My complete line of stories can be found on Archerland, at http://archerland.net
The evening might have started out young, but it got old fast. I don't care what you see on ER, hospitals are no place to engage in a hot romance with the man of your dreams. For starters they smell bad. Then there's all those sick people.
David made me stay till the bitter end. At least there was some small consolation in the fact he stayed with me. I'm sure he could have found some excuse to make like a tree - a crime wave in the streets, his job, something. Instead he hung around looking grumpy until the doctor pronounced me perfectly fit and ushered me out with the admonition to stay away from dark places and crime scenes.
He still looked grumpy when we got back out to my truck. I tried to wrestle the keys from him but hey, the man has a gun and the long arm of the law behind him, so what chance did I have?
The sun was starting its long slide back into the Pacific when we stopped at his place first so he could change. I thought it would be fun to see where he lived. He didn't think it was a good idea to leave a vehicle of such value outside by itself so I was relegated to guard duty. Cops apparently don't make anywhere near what systems' analysts do. Which is why he lived in a dumpy house between Sunset and Santa Monica Boulevard. Like Bart Simpson said the world both sucks and blows.
It was obvious when he came back out that David didn't spend much of his meager pay on clothes. He wore a pair of baggy black pants with a dark green shirt tucked into them and cheap Docker knockoffs. He'd added an inexpensive pair of aviator sunglasses to the mix, no doubt because the sun was shining directly into the cab now. The sunglasses made him look even more like a cop, one of those bad ass cops you see on TV who roust good guys and bad guys alike.
Back at my place it took me ten minutes to change into an Izod shirt and stone washed Tommy Hilfigers. I knew I looked good and the glow on David's face made me feel good too. Before we headed out he pulled me over for a brief kiss that left my nerves singing, then he spun out toward Mulholland and went west.
"Manhattan Beach," he said. "I know a spot that has great fajitas."
We shared a mug of imported draft beer and a steak fajita platter than came to the table sizzling and jumping on the pan.
I could have been eating cardboard for all I tasted anything. We talked about my job and how I had gotten into computers just before the big boom in the eighties and nineties so I had ridden the wave to my current success. In turn he told me a bit of what it was like to be a cop with a secret.
I had always taken an active sex life for granted. I'd always played it safe, using protection and trying to exercise caution in who I let into my bed, but I never lacked for partners. But that way led discovery and David had eschewed casual sex for the rare bedroom romp on his yearly vacations. He told me about trips to San Francisco and New York where he was able to pretend he was something other than a closet bound cop who had to watch every word out of his mouth lest his brothers in blue find out his preferences and he became a real outcast.
"You have to be able to trust your partner," David said. "If he doesn't watch your back in this city, then you're as good as dead."
I kept watching David's face, wondering what was the secret appeal behind that pockmarked face and plain features. I sensed I was falling, and hard and it was a sensation I wasn't used to one bit. Why now? And why him?
"Something wrong?" David wiped a moustache of beer foam off his upper lip. "You're staring."
"No, everything's perfect," I said and kept staring. I so wanted to reach out and take his hand, but knew he wouldn't want that kind of public display. I felt saddened by the stupidity of it all. What did it really matter in the scheme of things if I held this man's hand or kissed his mouth?
I blinked and realized he'd been calling my name a few times now, trying to get my attention. I grinned weakly.
"Are you sure you didn't get a knock in the head? Remember what the doctor said, that could mean concussion. You're sure you're okay?"
"I do not have a concussion."
"Let's go back to my place and I'll show you."
That appealed to him - hopefully for the same reason it appealed to me and we finished up and left. We haggled a bit over who was paying but David won again. The gun, remember.
It was getting late enough that traffic was light on the drive back. Forty-five minutes later I peeled my fingers off the truck's arm rests and followed David on shaky legs up the path to my front door. I got us past the locks and alarms and into the living room where we both took seats on the leather couch facing the picture window.
I was a little tipsy since I'd had more of the pitcher of beer than David had. He'd restricted himself to maybe two glasses of beer. In my infinite wisdom I finished off the pitcher. When David put his hand on my knee I melted into him.
"You are going to stay the night, aren't you?"
"Yes." He nuzzled my throat and I purred. "Yes."
I shyly took his hand and led him into the bedroom. This time I undressed first, then helped him out of his clothes. The gun he wore everywhere - a police .38 special in a shoulder holster - was carefully draped over my armoire. The rest of our clothes ended in a heap on the floor. Again.
This time when he told me to turn over I stared up at him and whispered, "I want to see your face when you fuck me."
That same face was hard with lust when he dragged my legs open and pushed his massive hard on into my grasping hole. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met him stroke for stroke, rising to meet him and pulling him into me as far as I could. I fucked his mouth with my tongue even as he ploughed me with his tool.
In the end I got my wish. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. David lay half on top of me, his breathing finally returning to normal. He'd finally stopped being so silent and let me know in no uncertain terms what I did to him and how.
Now he spread kisses all up and down my face and chest. Pausing to suck one of my nipples into his supple mouth he moved on to my chin. Finally he lay his head down on my shoulder and fell asleep. I lay awake a while longer, just staring down at his sleeping face, which in repose seemed softer and younger than the thirty-three he had told me he was. I barely noticed the acne scars that marred his features.
When I moved closer to him, his arms tightened around me reflexively. I fell asleep like that. And didn't wake up until my alarm buzzed me out of dreamland.
I groaned when I felt his hard cock pressed between my butt crack. He moved down until his hot mouth was pressed onto the round globe of my ass.
"Can you take more?" He used his big hands to pull apart the cheeks of my ass and pressed his talented mouth against my hole.
I came off the bed with a shout. "Oh fuck, David, yes. Yesss."
He used his tongue like a miniature cock, shoving it into my hole, opening me up, probing and digging. I groaned and shoved my ass into his face.
Then I felt his bulging cock head pressed into my open hole. He slammed into me and rode me hard and fast and furious. His hands were on my hips and he held me down while he fucked me savagely. He offered me no finesse this morning. In turn I cried out for him to fuck me harder. Faster.
We slammed into an earth shattering climax together and fell back on the bed.
"Jesus," he muttered. "I don't know how much more of this I can handle."
"Yeah, you were pretty incredible, too."
He nuzzled my throat then slapped my still tingling butt.
"Shower time. We both have jobs to get to."
We walked out of the house forty minutes later to find my Escalade covered bumper to bumper with blood red spray paint screaming 'Faggot' and 'Cop fucker' and other things I couldn't read for the tears of rage that filled my eyes.
While I stormed and cried David called his brethren in arms and the circus came to town.
[More to come]
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