Date: Fri, 14 Jan 2005 14:01:56 -0600 From: H. Rick Cantwell Subject: Rascal part 12 Rascal Part Twelve Cops and Robbers (M/M, M/F, Oral, Anal, Incest, Bisexual) This is a continuing story. Constructive criticism is welcome, at zestful@myexcel.com. Mention the title in the Subject line or I might delete it by accident, thinking it's spam. Hearing from you and NEW readers will help keep alive the desire to continue this tale. --Dick Hickey. If you're not old enough to read stories involving graphic descriptions of sex between consenting males, or if such stories are illegal where you live, do not continue reading beyond this sentence. Rascal Part Twelve Cops and Robbers Normally, Ryan preferred to celebrate his birthday quietly, at home, with as few family and friends as possible. This year was no exception because we were up to the lake. His mom's family had cabins in the area but on different lakes. This year, however, Taylor and Tyler joined us, so the cabin was a little crowded. Also, because Amanda, his mom, was in residence, pajamas were worn by all. The only conciliation Ryan insisted on, was that the three of them were allowed to sleep on the porch in sleeping bags. Lyle convinced Amanda it would probably be for the best. The arrangement was fine as far as I was concerned because it meant I got Ryan's double bed all to myself. Although lonely, I knew Ryan was right outside-- probably having clandestine sex in the moonlight. Like most other weekends, our sex was furtive and limited mostly to boat rides on the lake. Taylor and Tyler especially enjoyed performing sentry duty--that is, when they weren't involved in the act of giving Ryan yet another 'oral' birthday present. Sex with Lyle was impossible, too--for both Ryan AND me--because of Amanda. Even so, Tyler and Taylor offered to practice their cocksucking techniques out on me, so I couldn't really complain. Saturday night, I drove all three kids back, allowing Lyle and Amanda to have the cabin to themselves for a change. The long drive was filled with adult sex talk instigated by three adolescent children. It kept my dick hard the whole time. And, since the three of them sat in the back, Taylor in the middle, I wasn't able to actually see them playing with each other--although I knew from the sounds what was going on. I dropped off Taylor and Tyler first because I was spending the night with Ryan. That would only leave him alone at home for a few hours before Lyle and Amanda returned. Lyle and I had worked out a surprise for Ryan but I didn't want to tip my hand. So, when I left the next morning to go to work, I said as nonchalantly as possible, "How about we get together Thursday?" "Kewl," Rascal said. It had become the habit that I would ask him over whenever it was convenient for ME and he knew better than to beg to come over unless it was really important. "I'll pick you up around nine, okay?" "K," Ryan said, just before kissing me goodbye. The one evil thing he still liked to do was kiss me passionately just as I was leaving for work, knowing I'd be hard all day. "In my heart," I said, touching my chest, "and in my hard," I finished as I touched my crotch. Because the gesture could be done silently, it had become our signature 'friends forever' mantra. Ryan called every day trying to find out what I had planned. By Thursday I still hadn't told him but I gave him his instructions over the phone just before I left the apartment. Jumping in the front seat, Ryan asked, "Why did you want me to meet you at the gate?" "Because we're going for a ride," I said. "Where?" Ryan asked excitedly. "It's a secret." "No! Don't do that to me. You know I can't stand secrets," Ryan whined. "But you like SURPRISES," I said. "Yeah, but if the secret is the surprise then I don't like surprises, either." "Well, I guess I'll have to turn around and go home, then." "No!" Ryan said, sulking. "It's just not fair that everybody keeps secrets but I have to tell Daddy everything." "You know that's for your own good. He loves you and wants to protect you." "So where are we goin'?" Ryan asked casually, thinking he could trick me into forgetting it was a secret. "Downtown. Tell me about what's happening at school." "Next Tuesday is our last day before it lets out for summer." Ryan went on to talk non-stop about everything that was going on in his life. Interrupting him, I said, "I've got to stop in here for a minute." After I pulled into the parking lot of the DMV, Ryan asked, "Want me to stay here?" "No, you can come in with me. It shouldn't take long but you never know." When we got to the reception counter, I simply said, "Driver permits." "Follow the yellow line," the bored clerk said dryly. "Next." Once we were standing in front of the "Parking Permits" window at the end of the yellow line, we were told by a snippy clerk, "That's the orange line." "The receptionist told us it was the yellow line," I argued. Looking at the receptionist as if for the first time in his life, he said, "Must be color blind." "Deaf, too. I distinctly said 'driver permits'." "Must be. Orange line," he said disinterestedly. "Thanks," I said, not really meaning it. We moved to the orange line window. Thankfully, it was a short line and I was, indifferently, handed the form to fill out. "You want to fill this out or do you want me to?" I asked. "What is it?" "A request for a learner's permit." Ryan's eyes bulged with excitement. "You're shittin' me!" he screamed. "Young man! We will have none of that kind of talk in here," I scolded, barely able to suppress a smile as I said it. Ryan was jumping around, flailing his arms and performing every other move he'd ever seen demonstrated in the end zone after a touchdown. When he finally calmed down he said, "Does Daddy know? He said there was no way. He gave me a gazillion excuses why I couldn't get a permit. He set all this up, didn't he? Just wait'll I get home. He's gonna really get it. Hey, wait a minute, you were in on this all along. You're gonna have to help me get back at him, you skunk!" "Let's get your permit first." "Oh, yeah." A short time later, Ryan had the form filled out. He even put "Rascal" in the space that asked if he had