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JURY DUTYJURY DUTYIt came lurking among bills, pre-approved credit card applications with a”low, low” interest rate that would quadruple after six months andmountains of junk mail asking for contributions to help save theforests. It was that most dreaded demon of democracy: the summons to juryduty.For the benefit of those who qualify but have never gotten one, be assuredthat somewhere out in the vast bureaucratic sea is a pink and white sharkwith your name etched on its perforated edged, razor sharp teeth. Perhapsit’s headed toward you at this very moment: circling” watching” waiting forthe most inconvenient time to strike.There are ways to repel these creatures, though hitting them on the nosewhen they venture too close isn’t one of them. They involve an indictment,giving up your citizenship or having a job crucial to the public’s wellbeing. Only in rare cases will being related to someone of importance orbeing married to a cop get you out of service.A note of warning; never try to mix and match. A guy tried getting himselfarrested by fucking his cousin, a CHP Officer, on the counter of theStarbucks where he worked part time on Wednesday and Friday. The judge, astaunch Mormon, ruled that providing a caffeine rush to the masses didn’tcount as crucial to the public’s well being. The case was dismissed and hewas chosen to serve on a jury. To this day, he breaks out in a sweat eachtime someone says: “If the glove don’t fit you must acquit.”As a good citizen with no prior arrests, Tom dutifully filled out the lowerhalf, detached it at the dotted line and sent it back with a ten dollarbill stapled over his name. The bill must have fallen off because within amonth he was being ordered to appear at an address on Temple Street at theungodly hour of 7:45.Tuesday morning he tied the order to a piece of top round steak and threwit into his supervisor’s cage. To say he was not pleased would go down inrecord books as the premiere understatement of the second quarter endingJune 30th.”Cheer up,” he said holding him at bay with an executive swivelchair. “It’ll probably be some jerk who ran a red light while talking tohis shrink on a cellular phone. By the end of the day I’ll be back at work,my obligation will have been met and the defendant will be back on thestreet with a whole new set of rejection issues.”He grumbled something in Armenian that didn’t sound like it translated to”Live long and prosper” and went back to moving papers from stack “A” intostack “C” while bypassing stack ‘B’. He was not convinced.The big day arrived with an overcast sky and a promise of long hoursstaring out an eleventh floor window. Since, like everyone else inHollywood, what he really wanted to do was write he’d printed out severalchapters of his book with the intention of proofing them during the longhours of sitting around being civic minded.He donned his three piece suit, a practice that began and ended the sameday, and left the house a full ninety minutes early. What was he thinking?It occurred to him that the court system might want to reconsider usage ofthe words “convenient” and “nearby” in their description of jurorparking. A half a mile, straight down, beneath the streets of Los Angeles,in what people swore would someday be the Disney Hall parking garage,hardly counted as nearby and may, in fact, have constituted false andmisleading advertising.Tom left his precious truck in the capable hands of two parking attendantsnamed Hades and Persephone and started off for the Criminal CourtsBuilding. It was on that trek that he first saw Officer Velasquez.They were standing at opposite corners at the intersection of Temple andBroadway. He was heading north toward the Hahn Building. Tom was goingsouth but would much rather have been going north: right behind him.He prided himself on being observant, and what he observed at that momentwas flat out the hottest man to ever strap on a 357 Magnum. He wasperfection in blue. Everything about him: from the way he stood, shoulderssquared and head held high to the fit of his dark blue uniform put to restthe image of the cop on a perpetual jelly doughnut rush.The light changed and Tom shifted his attention to fine detail mode. Unlesshe was willing to tackle him and run the risk of an assault charge, he’dhave maybe fifteen seconds to take inventory before he passed fromview. Beep. Scanners on. Name: Velasquez (see name tag). Height: 6″2″Weight: 195 Race: Hispanic. Build: muscular. Pecs: huge. Arms: seemassive. Legs: powerful. Hair: buzz cut, hidden under hat: dark stubbleindicates