he know about penises and cock? At ten, already! To further remind Brian that his son was growing up in an environment unlike the one he'd been raised in, where penis or peter or thingy were the operative words denoting a boy's sex. And Oliver had felt it growing, knowing exactly what it was. Did he also know why men such as Brian got hard? Could he connect his body pressing against Brian's as the cause? Brian shuddered, realizing that this one simple act of a hug between father and son was bringing many questions to his mind.
Brian pressed the button to raise the door while continuing his random chatter, in the hopes of pushing that question from Oliver's brain; they reached the car, and Brian opened the door for Oliver to get in, which he did compliantly. Closing the door, Brian went to the driver's side, opened the door, and slid in. Glancing at Oliver, he saw the boy looking at his crotch again. For just a moment, he held onto the steering wheel, anticipating Oliver's observation that his cock was not hard any more. Seconds passed; the silence was broken by Oliver's words, “Daddy…,” Here it comes, thought Brian, bracing for the words that he'd have to speak about. “…aren't we going to go?” finished Oliver. When Brian looked over at his son, seat belt firmly holding him to his seat, he saw the normal-looking face, questioning him. “Aren't we going to go, Daddy?” came Oliver's repeated question.
“What?” was Brian's startled reply. “Oh, yes. We are. We're going.” With that, he reached down to insert the key into the ignition and turn it. The engine caught instantly. Brian turned in his seat to look behind him, as he always did. “Why do you turn around, when the mirror is right there?” Donna had questioned him. He'd shrugged and said, “Habit. That's what dad taught me to do, when I was learning to drive.” He backed slowly and carefully out of the garage, and, when away from the door, pushed the button to close it. Once in the street, Brian turned the wheel to the right and accelerated.
“Hooray!” shouted Oliver, almost bowling Brian over with his shout. “I'm gonna get a waffle. With whipped cream on top. Hooray!” Brian could only wince in delight at how much his son loved waffles.
Surprising for a Saturday morning, traffic was light. It didn't take long to arrive at the restaurant. Pulling into a parking slot close to the door, Brian put his hand on Oliver's shoulder to caution him. “When I turn off the car, you open your door only after you've checked outside to be sure no car is trying to pull in there. OK?” Oliver nodded solemnly.
“I know, daddy. You tell me that every time,” he said with a grin.
“Better that I tell you a million times than to find out that a car is pulling in and may hit the door.”
“OK, dad. I got it,” declared Oliver, as Brian shifted into park and switched off the engine. Teasingly, Oliver asked, “Is it OK to open my door now? I checked outside. No car is coming.”
Continuing the game, Brian looked sternly at Oliver's pretty face and said, “Well, if you're absolutely, completely, and totally sure there is no car, you can.” With that, they both unbuckled their seat belts and pushed open their doors. Getting out at the same time, the sound of both doors closing was as a single door had been slammed. Brian walked around the back of the car to where Oliver was waiting for him. “This was different,” he thought. It was more like Oliver to sprint ahead and pull the restaurant door open for him. The boy was growing up a little more, now more likely to wait for Brian than rush ahead.
Looking down at the pretty face, he once again felt that forbidden tug. Oliver was pretty. No way around that. It wasn't just parental pride in having an attractive son. He'd seen more than one man gaze at Oliver when they thought no one was looking at them. Occasionally he had locked eyes on a guy who was taking in his son's pretty face. The face did not display remorse, but rather winked and smiled. Brian knew without asking what was going on in their heads. The brief exchange of forbidden lust that passed between him and the stranger almost left him breathless. After each sighing of a potential perverse predator, Brian became even more protective of his young son. At ten years of age, no boy should have to go through the pawing of some old guy wanting to touch him.