ever used another name. I think it was the space women used to indicate their maiden names. Once he had his temporary learner's permit validated by the clerk, he folded it neatly and put it in his billfold. As we headed across the parking lot to the car, I pulled a second set of keys out of my pocket. The key ring fob spelled RYAN in fake gold. "Hey, Rascal, catch!" I said, as I tossed them in the air toward him. He caught them, stopped dead in his tracks and looked at them with disbelief. I crossed in front of him to stand by the passenger door. "You wanna drive?" "Holy Cripes! You MEAN it, Uncle Dickey?" "Only as far as the parking lot exit. Then we switch places. Saturday, I'll take you somewhere safe and help you learn how to drive." "All right!" As he got behind the wheel, he said, "I promise, I'll do everything you tell me to do. I won't speed, I won't drink and drive, I won't even EAT and drive. And I'll make all my friends wear their seatbelts. Oh! And I won't talk on the phone. Hell, passengers can't even talk on the phone. And they can't talk to me either or distract me in any way. I'll ..." "Okay, but first, you have to move the seat and reposition the mirrors." Ryan's feet barely touched the pedals after he moved the seat forward. He moved the rearview mirror but he had trouble seeing anything behind him. I could see he was getting frustrated so I said, "Hold on. Let me try something." I got out and opened the trunk where I kept a spare blanket. I folded it over several times and tucked it under Ryan's butt. "Now I can't reach the gas pedal." Ryan whined. We tried rearranging things but we could tell it just wasn't going to work. "I hate to say this, but I don't think you'll even be able to drive to the exit." With just a hint of disappointment in his voice, he said, "Yeah, I know, safety first." Once we were on our way back to his house, I said, "It's better that it happened now than Saturday. This way, I can have time to figure something out." "Like what?" he asked disgusted. "Put me on the rack like in those horror movies and stretch me?" "That sounds like fun, but I have some other ideas in mind." "Do you think there's something wrong with me, Uncle Dickey? You know, some reason why I'm not growing taller?" "It'll happen, Rascal. Just be patient. And if it doesn't happen, I'll still love you." "I know you will," Ryan said, holding back tears. When we got back to Ryan's, I said, "I can't come in today. Got things to do. I'll pick you up Saturday around noon, okay?" "K." "And be sure you've eaten. I'm not buying you lunch!" True to my word, I picked Ryan up Saturday morning. "Did you figure out anything yet?" Ryan asked. "I think so. We'll see once we get to the test track." A state police academy and officecomplex occupied about 80 acres just outside of town. It had a blacktop parking lot where troopers were trained to maneuver hairpin turns, perform defensive and offensive maneuvers during high-speed chases and drive in inclement weather. The obstacle course had cones and breakaway posts, fake shrubs at intersections that made it difficult to see around and hills where you had to also navigate curves. Of course, the rainmaker and snow machine wouldn't be in operation on a Saturday but Ryan wasn't ready for that anyway. Kevin knew the post commander but he left it up to Lyle to arrange with the commander for us to use the course. After we walked into the office, we identified ourselves and the duty officer handed me a credit card style key. "This will get you in. It'll only work once and it's only set for today. Drive around back and be off the course by 4 PM." "Thank you, sir," Ryan said, waving excitedly as we left. The duty officer waved self-consciously, like it wasn't something he was accustomed to doing. Even so, he said, "Good luck." Once I started around to the gate, I wondered if the guard was talking to Ryan or me. Before we switched places, I showed Ryan a wedge-shaped pillow I'd made. I designed it so Ryan sat higher on the seat and closer to the steering wheel. Then I strapped four-inch blocks of wood on the gas pedal and the brake. "Shall we begin?" I asked, once Ryan was comfortable and I was strapped in the passenger seat. Taking a deep breath, Ryan said, "Uncle Dickey, I'm scared. I'm not sure I can control something this big ... this deadly." "Ryan, you'll never know for sure until you try. We're gonna take it one step at a time. Once you feel comfortable with one aspect of driving, I'll train you in another. Today, we're just gonna start with straight-forward driving. No backing up. No parallel parking." "It's not that," Ryan said. "I know I can drive ... and probably back up and park--eventually. What I'm talking about is ... well, what if I get in an accident and kill someone. I'd never be able to live with myself." "Everyone thinks about that when they first start driving. If they don't, they're fools. Hell, when I hear about a fatality on the late news, I say to myself, 'There, but for the grace of God, go I.' But the truth of the matter is--unless you live in New York or someplace like that, you've gotta learn to drive." "I know, but ..." "That's why we're here. There's no traffic, no distractions ..." "Okay," Another deep breath and he said, "Here goes." "Good boy. Now ... listen to what I say all the way through before you start. Then, repeat it back to me." "Gotcha." "In new cars, you can't put it in gear without having your foot on the brake. Older cars don't have that safety feature, so you have to be careful not to accidentally shift a car into gear. I'm guessing you know which is the gas and which is the brake." "Yeah, I'm not that dumb!" "But you're blond, so I had to ask," I said with a smile, hoping to calm him down with a little levity. "You know me better than that." "I know you inside and out but we're not here to talk about sex, we're here to teach you how to drive." "What do I do to make sure I stay in my own lane? I've seen guys driving down the street like they wanted their lane in the middle of the road." "See the ornament in the center of the hood?" "Yeah." "If, from your position in the driver's seat, you look at that and keep it running