Sven Brovskan stopped lesbians in their tracks. Yes, he was THAT good looking. Sven was of that Nordic heritage of the blonde haired, blue eye "god" category. 6'4", 220 pounds of muscle, smooth body that looked like he spent hours in the gym each day. Well, Sven did. His 8-pack abs rippled down into his crotch which housed an 8.5-inch cut fuck stick. Sven wasn't from Norway. He was from Kansas, now living in my state, and working as a policeman. Sven was also a former Marine. I guessed his age around 45 even though a female friend of mine insisted he couldn't be a day over 30; but I knew better. I had it on good authority from another straight friend that Sven frequented the "Cop Shop" which I knew had to be a straight bar. No self-respecting gay man, hell even a degraded gay man would not name a bar the Cop Shop, and I'd only met one gay man who did. Except he didn't know he was gay at the time. That married boy told me he fantasized about Sven, watching him shower in the precinct locker room. Now, I'll be honest. If it has a dick and isn't a woman, I'm turned on by it. But Sven wasn't my type. My married boy tried to take me to the Cop Shop, but I couldn't stomach the idea of stepping inside, so we sat in my truck, and the married boy pointed Sven out to me. Sven still sported his Marine buzz cut, was built like the non-existent brick shit house, and the married boy told me Sven usually took a bar fly home if he wanted, which was pretty much any and every night. I could tell from tonight's choice of bar flies that Sven was into trashy women. The vagina clinging to his big guns made a whore look like a British Queen. Sven wasn't my type at all. I'm not really into blondes, smooth men or men so straight that if they were a woman, another lesbian wouldn't be interested. "No," I told my married boy. "Not interested." "Can't take him?" MB mouthed off. I smacked his nuts so hard, he curled into a fetal position on the truck floor. "Mouth off like that again and I'll send you home to your wife, shaved head to toe, boy." I didn't bark it out or yell. I just said it with a steady voice that let him know it'd happen and he didn't have any choice. I backed my truck away from Nordic thing and left.
Now, several of my friends were getting wind of Sven. Although none of them would set foot in the Cop Shop, I heard at least 4 gaymobiles were spotted there Friday night. I also heard the vagina on his right, muscled arm made a crack whore look like a grand dame. One of my friends even said he'd consider getting fucked by Sven. "You must be kidding! Have some dignity!" So, Saturday morning after hearing all this stuff, I was a little pissed when the phone rang at 9 a.m. I let the machine get it. On Saturday mornings, anything before noon is way too early. I heard a very unfamiliar voice asking if I was the guy in the truck who had been scoping him out Tuesday night, and if I was, give him a call. He even left a number, which I recognized by the prefix to be a local number, not an untraceable cell phone. Had he mentally noted my license plate and run it? And why the hell would he call me anyway? I grabbed my phone and decided to end this. He picked up on the first ring. "Hello, you called back. I'm Sven." "Must have caller I.D." I thought. "Yeah, I've been told. Yes, I was scoping you out' to use your terms, but I'm not interested," I said. "Hey, neither am I, faggot," he sneared. "Then why did you call, officer?" I wasn't sure why there was silence. Maybe he realized that he DID call, or maybe he was taken off guard with me knowing he was an officer. "Um, cause since Tuesday night, I've been propositioned by 5 fags, and since you were the first one I spotted, I figured you started this," he tried to sound macho, like that really was the reason he called. "Officer, I don't care why you called. I also don't control who frequents parking lots. Actually, I think police officers take care of that," I retorted. More silence. I was bored with this. "Anything else, officer?" "Why were you looking at me?" Wow, he did find a legitimate question. "A friend wanted me to look at you and give my assessment." A small pause. "And?" Oh, great, he wants his fucking straight ego fed by a gay man. "Not interested." It was 2 words, but I tired to say them in a way that showed not only was I not interested, I also didn't care. "Everyone's interested in me, buddy," he smirked. "You just don't want to admit it." Oh, brother! Straight man pick up lines! "Listen, Sven, I'm not those loose pussies you take to yer house and pound a few seconds, then throw out on the porch. I'm not interested." "HEY! I do virgins!" "So do I, except, mine are actual virgins, buddy'," he growled. There's only one thing worse than a dumb, ex-military policeman, and that's a redneck. I was about 2 minutes away from wishing for a redneck. "Ever do 3 women at once?" he bragged. This guy was unbelievable. He was playing a game of sexual one-upsmanship with the man who has the worlds best "first timer" story. It's so good, I've actually won free meals and other stuff from men who think they can top me...and the story. "No, Sven, ya got me there. I've NEVER done 3 women at