Date: Sat, 1 Jul 2023 12:41:30 -0400
From: Andrew <andrewcthune@gmail.com>
Subject: The Hanky Code (Blue)

The Hanky Code (BLUE)
By Hunter Dean

	"Slip, please," the coatroom attendant asked as I patted down my
pockets. Thanks to the gin, my memory was slightly cloudy, and I couldn't
remember exactly where I'd tucked it away.

"Aha!" I exclaimed, handing the crumpled piece of paper to the
attendant. He raised a brow as he unfolded the paper and squinted at the
now-faded numbers. His emerald green eye looked at me and then back to the
slip. "Are you the guy who was here earlier?" I asked as he walked away
from the counter and sifted through the racks of coats and attendees'
belongings.

	"Yes, Sir. Just one moment, and I will retrieve your jacket," he
said from the back of the coatroom.

Could have sworn the guy early had been taller, but my memory couldn't be
trusted at the moment. I drummed my fingers along the wooden counter and
watched the attendees walk in and out of the hotel, the ones leaving more
intoxicated than those arriving at the hotel. The party was only beginning
for some, while others, like myself, were calling it a night. "Here you
go," said the attendant, handing the jacket to me. I squinted and leaned
toward his name tag to see the nearly microscopic lettering.

	"Thank you, Jeffrey," I said as I slipped the jacket over my broad
shoulders.

	"Oh, my name's not Jeffrey," He said with a mischievous
grin. Something in the way he smiled at me--stared at me--made me think he
knew something that I didn't. His gaze held longer than normal and started
to make me feel nervous. It made me feel as if I were missing something,
but before I could ask not-Jeffrey why he stared, he walked into the long
rows of coats, and another man reappeared from the opposite direction. Now
this attendant I recognized.

"Hey, where did the other guy go?" I asked, slurring slightly. The
attendant's brows knitted together.

"I'm the only one here tonight, Sir. Is there a problem?" the attendant
asked. I shook my head. The gin must have been a lot stronger than I'd
thought. "Do you need me to call you a cab, Sir?" the man asked, noticing
how I wobbled slightly as I stood in the window.

I shook my head once more as I patted down my coat. "I'm fine," I said
before I walked towards the exit, still searching for my keys. "Where the
fuck--?" I muttered as I searched all my jacket pockets and finally found
them within one of the many inner pockets of my jacket wrapped in a swatch
of dark blue fabric. It was soft fabric and appeared expensive, with
delicate, swirling designs that seemed to radiate outward from the
center. Interlocking chains that spiraled down into themselves. I didn't
remember the cloth in my pocket before the party or even owning a
handkerchief.

"Is this anyone's . . . handkerchief?" I asked, waving the hankie in the
air as If I were surrendering a battle. "Anyone's?" I called out again, but
nobody claimed it. "Going once, going twice . . . and it's mine," I said as
I tucked the hankie into the front pocket of my jacket. It wasn't my taste,
but it was a lovely accessory if I attended another company event. I looked
into the large mirror that occupied the entry wall and winked at my
reflection. It wasn't originally the look I'd been going for, but it did
add a dash of suaveness.

	Walking through the hotel's wide entry hall, I dodged my boss while
eyeing a few potential prospects I might bring home. Kim from finance was a
bitch, but she was fun to be around if you got a few drinks in her. But she
seemed to be animatedly talking to a man, whom I assumed was her husband,
so she was a pass. Bethany from the sales team followed me all night,
dropping hints of being ready and eager, but she was a stage five clinger,
and I was not that desperate. So as I crossed the threshold and walked down
the entry's stairs, I accepted that tonight would be another solo jerk off
and binging the rest of this season of Westworld. I shrugged at the
thought. I hoped the evening would have been better, but it could have been
much worse. I snagged one final drink off a waiter's tray, downed it, and
showed the valet my ticket.

The valet had just vanished into the parking lot when I felt the leering
eyes of my boss come up from behind. I looked over my shoulder and saw his
eyes ogling my lower half. I made a pointed cough, which ended his
eye-fucking. I prayed for the valet to pull around faster, but he was not
fast enough to avert an extremely uncomfortable drunken conversation with
George.

Over the years, George dropped several hints about drinks at his place or
taking me to dinner on the company dime. I lost count of the times he
`accidentally' brushed against my ass or `fell' into me in the elevator.