along the curb or the right edge of the road, you'll be able to keep the car heading straight." "Really?" "It's just an optical illusion that the ornament looks like it's on the edge of the road. This half of the car and another foot or so is still in the lane. New cars, like your dad's don't have hood ornaments. The safety council says it's to reduce injuries to pedestrians who get hit. If you ask me, it's the insurance industry dictating to the auto industry. They don't want to keep paying out for hood ornaments when they're reported stolen. Most often, the owners rip 'em off to make jewelry out of 'em and then report 'em stolen to get the insurance money." "Okay. Okay, I get it. Back to me, okay? Since this is just one big blacktop parking lot, I use the solid white line as the edge of the road." "You got it, son. See, you don't have anything to worry about. You're a bright boy." The lessons went well and after about twenty minutes, I saw Ryan finally relax a bit. Over the next hour, we got out of the car twice to let him stretch. I took the time to massage his neck muscles and let him get some blood back into his white knuckles. During the second hour, he neglected to stop at one of the stop signs. I said in a conversational tone, "Uh, Rascal, do you know what the red octagonal sign with the word 'Stop' means?" He drove another mile, taking time to think. I couldn't imagine why he didn't respond immediately but I've learned to never rush Ryan. With a smile of satisfaction, like he'd come up with the answer to a difficult physics question, he said, "Stomp The Other Pedal?" I smiled at his inventiveness. "So why didn't you stop at that last stop sign?" His jaw dropped before he asked, "Really?" Are you sure?" Then he DID stomp the other pedal. "Oh my god, don't tell me that! I could have killed someone." "You're right," I said. Then I kept quiet while he thought about it. I didn't want to tell him it was all right, because it wasn't. I didn't want to ease the pain of suffering over what could have happened because he needed to feel the guilt. After what seemed like an eternity, Ryan asked, "You want to trade places?" "Do you want to?" I asked. "I'm not gonna make you drive if you don't want to. If you're asking me if I'm afraid to ride with you, then the answer is no. You're doing fine. I can't tell you HOW many stop signs I've driven through in my lifetime. I just try not to make a habit of it." During the rest of the afternoon, I taught him how to slow down when heading into a banked curve and how to speed up coming out of it. He tried backing up once or twice but we decided to tackle that another day. We successfully navigated right and left turns on simulated street intersections painted on the blacktop, including the one with the blind-corner hedge. As we were heading back to the gate, about 3:30, I was startled to see a state trooper pull up behind us with his lights flashing. "Oh my god! Where the hell did HE come from? What do I do now?" "Click on your turn signal, to show him you know he's there. Now, slow down and gently pull over to the right. Not too far, just about half the car width." As Ryan did that, I said, "You're doin' good. Now, come to a full stop and put it in park." "Do I shut it off?" "Not unless he tells you to but put both hands high on the steering wheel where he can see them." "Hey," Ryan said with a quizzical tone, "did you arrange for this? You know, like a test?" "No," I said grimly. "I thought we were gonna be the only ones out here. It's not like the state makes this available to everyone. Roll your window down." I heard the crunch of boot heels against grainy blacktop as he approached. "License and registration, please." "Uh ... all I've got is my learner's permit. What's a registration?" "It's in the glove box, sir. Okay if I get it?" I asked. "Before you open it, is there anything in there I should know about?" "No, sir," I said. "Go ahead." After I handed the cop the registration, Ryan reached to his right to unbuckle his seat belt and the cop shouted, "Freeze!" "His permit is in his wallet, sir," I said, trying to keep Ryan calm and the officer informed. "Okay, go ahead" he said grudgingly. After looking at the permit and the registration he shouted, "Out of the car!" "What?" I shouted indignantly. "You!" he said to me, "Stay where you are and put your hands on the dashboard." "Go ahead," I said to Ryan, hoping the cop was trying to educate Ryan in the proper way to respond when pulled over. "Step back here, put your hands on the top of the car and spread your legs," I heard the cop say. 'That's a little extreme,' I thought. Instead, I said, "Sir, may I get out of the car? I think I can explain ..." "Stay where you are!" he shouted. After he realized Ryan couldn't touch the top of the car AND step back, too, he said, "Okay, uh ... lean over the rear quarter panel and put your hands flat on the trunk, then step back until you're bent over and spread your legs." As I looked over my shoulder, I saw the cop was keeping an eye on me, too. I wondered if Lyle had set this up without telling me, or perhaps Kevin--like the lake incident. "Stay there and don't move," the cop said as he walked over to my side of the car. He rapped on my window and commanded, "Get out of the car, sir." "We have permission to be here," I said as I got out of the car. "Hands on the roof, step back and spread your legs." "Aren't you listening to me?" I asked in disbelief. I saw his nametag read "Dufour." "Do you have anything in your pockets that will poke or cut me?" "No, sir," I said resolutely. I figured if he convinced himself we were not a threat, he'd listen to reason. Dufour patted me down: Arms, chest, waist, hips, thighs, calves and ankles. "Stay right here. Keep your hands where I can see them." "What's this all about?" "And keep quiet." 