black. Eyes: mirrored, hidden by glasses. Probability of beingbrown: 95%. Facial features: strong jaw. Indications of broken nose,probably not recent. Moustache: neatly trimmed. Other: tattoo on rightand left forearms. Equipment: unknown. Underwear: unknown. Probabilityof underwear being jockstrap: 35%. Butt: unknown: damned bus. [Enter]Data is incomplete. Save? Yes: [enter] Saving: please wait.Officer Velasquez disappeared behind a herd of stampeding Secretariesbefore Tom could safely turn around and amend the file to include hisbutt. All he could do was replay what he’d already committed to memory. Therest he could fill in as the fantasy dictated. He shifted his knapsack tothe other shoulder and started for the entrance.In spite of the metal detector with an intense dislike for his steel toeboots, the Criminal Courts building was a revelation for someone with athing for uniforms. There was a uniform everywhere he turned, runningsingularly and in groups, free as the wind just as nature intended.While not all were filled as spectacularly as that of Officer Velasquez,the sight of a patrolman striding across the polished terrazzo floor withthe morning sun reflecting off his helmet was one Tom had come toappreciate on many levels. Mostly it made him hard just to think of whatwas hidden beneath all that gabardine and leather. He was looking forwardto having hours and hours of sitting around watching them.The “hours and hours” turned into exactly 93 minutes. That’s how long ittook from the time he walked into the assembly room to the time his namewas called for a panel.It was on the second day of jury selection that he was seated as one of twoalternates. Number six juror was excused on the third day and Tom waspicked as his replacement. His fate was sealed.Gone were the best laid plans that would turn a tedious duty into anexperience he could draw upon when his book made the Times Best Sellerslist and he was making the rounds of the talk shows.”Ya see, Mister Leno,” he’d have said with a touch of irony in hisvoice. “Chapters one through fifteen were finished while I was doing mycivic duty.”Real life had reared its ugly head and it was time to take thingsseriously. Two guys, each young enough to be his younger brothers, were ontrial for murder. They were gang members accused of “doming” a fellowgangsta by the name of Little Happy Face. They’d mistakenly thought himguilty of snitching on yet another member.It was on the third depressing day of testimony, after the lunch break,that the jurors were called from the jury room and things got reallyinteresting. Tom had made a point of never looking directly at thespectators, but something at the far end of the first row of the right sidecaught his eye as he perused his notes. It was the unmistakable glint of ametal shield: the shield of none other than Officer Velasquez.He was chatting with the Bailiff and a plain clothes officer who would looklike a cop no matter what he was wearing. All three were amazing, each inhis own way, but it was Velasquez that held Tom’s attention. While hetalked, his eyes swept over the courtroom until he got to the jurybox. Then, starting at the far end, he studied each juror until he got toTom. His expression remained impassive and unchanged but there wassomething about the way he looked at him.Tom returned his steady gaze until the spell was broken by his respondingto something the Bailiff said and averting his eyes. Either he’d seensomething that bothered him or there was a really interesting stain on thecarpet that commanded his attention. In either case, he didn’t look upuntil the court was called back in session and testimony resumed.”The prosecution calls Officer Anthony Velasquez to the stand.”Judging from the reaction of the spectators, his was a familiar name. Ahush fell on the courtroom as he got up from his seat. Whether thefamiliarity came from fear or respect remained to be seen.Unlike most of the witnesses he sat ramrod straight and didn’t play to thejury. His responses were matter of fact and directed at the Attorney askingthe questions. He’d arrested the first witness for the prosecution, and wasthere to recount the details of how Baby J had volunteered theincriminating evidence.Yes he was aware that Baby J had clamed up tighter than Jerry Falwell’sbutt at a Gay Pride parade (not his exact words) but insisted the reasonsfor his sudden amnesia were more sinister than those suggested by thedefense.It was a good showing made better by his confidence and commandingpresence. His voice was clear and strong and hinted at an upbringing onwhat some