"Danny boy! How's it going?" He clapped my shoulder. "I didn't know you
were here, leaving so early?"

"Early morning tomorrow, don't wanna be too hungover at work," I answered,
watching my car turn down the hotel's long driveway. "You have a good
evening Mr. Freeman." I tried to step away but was pulled into an overly
friendly hug, one where my boss's hands grazed down my back and cupped my
pert buttocks. Something hard pressed against my thigh as he leaned into my
ear. I lied to myself and said it must have been his phone, even though I
knew better.

"You sure you don't want to come over for a drink? I have a fresh bottle of
whisss--" he ground his `phone' into my thigh harder.

	"Have a good night, Mr. Freeman," I said, cutting him off and
running toward my car. I tossed the valet a wad of cash, slid into the
driver's seat, and put the car in drive. In my rearview mirror, I watched
my boss pout momentarily before readjusting his crotch as he watched my car
drive away.

"Fucking faggot," I grunted in disgust. It wasn't the first time he'd
openly groped me, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Never at work,
but every Christmas, Fourth of July, and Halloween party when he was all
liquored up, he bravely made his advances and offered to get me into bed. I
had made it abundantly clear that I was straight, but that didn't stop his
eyes or hands every major holiday.

	Tucking the failure of a night into the back of my mind, I shifted
gears and pressed harder on the throttle. I needed to be home and out of
this fucking monkey suit. I was thankful for the long weekend and the free
dinner, but I just wanted to be on my couch.

I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the annoyance of the evening, or my
wish to be home, but I hadn't noticed when my car accelerated past sixty,
then seventy, and when my car hit just a hair over ninety, blue lights
flashed in my rearview mirror.

"Fuckin shit!" My heart raced as I popped a mint into my mouth, chewed
vigorously on the hard coating, and pulled over onto the shoulder of the
back road. Mint rolled across my tongue and over my mouth. I swallowed the
remains and crunched hard on a second one, hoping the spearmint would
overpower the smell of alcohol on my breath. I wasn't sure where I was
regarding the legal limit, but I knew I had enough alcohol in my system to
prompt a test. I turned off my car and watched an oversized silhouette of
the officer step from his car and walk towards me. I swallowed my nerves as
he stood at the driver's side window and motioned for me to lower it. The
entire vehicle shifted to one side as he leaned into it.

	"Do you know how fast you were going, boy?" he asked, his southern
drawl heavily coating his consonants and vowels. He rubbed his thick jaw
and stereotypical handlebar mustache as he searched my face and the
backseat of my car.

	"I'm sorry, officer, I was paying attention to the road. You know
how you can lose track of your speed when you're alone out here," I said,
trying to charm my way out of a ticket. He stood up and looked to the left
and the right. Not a single car was coming or going in either
direction. The officer lifted his arms and stretched; his broad chest and
barrel gut strained the buttons of his uniform, threatening to burst, even
though the top buttons were undone. The sleeves were taut against his beefy
arms and along his shoulders. A dense forest of dark curly hair reached and
grabbed at the edges of his unbuttoned shirt. He wasn't just big. He was a
goddamn gorilla. His size put his clothes' seams to the test, and looked
ready to pop if he made one wrong move. The officer looked towards his
watch, placed his oversized hand back on the windowsill, and looked back at
me.

	"That wasn't my question. I asked, did you know how fast you were
going?" His deep voice dropped several octaves lower, nearly to a
threatening level.

	"No, Sir," I said softly as I clutched my steering wheel tightly,
partially in anger but mostly fear.  "Where you come from, Boy? Some
fancy-pants party?" he asked as his hand snatched the blue handkerchief
from my front pocket. He examined the fabric.

"Yes, Sir. It... it was a company party," I stuttered. I waited for a
response, but he said nothing. The officer unfolded the fabric and stared
at the design, swaying slightly as his head gently moved in a circle. His
eyes were unblinking, and his body stilled as if he had been put into a
trance, captivated by the swirling decorations of the handkerchief.

"Officer?" I asked. "Sir?" I asked, reaching my hand out through the
window. I took hold of his forearm and gave it a soft jostle. "Officer? Are
you okay?"

	He snapped back into reality and scowled at me, acting as if the
last few moments of silence hadn't happened. He folded the handkerchief,
and pushed it back into my front pocket. He took a few sniffs of the air
around me and stepped from my vehicle.