once," I conceded. "I'm gay, remember? I've done 6 men at once." "Yeah, right," he said, obviously not believing me. "I have 2 feet," I replied. "Shit," I heard a whispered compliment as he figured out the configuration. "Are you done with the testosterone?" I sighed. "But you're interested in me," he said, fishing for a compliment. "No. Don't get me wrong, you have a nice body and yer nice to look at, but yer not my type, starting with you have no standards for sexual partners and...OH, YEAH, yer straight." "You're interested," he stated. I hung up. And I thought diamonds were dense. I looked down at the foot of the bed to the boy sleeping there. I was in a mood last night. Now, I'm not a gay man's stereotypical dream. I'm the shade of white that is untanned, shorter than men like at 5'9", with a slight carbo gut, and a face that's somewhere between cute and handsome. I'm 37, and don't care. I cruised the college campus. Men who know me know I must have been in a mood to do that. I'm not really into college men, either. I don't really get into boys who run at the sight of a leather jock strap. I rarely find a college boy that isn't skiddish, and I wasn't expecting to find one last night. I was in a mood and thought I'd just scope out the eye candy. I spotted a few soccer players, a tall basketball player, a really cute baseball player and a whole group of wrestlers. Then I spotted some non-athletes. Skinny guys, fat guys, lanky, stout, some attractive, some not. I wasn't planning to pick any up, so I kept driving. Then I spotted Marcus. Football, defensive line. Yes, I am psychic. Marcus had dark brown hair, a beefy build at about 6-foot tall, a strikingly handsome face, and clothes that were just a bit too small for him, but showed off his build. He was sitting on the steps outside his dorm, in T-shirt and shorts, looking like he was pouting. I pulled over to offer a sympathetic ear. "Anything wrong, college man?" Marcus looked up at me and said, "My girlfriend stood me up. I haven't had sex for a whole month and I'm horny." He stuck his crotch out and showed his boner to prove his point. "I don't think I can help you with that unless yer willin' to have sex with a man," I said, ready to press on the gas pedal. "Yer shittin' me," he started laughing. "Nope, and I won't shit on you either. I'm not into that." The tone in my voice told him I was serious and he stopped laughing. He looked around and up at the few windows that could see the steps. He got in the truck. I was on the money about his sports activities, and he was also a wrestler. He was beefy and had a hot, hairy chest, and hairy ass, legs, arms, the works. His hair wasn't coarse and rough; it was like fur. On the trip back to my house, he talked about his girlfriend, and her holding out on him, his experimenting with guys in high school (circle jerks...ooooo, what an experiment). I'm not stupid. He's a jock. A college jock. He's trying to push himself off on me as having a virgin ass. I turn off the truck and look him right in the eye. "Marcus, I'm not a girl. I could not care less if yer ass is virgin or fucked a thousand times. Last chance to back out, boy." "I've been fucked once," he swallowed his statement. I've been accused by some men of being too upfront with my comments about sex and what I want. But I've found it avoids confusion when I'm trying to get up the ass of another top man. Marcus followed me into my house. It's a rather modest looking house from the outside. But I don't need an attractive house, outside. Inside, it's all decorated by me. "Do you have a dungeon?" Marcus asked me as he stepped in the front door. I ignored the question, for the moment. "Strip," I commanded. On the trip here, Marcus talked about his girlfriend, and I talked about some of what we'd be doing. Once naked, I said, "Follow me", and like an obedient puppy, Marcus did. Marcus has a distinctive drawl in his deep, bass voice. I'm a sucker for a hairy man with a deep voice. So when I dropped to my knees and wrapped my lips around Marcus' 5-inch pecker, I could hear the surprise on his face. I felt furry thighs on each side of my face as I deep throated the football cock. Obviously, Marcus' girlfriend wasn't scared of his size. Make no mistake, I'm not a size queen. Big or small, I'll suck them all. Just 2 requirements: they're clean and they're clean. When I sensed Marcus was close, I pulled off, and stepped behind him, gently but obviously pushing him to his knees. My crotch and cock were right behind his head, and in front of him, the naked man could see his reflection in a large mirror. "How many cocks have you sucked, Marcus?" I asked. "None, sir," he said, looking in the mirror to see me pulling my 6.5 cut thick throbber from my jeans. I looked down. "You've been fucked once, but never sucked cock?" "Right, sir. My cousin Aldo got drunk in high school and we were messin' around in the barn. He said he'd suck me off if I'd let him fuck me. I was drunk, too, so I didn't really think about it, but that a blow job was supposed to feel good." "And?" "And that's why I've only been fucked once. Hurt like hell. All he did was spit on his dick, then jammed