'This guy must not be good at multi-tasking,' I thought sarcastically. When Dufour got back to Ryan's side of the car, he asked, "Do you have anything in your pants that will poke me?" "Just my stiffy," Ryan said. "Ryan! Behave!" I said. Looking at Dufour, I saw he was not amused. "If I poke myself with a needle, boy, it's not gonna go well for you." "I don't do drugs," Ryan said belligerently. "Why are you doing this? I haven't done anything wrong." "This track is off limits. Your learner's permit was just issued a couple of days ago. The car is registered to someone else. How do I know you didn't steal this car to go for a joy ride?" I couldn't see what was happening below the trunk lid, but as Dufour patted Ryan down, I noticed the officer flinched when his hand came in contact with Ryan's ever-present erection. "I've got a key card to the gate in the car. How could I get that without permission?" Ryan asked in a voice that indicated he was impatient with the cop's thick-headed mentality. About then, another patrol car pulled up and parked at a slight angle in front of my car. "Dufour, what's up?" "Hey, Wilson. Caught these two trespassing." "Trespassing? How can we be trespassing when we have permission?" Ryan asked belligerently. "Officer Wilson, can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked. "I can explain everything." "In a minute," Wilson said. He and Dufour walked away from us to talk in private. He looked at Ryan's learner's permit and the registration. Then Wilson swaggered over to me. His swagger said, "Bad Ass" but his smile softened the image. "Talk to me." "We got permission to use the track over a month ago. We were given a key to the gate by the duty officer. How else would we have gotten in?" I said, the inflection in my voice rising with each sentence. "What was the officer's name?" Wilson asked. "I don't know. I didn't look. I didn't think I'd have a need to remember it." "Do you have something in writing?" "No! But how else would I get the key card?" I asked, almost yelling. "Calm down." Wilson said. "I wouldn't be all worked up if Officer Dufour hadn't treated us like common criminals! I mean, really! Look at Ryan. Does he look like a criminal? A car thief?" "Looks can be deceiving, sir." Wilson said. "That's one of the first things every officer is taught. Can I see some identification, please?" I handed him my driver's license. While he looked it over, I asked, "Can we go talk to the duty officer? He has our names on his list." "Yeah, let's do that," Wilson said. "Let me remove the blocks off the pedal and I'll drive." "Uh, no, sir. We'll bring you back once we've got this straightened out." I rolled my eyes. "Dufour, take the kid up to the security office. We'll meet you there." "NO!" I shouted. Then with more restraint, I said, "Uh, could you take Ryan? I'll ride with Officer Dufour." Wilson looked at me quizzically. "I'll explain later but, please, I'd rather Ryan ride with you." Wilson's eyes darted back and forth between Dufour and Ryan. "Dufour, you take Mr. Hickey. I'll take the boy." Dufour scowled at me as I got in the back of the cruiser. Ryan jumped in the back of Wilson's car like it was an amusement park ride. As soon as Officer Wilson was behind the wheel, I saw Ryan start chattering incessantly. "This better be on the up-and-up," Dufour said to me, leaving out whatever threat he intended to imply. "What else could it be?" I asked. "Terrorist are everywhere," Dufour said. I rolled my eyes but I reluctantly had to agree. "I assure you, we'll all laugh about this later." "That kid better keep a civil tongue in his mouth or he'll be laughing out the other side of his face." "What?" I asked incredulously. "He better learn not to talk back to police officers." "What are you talking about?" "We don't appreciate a smart mouth." "Like what?" "That comment about pokin' me with his dick." 'Oh, jeez, another homophobic cop who thinks he's God's gift to the world,' I thought, but instead I said, "He's a kid who's at that age when everything revolves around his dick." "Well, he better learn to control his mouth." I thought, 'Maybe you better, too.' As the four of us walked into the security office, the officer asked, "How'd the driving go?" "Fine. Excellent, actually," I said. "But there seems to be a misunderstanding with these officers." "What's the problem?" the duty officer asked. Thankfully, he was not wearing a nametag. "Dufour found them on the track and thought they crashed the gate to go for a joy ride," Wilson said. Looking at Dufour, the duty officer said, "Did you call it in?" "No," Dufour said. "Well, if you had, you could have saved the department some embarrassment. This is the son of the regional director of the FBI. This is his driving instructor." "He didn't say anything about that," Dufour said. "Would you have believed him?" Then, before Dufour could reply, the duty officer said, "Wilson, would you like to give these two a personal VIP tour of the facilities?" Seeing Ryan's eyes brighten, Wilson said, "Sure. I'd be glad to." "Dufour, you go with 'em. You might learn a thing or two." "Yes sir." I don't know much about rank in the police force but I figured a weekend duty officer would be low man on the list. Bewildered, I thought, 'This guy apparently commands a lot of respect and it's not because of his age!' As I wondered about it, we began our tour. For the most part, the street level housed offices facing well- manicured gardens. The few offices that faced the test track were drab but functional. The next level down housed a series of classrooms with individual desks similar to those in high school instead of cafeteria style tables like they use in college, where students sit side-by-side. 