considered to be the wrong side of the tracks. The defense made ahalf-hearted stab at undermining his credibility, but gave up after a fewlame questions regarding his background.Tom took copious notes during the ten minutes that Officer Velasquez was onthe stand. Not only did he note what was said but also how he said it. Henoted the reactions of the defendants, their Attorneys and even the judgeas Velasquez fielded the questions with aplomb.It would all come in handy later on when they began to pour over thetestimony. Only one notation was made that in no way involved thecase. That one came as he was leaving the stand and was walking past thejury box.Revise data entry. [Enter] Eyes: green. [Enter] Overwrite existing data?Yes. [Enter] Updating information; Please wait.”Green eyes, huh?” Tom thought to himself. So much for the laws ofprobability.While all of this drama was going on, Tom was spending a good part of hislunch breaks staring at the old Hall of Justice across the street. You’veprobably seen it from the Hollywood freeway or in Dragnet episodes from thefifties.It’s one of those enormous buildings they used to erect to remind people oftheir lowly place in society. In the eyes of those who get paid to makesuch decisions, it had outlived its usefulness and was closed after theearthquake of 94.The only thing preventing it from being pulled down was the expense ofdemolition. Perhaps somebody highly placed had a secret hope that somewhereon the street was a vagrant packing a couple of thousand pounds ofexplosives, an itchy trigger finger and a grudge against the system.Sometimes Tom would walk around it trying to imagine what it looked likebefore it was incarcerated behind chain link fences and plywood. It lookedso forlorn: like an old Civil Servant put out to pasture with nothing to doafter years of service.It was during those times, while staring at the blank windows and wonderingwhat lay behind the dirty glass, that Tom started seeing Velasquez on asemi-regular basis. On two occasions he was walking toward City Hall withtwo other LAPD Officers.Another time he was deep in conversation with a CHP Officer as they stoodoutside the cafeteria. Once he was even alone and crossing Temple Streetagainst the light but it never once occurred to Tom to attempt aconversation. With the nature of the trial being what it was, there wererules about jurors and witnesses, past or future, not being allowed tospeak. He wasn’t about to jeopardize the trial by allowing his libido torun amok.In a perverse sort of way it helped when Tom realized that Velasquezprobably didn’t know that he was alive and that it would no doubt stay thatway. Of course nobody said he couldn’t think about it at night when he wasalone in the darkness with just his right hand for company.It was always the same. Tom would climb into bed, mentally, physically andemotionally exhausted, and Velasquez would be waiting for him under thesheets. The instant he closed his eyes he’d see him in his uniform andthings began to happen.It didn’t seem to matter what his intentions had been or how much he neededto sleep. He’d roll over on his stomach and the scene in the courtroomwhere he walked past the jury box and he got a close up view of his buttwould replay itself. Suddenly that same butt would be under him. A voicewould be begging him to fill his hole and he’d be humping the pillow andjacking himself off to a messy but satisfying climax.As it turned out, the trial phase took less time than thedeliberations. For six days the jurors showed up at the same time to pourover the evidence and go over the testimony. Most of it was useless crapstammered out by witnesses intimidated to the point where a sudden move byanyone in the room would have them peeing in their pants.Only the solid and unshakable testimony of Officer Velasquez held up toclose scrutiny. It seemed that everyone liked him. Tom had never met theguy, yet he had to admit to taking some satisfaction in his choice of lunchtime fantasies.They finished just before the Fourth of July weekend. Thanks mostly to someminor issues and technicalities that couldn’t be explained (or justified)only one of the two hoods went to jail. The other one would have to beretried. Once again the legal system had been shown to work, warts and all,when given the chance.Later, after they were excused and given their pardons, Tom took his lastelevator ride with a sense of relief and, strangely, loss. He read the ganggraffiti on the walls as the tiny car bumped and jolted between floors, andwondered how anyone found the opportunity to deface public property.There