	"You have anything to drink today?" he asked as he adjusted his
crotch. My eyes followed his hand and saw a mound growing within his
skintight pants. His hand moved across his lap, growing down one of his
pant legs, unrestrained by any underwear--bile form in the back of my
throat.

What the fuck was happening?

	"No," I lied. I prayed that the mint would work, that he was
following standard procedure, but something told me he wasn't asking for
the hell of it. The officer leaned his enormous head into my car and
sniffed the air from my lips. I held my breath as the scents of aftershave
and cigars filled my vehicle.

He sniffed again, moved his nose towards my mouth, and growled, "Smells
like gin. Step out of the car." The officer's hot breath washed over my
face. I wished I had gone home with Bethany or to my boss's for a drink. At
least I knew I could hold myself against the two of them but not this beast
of a man.

	"Officer, I had one drink at the party. I'm not drunk. I'm--"

	"Step. Out. Of. The. Car. Boy," he said again, over-enunciating
every word as he pulled himself from my window and stepped back. I
swallowed my words and fear as I exited my vehicle. Quicker than I could
blink, he pulled me toward the front of my car and shoved my body onto the
hood. The engine's heat warmed my body as the office pressed me into the
metal surface. He slapped my legs, and I spread them apart.

"I see guys like you all the time," he said as he patted down the sides of
my torso. His movements were rough and hurried along my upper body as if he
were not searching for anything. He stopped at my waist and jumped to my
legs, patting the inside and outside as he continued to speak. "Big
businessmen. Guys who think they got everything. Men whose lives are
meaningless with all their money, and they end up driving recklessly up and
down these streets at night . . ." The officer paused as he leaned his
massive body onto mine, weighing down the vehicle and crushing me in the
process. His mustache tickled my ear as his thin lips pressed into my ear
and whispered, " . . . just so they can get caught by men like me so they
can live out their nasty little fantasies." The officer pressed his hips
into my ass, and I felt the full girth of his hard cock.

	"What the fuck!" I shouted as I fought his heavy frame and the
massive erection he massaged into my backside.

	"Oh, you like to pretend? You want me to stop? You want the big bad
police officer to let you go?" he asked. His tone was mocking and demeaning
as he ground his cock into my trouser-covered ass. I could feel the heat
radiating from his groin as he held my arms in place on my vehicle. His
heavy form didn't budge as I tried to push him off. "I don't think with an
ass like this. You'd have any trouble getting men to pull you over and pat
you down." My heart raced, my breathing was heavy, and my cock was
. . . hard?

	"Please, Officer, just let me go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! This is
all a huge misunderstanding. I'm not--"

"Misunderstanding, huh?" he sneered. He placed his hand between my thighs
and grabbed at my throbbing member. He groped at my cock, bringing it fully
erect. The tip oozed precum into my pants and continued as he manhandled
me. I bit down on my inner cheek to stop the moan from escaping my mouth,
but it grew too powerful as he rubbed his fingers along my shaft.

"Ughhh," I moaned. My body arched into his muscular form, thrusting my ass
into his waiting erection. He laughed at me and humped back, grinding his
cock into my ass.

	"Fuck, the boys at the station are going to love getting a piece of
this ass." The officer's hands went from my cock and squeezed both
cheeks. I moaned again. "So round and juicy. Fuck. Hotter than my wife's
flabby ass." His hands dug into the sides of my cheeks, massaging the deep
layers of muscle and tissue. My eyes fluttered, and my cock pulsed.

I never wanted someone to touch my ass like this, and now it was all I
could wish to or think about. Just thinking of the hundreds of times my
boss touched my ass or slapped my cheeks when he would get too drunk made
my cock throb even harder. I was so lost in my memories that I didn't
notice when the officer took hold of my pants and ripped it and my
underwear down the middle, fully exposing my ass. The officer got to his
knees and whistled a sound of approval as he lightly slapped the underside
of one of my cheeks, appreciating the way it bounced. "Bad boy, indeed," he
said as he kissed the side of one of my cheeks while his fingers trailed
against one the other. "Love the tattoo."

	"Tattoo?" I asked. "I don't have a--" I stopped as a memory grew in
my consciousness. A remembrance of me, ass-up on a tattoo artist's chair as
he inked my plump cheeks, and how he fucked me so hard afterward he threw
in a second tattoo for free. Large bold letters were etched into my skin
that day so anyone who saw my ass would know: "Bad Boy" and "Officer's
Bitch."