'I guess police officers in training try to cheat on their tests, too,' I thought. Down the hall was a brightly lit workout room with weight, speed and strength training apparatus. That area connected to a gang-style shower room where there were several hydro-therapy tubs. "What are these for?" Ryan asked, pointing to one oblong tank with a seat attached to the outside. "That particular one is for the arm," Wilson said. "If a cop injures his forearm or biceps, he can soak it in there to help ease the pain and improve the healing process. There are tubs for feet, legs or whatever muscles might be aching." "I got a muscle that's aching," Ryan said, cupping his crotch. Wilson looked at Ryan and then at me. I looked at Dufour who was scowling at Ryan. "That happens to most guys, Ryan. I wouldn't worry about it," Wilson said. "It just happens to HIM more than most," I said. "I had a brother like that," Wilson said. "What did he do about it?" "Cold showers, mostly. But he even got used to that. He was the only kid I knew who could work up a head of lather in cold water." Then he made a quick jack-off motion with his hand. "Don't give the kid any ideas," I said, smiling. "We just got him trained to quit when the water gets cold," I chuckled. "Sorry," Wilson said with a shrug. "The next room over is the locker room. It's accessible from the shower room on this side and the wardroom on the other." Passing through the locker room into the wardroom where all the paperwork was prepared and filed, we saw several rows of bins with digital locks on them. "When we get off work or finish classes, we have to put our weapons in one of these bins. It helps insure that there won't be any accidental discharges." "Is that like premature ejaculation, Uncle Dickey?" "Ryan," I admonished. Wilson smiled. Dufour didn't. "There's no way we can prevent that," Wilson said with a grin. "Except practice and conditioning," Ryan said. "You might be on to something, there," Wilson said. "Now, let's take the elevator to the tower." We passed through the wardroom to an elevator that had both an UP button as well as a DOWN button. "What's below here?" Ryan asked. "I thought we were already in the basement." "The holding cells for convicted felons in transit to the state pen." "Really!" Ryan squealed. "Can we go see?" Then, just as quickly, he looked over at me contritely like he thought it might bring back bad memories for me. I smiled to assure him I was okay with it. "That's not a good idea," Dufour said. "Besides, you need a key to open the elevator door once you're down there." As the elevator ascended, Wilson said, "The tower has delicate cameras and equipment in it. Don't touch anything. They're highly calibrated instruments." We walked off the elevator into a room that looked like what an air traffic controller would use. "We videotape cadets when they're learning to drive--you know, like high speed maneuvers--so we can play them back in slow motion and explain what they did wrong." "And what they did right, I hope," Ryan said. "Now there's a novel concept! We also train on satellite tracking equipment up here, using the test drivers as targets." "Wow, that would be neat! Can you really read the license plate of a moving vehicle?" Ryan asked. "Sure can," Dufour said proudly. "So you could see if somebody was having sex in the back seat, huh?" "If it was a convertible with the top down, sure," Wilson said. "No, you're not gonna try it," I said, reading Ryan's mind. "Why not?" Ryan whined. "I've been horny ever since Dufuss felt me up." "That's 'Dufour,'" I scolded even before I saw Dufour bristle for a fight. "Now apologize." Looking at Dufour contritely, Ryan said, "I'm sorry I got a hard-on when you felt me up." "I did not!" Dufour shouted. Looking at Wilson, he added, "I frisked him. That's all!" Seeing no blank walls in the tower of windows, Ryan looked at Wilson and said, "Lean against the elevator door and I'll show you what he did." "That won't be necessary, Ryan," I said. "We'll just have to agree to disagree." "No, I'd be interested to see just how Dufour frisked him," Wilson said. "Only I think Ryan should demonstrate on Officer Dufour." Dufour's eyes rounded and his jaw clenched in a threatening manner. "Turn around," Wilson said, twirling his index finger in the air. Dufour put his left hand on the door but kept his right hand on the flap over his weapon so Ryan couldn't snatch it. "Step back and spread 'em," Ryan said authoritatively. "He patted my arms and chest. I can't reach up there but he did. Then he put his hands like this," Ryan said, putting his palms flat on each of Dufour's hips. "He brought 'em around like this and when he got to my package, he went like this." Ryan cupped Dufor's basket and heaved up viciously like he was trying to crush Dufour's nuts. "I did not," Dufour said, grunting from the sudden upward thrust of his balls. "Then he asked me if I had anything in my pants I could poke him with," Ryan said. Wilson smiled but Dufour couldn't see it because he was looking skyward like he was praying to the gods of Truth and Justice. "It wouldn't have been so bad," Ryan said, "if he'd have left it at that, but then he ran his hands over my butt cheeks. I know I've got a cute butt, but that's no reason to treat me like a prostitute!" To demonstrate, Ryan sensuously ran his hands over Dufour's butt. "Then he rubbed his hands up and down my legs like he was jacking off. I've seen pat downs on TV and this wasn't an ordinary pat down." "Did you see any of this?" Wilson asked me. "No, he kept me on one side of the car and Ryan on the other. I guess he thought if the two of us got together we could overpower him." Dufour shot me a look of hatred. "Okay, Dufour, you're excused. Secure your weapon and go home." "Yes, sir." Dufour said respectfully. It looked like he was going to say something else--probably in his defense--but, instead he said, "Thank you, sir." Once the elevator descended with Dufour in it, leaving just the three of us in the tower, Wilson asked, "Do you want to press charges?" I looked at Ryan. He had a mischievous grin on his face. "Oh, god! Ryan, did you make that up?" "What?" Wilson shouted. "Just part of it. He really did touch me, you know, down there. But he didn't hurt me." "Why would you say he did?" I asked. "He had it coming. He's a mean man and he needs to know that he has to respect people. Cops can't be judge, jury and executioner just because they don't like something you say." "What did you say that made him mad?" Wilson asked. "Well, when he asked if I had anything in my pants that would poke him, I told him my stiffy." Wilson tried to suppress a smile but, again, he didn't succeed. "But he really did grope me longer than he should have." "That was probably because he wasn't expecting you to be as big as you are--at least, down there," I said. "Maybe he thought you had a bag of dope in your underpants." Gripping his erection through the material of his cargo shorts, Ryan