were people everywhere he looked, all wearing the same expression ofgrim determination to either beat the system or use it to their ownend. Except for sporadic Velasquez sightings, there was nothing he’dmiss. It was a mystery as to where was the sense of loss was coming from.He was standing just outside the main entrance, taking a last look at theimmense gray hulk across the street, when he noticed that someone wasstanding at his side. He turned, half expecting to see one of Crazy J’sfamily members out for revenge, and nearly fell on his ass.It was none other than Officer Velasquez, in all his glory, looking at apoint about half way up the side of the building. Tom had never thought itpossible, but he was even more spectacular when he was close enough tokiss: which he very much wanted to do.”Damn he’s a hot fucker,” Tom thought to himself.”What’s so fascinating?” Velasquez asked gesturing toward the granitefaçade.Tom waited for a bus to rumble by before answering. Surely he hadn’tnoticed him staring. He’d been so careful. Yeah. Right.”I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Tom replied at last. “What makes youthink I’m fascinated with y… uh… It… It’s just an old b… building.””Because you don’t strike me as the type to write something off before allof the facts are presented. Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been staring.””There’s n… not that m… much to look at around here,” Tomstammered. Aside from still not being sure of what they were talking about,he was mortified at his sudden inability to communicate without stammering.Velasquez just laughed and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Tom hoped itwould go unnoticed when he jumped.”Depends on where you’re looking,” Velasquez said taking a stepbackwards. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”Tom’s heart was pounding as he watched the good-looking policeman turn andstart across the plaza. He’d have to think of something” fast.”You silver tongued schmuck,” Tom muttered to himself when his mindremained blank. “Now he thinks that you’re not interested.”Then, just when it was starting to look as if he would walk out of Tom’slife forever, he came back. “Listen, I’ve got to go now, but would you beinterested in getting a closer look?””A closer look” A closer look at what?””The building” The one you’ve been staring at all week.””Yeah sure. I guess that would be…””How’s tomorrow afternoon around one?”Tom didn’t have to think twice. The next day was Saturday and he shelvedall social engagements for the duration of his jury service. Now that hewas a free man, he couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate his freedomthan with a guided tour of a musty old jail.””Yeah. Okay,” Tom said glancing at the massive plywood barriers. “Should Ibring a hammer and a chain saw?””No need for that. I’ve got the key. I stop by a couple of times a weekduring my off duty hours and keep an eye on the place. I’ll meet you at theparking lot entrance.”He jotted down Tom’s phone number, in case there was a change in plans, andsauntered down the hill to his cruiser. The way he sort of swaggered whenhe walked made Tom hope the elevators in the Hall of Justice were shutdown. How bad could eleven flights of stairs be with that butt leading theway”He was ramming his cock up Ben Affleck’s ass, while Hugh Jackmanmasturbated on his face, when the phone rousted him from his sex-drencheddream. Still hard enough to shatter brick, he stumbled from the bed andgrabbed it before the machine kicked on.”Huh?””Hey Tom. This is Anthony Velasquez. You up yet?””Funny you should mention that,” Tom said looking down at his stiffie andgiving it a couple of strokes. “Yeah, I’m definitely up. So” uh” What’shappening?””I’m going to be up in your neighborhood today. I was thinking that insteadof you driving downtown, I could swing by and pick you up. It would savetime.””Uh, yeah. That’s fine. What time should I…””Great. I’ll see you at eleven. Dress for action.””Eleven” I thought you said… Hey don’t you want my address?”It was too late. Velasquez had already hung up. Tom glanced at the clockand groaned. It was just after eight. That meant he had less than threehours to get an entire day’s errands out of the way. How could he haveknown that his ability to perform under pressure would be put to the testseveral times over the course of the day”Velasquez, still in uniform, was knocking at the door, on time, at thestroke of eleven. Thinking he’d been called in to work unexpectedly, Tom’sheart sank a little.”Last minute change of plans?” he asked cautiously as the sexy