The sound of the officer unzipping his pants meshed with my uncontrolled
moaning.

	"Does this bad boy want to take this massive cop's cock?" he
slapped his dick against my ass, decorating my tattoos with splatters of
precum. I looked over my shoulder, and my mouth filled with saliva.

"Fuck me," I moaned as I stared at the thick monster the officer held in
his hands. It was the same size all the way down--thick like a beer
can. His mushroom head dripped a steady stream of precum. An itch appeared
deep within my asshole, one that I knew he could scratch with his massive
cock. He pulled my cheeks apart, spit at my hole, and rubbed his fingers
along my crack. Shivers ran up and down my spine as he played with my hole,
sliding his fingers in and out of my body.

	"Already loosened too. Bet you were dying waiting for a cop to pull
you over to fuck this ass of yours, weren't you?"

My toes curled with anticipation. I needed him to fuck me.

	"Oh, Officer, I've been a bad boy. I need you to punish me." I
widened my stance and pushed out my ass to meet his fingers as he added
more to stretch me further. I reached around and felt his cock; my hand
slid up and down the shaft, bathing it in his precum. I searched further,
feeling his low hangers bounce as he fingered my hole. He allowed me
several strokes of his cock before he took out his handcuffs.

"Don't want you getting too frisky." He laughed as he cuffed them behind my
back and held me firmly against the hood of my car. "Ughhh, Officer!" I
cried, loving the feeling of forced submission and the metal against my
wrists.

	"That's right. You're a bad boy. And I'm here to punish you. You're
just made to get fucked, aren't you?" His fingers wormed around in my hole,
moving without resistance. "This pussy is just opening up for me," the
officer growled. His fingers pistoned faster, summoning more memories.

	Another image appeared in my memory. One of me, earlier in the
evening, shoving my fingers into my hole, lubing and widening my hole for a
hopeful late-night fuck. While others ate and drank, I hid in a stall with
my legs in the air and hoped for a hard fucking to come. The memories of me
flirting with women were slowly erased and replaced with hours spent
knuckle-deep in my pussy, wishing for an officer to pull me over tonight.

	"Yes, Officer! I want it so bad! Please fuck me like a bad
boy. Treat me like a whore from the streets," I begged as his fingers dug
deeper into my hole, readying me for his cock. His fingers slipped from my
gaping hole and licked them clean, moaning at the taste. An emptiness set
in, a feeling of yearning to be filled. I looked back over my shoulder at
the massive cock that he played with and needed it. I was nothing without
it. I needed this officer's cock in me! "Stick it in! Please, I need it!
Please use me! Fuck me! Officer, fuck me hard like I deserve it." He
responded to my pleas with a deep chuckle. He lined his cock up with my
hole, wiping his head around my gape. I clenched my hole, winking at the
officer before it opened.

"Fucking whore," he said, plunging his cock into my body.

	It was like fireworks going off in my head--loud, pleasurable,
excruciating fireworks. With every inch, my body opened up to the pleasure
and the submission. His cock sank deep into my hole without pausing. My
head spun from the thickness of his cock and the unending length of his
shaft. I thought I would feel it coming out my mouth before I felt my ass
pressed against his lap. I lost all control. My cock spasmed beneath my
body, shooting tight ropes of cum across the hood of my car as he pushed me
back and forth to meet his thrusts.

	"God, this ass is so tight!" The police officer groaned before he
spanked one of my sizable cheeks. "This is prime pussy!" He said as he
slammed his lap into my ass. If it was fireworks before, it was explosions
now when I felt his entire cock fill my cavity. My eyes rolled to the back
of my head as my body accepted every inch of his cock. "Better hold onto
something," he teased as his hips slowly pulled his shaft out and then
pushed it back into my hole. My body and car rocked back and forth with
fucking, never losing the tempo.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth, his cock moved as he widened my pussy and made me submit to
his authority over my body. His heavy balls slapped against my much smaller
pair, teasing them with their size and the pain that came every time they
hit against one another. I worried that a car would see us on the side of
the street. A slut hungry for an officer's dick, but the thought of getting
caught only enhanced the pleasure. Knowing that my secret could get out
made my head spin.

I wanted the cop to fuck me harder and longer.