asked, "Does this look like a bag of dope to you? Besides, he deserved to be humiliated, like he did to me. That's why I said the stuff I did. Hell, all he had to do was ask and I'd have shown it to him." Wilson's eyes were glued to Ryan's erection. "Uh, we can't ask motorists to strip until we get 'em back to the precinct." In a coquettish tone, Ryan said, "If you hadn't come along, Officer Wilson, he probably would have dragged me in here and strip- searched me." "You'd love it!" I said. Then to Wilson, I said, "He has a vivid imagination but he's not a liar. He can read people's motives like a psychic." "I'll check the videotape in the patrol car. If there's any need to reprimand him, I'll do it." "Can we go to the holding cells now?" Ryan asked. "Uh ... well ... sure. Let me drop off my weapon and I'll take you down." "Ooh, he's gonna take me down" Ryan said, bending his right elbow like he had someone in a head lock. We stopped at the wardroom, secured his sidearm and descended to the lower level. After unlocking the elevator doors, we entered a cavernous area of cells, none of which had walls. "Each of the individual cells has access to these 'runs'," Wilson said. "Basically, these long narrow cells are used to give the inmates a place to exercise, walk or run. Only one is allowed out of their cell at a time." "There's no one here, now?" Ryan asked, looking around. "No. If there were, you two would be getting catcalls and wolf whistles. They like fresh meat." "Like on TV." "Sorta. But unlike TV, these guys would rip you a new ..." "Asshole?" Ryan said. "It's okay. I know what guys in prison do. I know all about butt fuckin'." "What you THINK you know and what really happens are two different things," Wilson said in a kindly but educational tone. "So where do you do your strip-searches?" Ryan asked. "Down here," Wilson said. We walked down to the first door and went in. There was nothing but a wooden board bolted onto two pipes sticking out of the concrete floor and a mirror embedded on one wall. "Does the guy take his own clothes off or do you guys do it?" Ryan asked. "We're not supposed to touch any possessions of theirs except their body. That way, we can't be accused of planting evidence." "But some guys won't get undressed, huh?" Ryan asked knowingly. "Yeah, so then we have to." "After they're undressed, whaddya do?" "I'm not usually the one who does it. There are troopers specially trained to do cavity searches." "Like your mouth, ears, nose and poop chute, right?" "Yeah," Wilson said, blushing. "Let's strip-search Uncle Dickey." "No, that's okay," Wilson said. "Then do me!" Ryan said. "Definitely can't do that." "Why not?" "Can't strip search a minor without someone from Child Protective Services being in the next room." Wilson pointed a thumb toward the mirror. "Uncle Dickey's here to protect me. That's a one-way mirror, isn't it? He could go in there and watch." "No, we can't do that." "Well then, I'll just have to commit a crime and get hauled down here to find out what it's like." "Ryan," I said in my warning tone. "I bet Kevin knows someone who'll do it." Ryan said thoughtfully. "Kevin? Kevin who?" Wilson asked. "I don't know. He's a cop. He knows everybody important." "Does he have a nickname for you?" Wilson asked with renewed interest. "I'm not sure." Looking up at me, Ryan asked, "Does Kevin call me Rascal?" "Rascal!" Wilson shouted. "Are you Rascal?" he asked bewildered. "Yeah!" Ryan brightened. "Do you know Kevin?" "I think I might. Did you go up north over Memorial Day weekend?" "Yeah. That was me," Ryan said proudly. "Oh, fuck!" Wilson said in a relieved tone of voice. "Jeeze O' Peets. All this time, I've been trying to figure out some way to convince you guys not to report Dufour." Ryan got a gleam in his eye. "Well ... I know a way." "What's that?" "Let ME strip-search YOU!" Ryan said. "Uh, no ... uh ..." "Okay," Ryan said flippantly. I rolled my eyes and Wilson said, "What?" "I know Ryan and he's not gonna let this go that easily. I can tell by that off-hand tone of voice ... by how he appeared to just let it drop. He's already thinking up some way of getting even with Dufour for putting us through hell out there when we already had permission to be on the track." "Yeah. It was his fault for not checkin' first. The duty officer said so," Ryan said defiantly. "Can't we talk about this? You know, agree on some ..." "That's okay," Ryan said, "I'll bet Kevin can help. All I need is for him to get me some distinguishing mark on Dufour's body and I can tell the judge that Dufour exposed himself to me, too." "I told you," I said to Wilson. "And it didn't take long. God forbid if he gets time to think about it." "Ryan," Wilson said in a pleading tone, "what can we do to make this up to you? Dufour was doing his duty. He might have taken it a little too far but that's no reason to ruin his career." "I know," Ryan said defeated. "I just want to play ... uh ..." "Cops and robbers?" I asked, knowing how Ryan loves to be 'in the moment' so to speak. "Yeah," he said in that dejected tone, "only I wanted to be the cop and, you know, frisk the guy and all." His lower lip stuck out as he looked up with those soulful eyes at Wilson. "Well, you got to frisk Dufour," Wilson said. "Yeah but he was no fun." Then, in the tone of an afterthought, he asked, "By the way, does he have a dick? I didn't feel one." "Uh ... I've never checked. Actually, now that I think about it, I've never had the opportunity to check. He comes to work in his uniform and leaves in it, too. He never works out in the gym, so ..." Ryan held up his pinkie finger. I nodded in understanding. "So, you wanna play cops and robbers?" Ryan asked excitedly like he was talking to Tyler instead of adults. Wilson looked over at me. I shrugged my shoulders. "It's your call. He's done just about everything he can with me." "Kevin said you're up to just about anything. Is that true?" Wilson asked. "Fuck yeah!" Ryan said in a challenging tone. "But, are you game for TRYING anything?" "We have to go down to the shower room. There's no cameras in there." "Hey, I wouldn't mind having a ..." Ryan said. "No!" Both of us said sternly. In