it in. I walked a little odd for a couple of days. But Aldo did blow me good." Precum ran down his cheek where my leaking prick rested against his head. He licked his lips, accidentally tasting my man nectar. He swished it around in his mouth like wine. "Oh, FUCK, that's awesome!" and he turned his head to take my prick in his mouth. I put a palm on his forehead and held his jock mouth at bay but let his tongue snake toward my stiff pisser. "Please, sir, let me suck it," he begged. I chuckled to myself. Here was a big, beefy college football jock who could easily force that hand off his head, but was instead beggin' for his first cock down his throat. "You asked about a dungeon earlier, boy?" I reminded him. "Yes, sir," he said, his tongue still shooting out, trying to get another sampling of dick juice. "Ever been tied up, boy?" I asked. "No, sir, but if you let me suck yer cock, you can tie me up." "And, boy?" "And anything else you want, sir. Please let me have more, please?" He looked like a begging puppy, a very macho, manly puppy, but a puppy. "Good dog," I said, removing my hand from his forehead. I don't think he heard it as he gobbled down my pecker. "No teeth," I said, reaching on top of the chest of drawers for a collar, which I slipped around his neck as he sucked me. He offered no resistance, but would bob his head up and down on my dick to get some more precum out, then come up to the top and suckle precum from my cock. This boy must know something about wine because he's treating my cock like there's a cork in it and his mouth's suction is the corkscrew. By the time Marcus was on the bed, I'd slipped leather restraints around his wrists and ankles. I had Marcus on all 4s and his wrists padlocked to my iron frame bed before I pulled my cock from his hoover-mouth. "Welcome to my dungeon, Marcus," I grinned. I moved to his backside, where I looked at his hot, hairy ass, to mounds covered by soft fur which thickened as it grew toward this college boy's pucker. "So yer fuckin' cousin gave you a rough fuck, huh?" "Yes, sir," he purred as I petted that furry ass, grazing my fingers over his pucker. I spread the furry butt cheeks and saw what I liked. The boy must have washed after a game. His hole was clean and flexing, as if begging to be filled. I leaned in and lapped the tip of my tongue over his college shitter. "Oh, fuck!" "Don't cum, boy," I commanded. "You do that again, and I won't have a choice, sir. Oh fuck, that was intense." I reached into my nightstand for my leather straps. Marcus' hairy nuts hung right before me, and they were drawn up into the stud, so I popped them down and tied them back from his body; that would keep his cum somewhat under control, and at least long enough for me to have my fun. I lapped at his hole against, and felt his hips thrust obscenely in the air, as if his dick was begging for the friction of another hole. Marcus alternated between moans and purrs as I ate his hairy ass, diving my tongue deep in his steamy slit as a skilled hand milked his college cock. After a few minutes, Marcus was pushing his ass back on my face and I inserted the middle right finger in his hole, lubed with my spit. I continued to drool on the digit, substituting the finger for my tongue and leaning back to watch this macho boy fuck himself on my finger. I don't think he noticed when I added a second. I pulled the fingers out to their tips and Marcus backed up until his restraints were maxed out for distance and my fingers were lightly grazing his boy hole. "Please, sir, put that finger back in," he whined. "That was 2 fingers, boy." "Put them back in, please. Oh, God, I need those in my ass. I feel empty. Please." I heard near sobbing. I'd been lubing my cock during the finger fuck, and so when I mounted the boy, it slipped in as I reached under the boy's chest and pinched each tit with my hands. The mirror on the head board let me see his eyes pop from his head. "OH "FUCK!" I shoved all the way in and let it rest there while he physically and mentally adjusted. His nipples were rock hard and after a bit, I felt his ass push back on my cock, trying to get more cock deeper. I rode Marcus for at least 15 minutes, listening to him beg for more, harder, deeper and rougher. When I was ready to cum, I pulled out and flipped Marcus on his back. I hosed his beefy, hairy bod down, foreheard to crotch. He flicked his tongue out to catch a ropey strand as it flew across his face, like the lash of a semen whip. I reached for a butt plug and shoved it up the boy's hole, then started massaging the cum into his hair and skin as I let him suckle the juices from my dick. His own pecker stood rock hard and I let it remain that way. "More, please, sir," he sighed. "Time for bed, boy. You can curl up on the end of the bed and suck my feet during the night." "Thank you, sir." So that was the scene as I woke up the next morning to verbally spar with Officer Sven. I'd hung up about 45 minutes earlier when the door bell rang. Guess who was there?
Now, that's obviously to be continued. As always, I appreciate comments and feedback. I'm always looking for boys. Master Terra D -- masterterradil@yahoo.com