His thrusts became aggressive as he fucked me on top of my vehicle, on the
roadside, with the lights of his car illuminating our sexual depravity. His
cock throbbed within me. I knew he would soon flood my asshole with his
load. I clenched my muscles around his cock and held tightly, but he pulled
back, exiting completely from my hole. I gaped, and his precum leaked,
draining along my crack. I screamed for him to cum in me, to fill me again,
until he bred me like a proper whore. He laughed, took hold of my hips, and
flipped me around as if I weighed nothing.

"I like to look my bad boys in the face when I cum in their pussies," he
sneered as he lifted my legs into the air, ripping my trousers more, and
pushed his cock back into my hole. I gasped at the new pleasure centers
that he pressed as he fucked me on my back. I looked towards my lap and saw
that my cock had become stiff again and bounced untouched between us. I
groaned in humiliation. I loved it so much, and I only wanted more. I
stared at his manly face, his strong jaw, and heavy brow as he grunted and
groaned. Rings of sweat grew around his collar, and his chest hair grew
matted with sweat. I wanted to press my face into his chest. I wanted to
smell the deep rich scents buried within the forest of hair covering his
body.

But I'm not gay, I told myself. I didn't lust after cops. I didn't
finger-bang myself. I didn't want my boss to bend me over his desk after
work and fuck me until I couldn't walk straight. I tried to focus on the
multiple glaring problems with my situation, but my mind urged me to enjoy,
my cock begged for attention, and my hole demanded punishment. With each
thrust of his cock, I felt more of my common sense being buried underneath
the mountains of lust I felt for this man, this cock, this officer.

"Ugh!" I cried, high-pitched and sensual. "Oh! Oh! OHHH!" I moaned, feeling
my cock ooze another load into the front pouch of my underwear. I squeezed
my hands tightly as my hole grasped the officer's cock and squeezed,
wanting his load more than air itself.

"Here it comes, boy!" he shouted as a torrential flood of cum was fucked
into my ass. I felt his thick ropes of cum scatter within my hole as my
cock finished spewing its own load. His orgasm did not stop his fucking or
his need to bury the load deep within my body. His cock remained thick and
fuckable for several minutes after I felt the last rope of cum shoot into
my body. And when his still-hard cock fell from my gaping hole, cum gushed
and splattered onto the ground. I clenched my hole but could not stop the
load as it dripped onto the street.

The officer zipped his pants and cracked his back, I thought he would let
me go as most of the officers who fuck me do, but I was proven wrong when
he lifted me over his shoulder and threw me into the back of the police
car. Before he shut the door, I felt him push something long and
cylindrical into my hole. I adjusted my position and watched as he fucked
my used hole with his twelve-inch-long nightstick. He wedged it deep into
me until only the handle hung free. I squirmed, and it pressed against my
prostate, causing my cock to become erect again. It wasn't an officer's
cock, but it did the trick.

"Wanna make sure all that cum doesn't leak out of that pussy before I get
you back to the station. Wouldn't want it to go to waste before my guys get
a taste." He slammed the door shut, settled into the front seat, and turned
off the lights and sirens before he drifted back onto the road. I watched
as we left my car abandoned there. I wanted to tell him to stop, to pull
over and let me out. That this wasn't the real me. I wasn't gay for
cops. But that feeling of the nightstick as it rubbed against my prostate
was too fulfilling to ignore. So I laid in the back and jostled the
nightstick back and forth as my cock leaked over my ruined suit, and I
fantasized about what the cops would do to me when we got back to the
station.

Epilogue



	The Trickster settled between realms, working on his latest
creation. His long fingers trailed across a loom as threads of every
imaginable color intertwined. He maniacally laughed as his creation grew
longer. The images and designs that he wove into the fabric were frantic,
obscene, and drastic. He had created hundreds of yards of material, and
there was no end in sight as he worked at his loom.

"Beautiful. So very beautiful," the Trickster gasped as he ran a sharpened
fingernail along the edge of the fabric, cutting it from the loom. The
bright colors shifted, unsure of what color to become. The Trickster was
never sure what handkerchief he would create, as the threads had their own
goals. He was just the Trickster, the one who planted them throughout the
world so chaos could reign. The images in the fabric changed with the
light, not ready to settle. The Trickster giggled as his mind filled with
the trouble he would cause with such an item. He pushed himself away from
the loom of fate and paced around his dark studio. "But where do I even
start?" He asked himself as he waved his hand and disappeared from his
space between worlds, ready to wreak some havoc.



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