the shower room, Ryan said, "Okay you two, hands against the wall, step back and spread 'em." When we did, Ryan used his foot to kick Wilson's feet farther apart. "You got anything in your pockets that will stick me or cut me?" "No, sir." Wilson said. After a quick pat down, Ryan stuck his hand in Wilson's right side pocket. I could see he was playing with the cockmeat he found. "What's this you've got in your underwear? Drugs?" "No, sir, I don't do drugs." "You're gonna wish you did when I'm finished with you, punk." Removing his hand, he said, "Get undressed, both of you." We turned toward each other as we each did a seductive strip. Originally, it started out to please Ryan but part way through we both knew we were stripping to please each other. Apparently, Ryan was enjoying it because he allowed us to take our time. "Okay, both of you, turn and face that wall," Ryan said, pointing. "Bend over and grab your ankles. Now, back your butt up to Wilson's face," Once I was in position, Ryan got behind Wilson and said, "Do to ... uh ... your robbery buddy exactly what I do to you." I felt Wilson's tongue start rimming me, so I knew what Ryan was doing to Wilson. Then, a hand grabbed my ball bag and stretched down on it. That was followed by the other hand getting a firm grip on my dick. What was semi-flaccid by the time we finished undressing, was rock hard by the time Wilson wrapped his fingers around it. "Jesus! You're huge!" Wilson said. "You're not so bad yourself, Wilson," Ryan said. "Thank you, sir." Wilson pulled my cock between my legs and started sucking it, so I guessed Ryan was sucking Wilson. Since I had to bend over a little farther to ease the tension on my cock, I looked between my legs to see Ryan's back. He was sitting on the floor with Wilson's cock in his mouth, I presumed, while he tore open a condom packet. 'I hope he's got enough for all of us,' I thought. Ryan's head was in the way but I could tell he was rolling the condom down the length of Wilson's pecker. I didn't get a chance to see it though because I was getting a kink in my neck and had to look up at the wall to relieve it. Then Ryan stood up and began fucking Wilson. "You can fuck your buddy any way you want. Just give him a good ride," Ryan said. I heard Ryan's hips smacking Wilson's butt cheeks like he was drilling for oil. A moment later, I felt Wilson ease into my waiting hole. I bent over just long enough to see his big bull balls slap into mine like one of those ball bearing, perpetual motion devices you find in executive's office. The ones that swing like a pendulum into each other causing the one on the other end to snap away and swing back into the device over and over. I know cocks can sometimes feel bigger than they really are when you feel them but can't see them. 'Wilson's has to be one of those,' I thought. 'No one could have a cock as big around as the one up my ass feels.' I wanted to reach behind me to encircle it with my fingers and then look at the diameter just to prove something to myself--but I didn't. Instead, I enjoyed the pounding my ass was getting. All the while, Ryan made animal noises as he fucked Wilson. Wilson, on the other hand, made grunting noises as Ryan fucked HIM and groaning sounds as HE fucked me. Because we were in the shower room, the noises bounced off the tile walls to make it sound like a barracks full of troopers were fucking a holding pen full of errant prisoners. "Oh, man, this is one tight ass, sir. Permission to cum, sir, Wilson groaned. From the smile on Ryan's face, I knew he liked being called 'sir.' "Okay," Ryan said, slapping Wilson's ass, "but then your buddy gets to fuck you! "Awh, jeeze," Wilson grunted almost immediately. Then I felt his cock jerk in my ass. Several spasms later he pulled out--reluctantly. Lay down on your back so he can play with your dick while he fucks you." When Wilson was getting into position, his back flinched as it touched the cold tiles of the floor. Ryan shouted, "Hey! I didn't get MY butt licked!" He straddled Wilson's face and squatted. "Eat my ass." "Yes, sir." Wilson said as Ryan's ass muffled his response. "Uh, Officer Ryan," I said, playing along, "we need another condom." "It's okay, I know you're clean." "Officer Ryan, sir, we've just met. There's no way you could know that. Besides, as an officer of the law, you're required to follow the rules ... go by the book." "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Damn his tongue is talented." "I thought so, too." "Mmph mmmm," Wilson said, which I figured was "Thank you." From the sounds, I knew Wilson was using more than his tongue. Ryan's cock bobbed and weaved as Wilson's mouth munched on Ryan's beautiful rosebud. Wilson opened his jaw wide and clamped down forcibly on that soft delicate tissue tucked just behind Ryan's balls. The expression on Ryan's face was a cross between sexual delight and thoughtful calculation. "Take Wilson's rubber off so it turns inside out and put it on your own cock. Then you can fuck him. After all, it's his own cum, so he can't infect himself." I winked at Ryan for coming up with a plausible solution. Reaching for the used condom, I studied Wilson's cock. It had gone a little soft, so it wasn't as big but it was still formidable. Unlike most cocks which were mostly round, Wilson's was almost flat. It wasn't quite oval, either. It was more elliptical. It looked to be about two and a half inches across the top and an inch top to bottom. 'No wonder it felt so big,' I thought, 'it stretched my ass muscle in directions it normally didn't stretch.' While Wilson noisily ate Ryan's ass, Ryan, using his fingers as a squeegee, was removing the cum off Wilson's cock and rubbing it on the asshole I was about to fuck. Since my dick was partially deflated, I was able to pull it on like an old sock and then jack off a little to pump it up to full-hard. "Fuck that ass, dude!" Ryan said, smiling at me. Then, he gripped Wilson's balls and said, "If you bite my ass, I'll rip these off and feed 'em to my dog." We exchanged a quick wink, knowing he was allergic to pets. I knelt between Wilson's splayed legs and lifted his knees to my shoulders. Then I nuzzled his butt hole with my fat cock crown. Silently, I mouthed "One, two, three." Then I plunged in. Ryan raised up at that same moment and Wilson screamed "Awwwh God!" It echoed throughout the room. Before he could recover, I pulled out and slammed back in, again and again. "Ah, God, yes!" Wilson shouted. "Yes. Just like that, you asshole fucker. Batter my mutha-fuckin' hole. I need it hot and hard and rougher 'n a corncob asswipe. Oh, please, dear god, let this fuck last forever. Jesus! Your dick is so fuckin' long I can feel it poking my heart with every mother-fuckin' upstroke. Harder. Give me a mother-fuckin' heart attack. I wanna die happy." "Oh, good, there you are," the duty officer said casually. "Jesus!" Wilson shouted, forcing me away, jumping up and covering his crotch. "Don't sneak up on a guy like that. You just about gave me a fuckin' heart attack." "I tried whistling but I guess you couldn't hear me for all the cussing going on." "Oh yeah," Wilson said blushing, "but what are you doin' here, anyway?" "Owens relieved me and I was getting ready to leave when it occurred to me that I remembered Dufour leaving but I didn't remember you three leaving. I looked around upstairs and didn't see you, so I figured you got stuck down here because you forgot your key to the elevator or something." "Uh, thanks," Wilson said, still covering his genitals." "You'll want to get that car off the track before six." "What time IS it?" "Almost six." "Shit! Uh, guys ..." "Yeah we get the idea," I said. "Uh, Commander, you're not gonna ... uh ..." "The 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy doesn't apply to us. There's no problem with being gay unless you engage in unsavory practices such as unsolicited recruitment, coercion, rape, blackmail ..." "Thanks," Wilson said sincerely. "Or pederasty." "I don't see any under-aged kids," Ryan said. "Do you guys?" "No," Wilson said. "Nope," I agreed. "No. I'm sure you don't," the commander said. "You got your key?" "Yes, sir," Wilson said. "See you tomorrow," the commander said. Then as he turned to leave, he said, "I just hope I don't see quite so much of you tomorrow." After he left, I asked, "Are you in trouble?" "I don't think so." "How can you be sure?" Following Wilson's lead, I gestured for Ryan to start getting dressed. "It's just a hunch but I'm thinking he was just curious. I think he knew, before he came down here, what he'd find." "Why do you say that?" I asked, continuing to dress. "Are Ryan and I THAT obvious?" "No, of course not. He knows I couldn't get into this area without a key because I have to unlock the elevator door from the inside. AND he knows I have to use the same key to get back into the elevator." "So why did he come down here?" "I guess I'll find out when he's ready to tell me." "So this will be used as blackmail, later, to get you to do something for him?" "No, that wouldn't be honorable. But he knows I'll always be more supportive of his policy changes ... more cooperative, knowing that he knows about me." "Well, isn't that blackmail?" Ray asked. "More like him having the upper hand." As we headed toward the elevator Ryan asked, "How come a commander is playing duty officer?" "He does that occasionally. Just to keep in touch with the way things are running." "Cool." "Yeah, he's pretty contemporary with his policies." Wilson unlocked the elevator and with a toss of his head toward the shower room, he said, "Is there any chance we could finish this sometime?" "My place is available," I said. "Can't tonight," Wilson said, "we're having company for dinner and I'm gonna get my ass chewed for being late, as it is." With a western drawl, Ryan said, "Well, it was some mighty fine eatin' if I do say so, myself." Looking at Wilson's ring finger as the elevator began its assent, I asked, "Wife, lover, girlfriend, mistress?" Holding up his hand to show there wasn't a marital tan line, he said, "Wife. Can't wear jewelry. Allergic to most metals. Besides, a buddy of mine was overpowered by a bunch of thugs and they stole his jewelry, including his wedding ring." As the elevator doors opened I said, "Just like life. Never a cop around when you need one." "He WAS a cop. The guys won't ever let him live it down. How about getting together Saturday afternoon?." "Can't. Rascal's Dad has me taking him to get his first jockstrap." I patted Ryan on the head like a little boy, knowing he hated that particular display of affection. "Corbett's, across the street, is a great place. Friendly sales staff. Knowledgeable." "That's where we're heading. I guess his dad knows the owner or something," I said, draping my arm over Ryan's shoulder. "A lot of people do," Wilson said. As we stopped at the duty officer's desk, Wilson said, "Hold up a minute." He wrote something on a note pad and said, "You can follow up on the situation by calling this number." Turning to the new duty officer, he said, "I'm gonna drive 'em around back to pick up their car and then I'm outta here. If my wife calls, uh ... I left ten minutes ago." "Just make sure I get to see you tomorrow," the young duty officer said. "Why's that?" Wilson asked, almost to the door. "I've always wanted to see your ass in a sling, and that's right where your wife's gonna put it." We retrieved the car, removed the wooden blocks from the pedals and I drove Ryan home. "Hey!" Ryan said as we pulled into the driveway, "I still haven't cummed yet." "Maybe Saturday, Rascal. I have to get home and call it a night." I went to bed thinking about our day with the cops and about the upcoming jockstrap outing with Ryan and Tyler. Somewhere in my dreams, it got all combined and I had a wet dream about a room full of naked boys and an equal number of cops in jockstraps. To be continued. Thanks for coming back for more. If you liked this story, please consider checking out other stories written by me (under pseudonyms) at www.a2zestful.com. Earlier, I mentioned the site was closing down. I have been convinced to keep it open a little longer. The stories on that site include military, voyeuristic, adult/youth, and tales of the paranormal, to mention a few. Thanks and keep in touch with me at zestful@myexcel.com