cop walkedin.”No. Why do you ask?””You’re in uniform,” he responded stating the obvious.”I’m just now getting off. There’s a change of clothes in the trunk. We’vegot a lot of ground to cover, and it seemed more practical.””I see,” Tom mumbled lamely, offering a silent plea to whatever deityhappened to be in charge of such things to keep him soft. They were aloneand Velasquez was in his uniform. If you asked Tom’s friends to describehis good points, self control when confronted by a uniform wasn’t somethingthat readily popped into their heads.”I hope being seen leaving with a cop doesn’t screw up your reputation withyour neighbors,” Velasquez added seeing Tom’s distressed expression.Tom looked over his shoulder toward the houses across the street. His Gayneighbors had already congregated at the base of Mark’s driveway, watchingto see what happened next. How did they know?”Don’t worry about them,” Tom said as he locked the door. “There are asmany who know me to be a good, law abiding citizen as there are peoplewho’d figure it was just a matter of time until I got caught. The otherswould just assume that I… uh…”There was no need to take the conversation in that particular direction andhe didn’t bother to finish the sentence. They were just getting in the car,a late model BMW, when Tom made the mistake of looking up.”Don’t worry, honey,” Mark called out. “We’ll bail you out.”Velasquez observed them from the rear view mirror while adjusting his seatbelt. “Which are they?” he asked.Tom waited until they’d backed out and were half way up the block beforestealing a glance at the assemblage of neighbors waving from the curb. “I’mnot sure,” he muttered through clenched teeth.For the most part, the conversation on the way downtown centered on thetrial and why the jury arrived at that particular verdict. Velasquez didn’tseem especially surprised when Tom mentioned the weakness of theprosecution witnesses.”It happens all the time,” he said quietly. “People get themselves allfired up to testify because they want revenge. The big day comes and theyshow up ready to put the fuckers away and all they can see from the witnessstand is an audience filled with gangbangers. The reality hits and they gobrain dead and forget all about the friend they saw die in the street. Thebad guys walk and we’re left standing there with shit on our shoes.””I’m not sure the public would like to hear that.”Velasquez gripped the wheel tightly but kept his eyes focused straightahead.”They shouldn’t,” he answered while keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Maybethey should get mad enough to do something.”Fearing that he might have hooked relaxbet güvenilirmi up with one of those law and orderextremists who keeps a year’s supply of freeze dried emergency rations inhis cellar, Tom didn’t ask him to elaborate.”You never told me how you knew where I lived,” he said nudging theconversation toward something less socially relevant.”I’m a cop,” Velasquez answered matter-of-factly as they turned on to thesouth bound freeway. “I know a lot of things about you.””I don’t think I like the sound of that,” Tom replied flatly. He looked outthe side window. The tinted glass made the sunny day appear dark andovercast.”You’ve got nothing to worry about,” the cop said with an enigmatic grin.Tom would never know what was going through Velasquez’s mind when his righthand left the steering wheel. Maybe he’d intended to pat his legreassuringly and reconsidered the move. The sight of it coming to rest onthe center console left him as disappointed as he was confused.The weather had warmed up considerably by the time they pulled into theparking lot. Let the records show that in the name of propriety, Tomsuccessfully resisted the urge to throw him to the ground and lick thesweat from his forehead when the cop unlocked the sliding gate and wrestledit aside.It seemed wise to focus his attention on his bulging and stretching bicepsand leave the hardcore fantasy stuff to Chi Chi LaRue. If he noticed Tom’sappreciative stares he didn’t let on. He simply dusted off his hands andglanced up at the unusually blue sky.”Looks like we’re in for a hot one today,” the cop observed as he startedup the loading ramp.”I sure as shit hope so,” Tom thought once he realized that the partialerection that first came up when he opened his front door still hadn’t goneaway. It was still rubbing uncomfortably against the seam of his Levis ashe followed at his heels.He listened intently while Velasquez rattled off a string of facts aseasily as if he’d given the tour a hundred times before. It was somethingthat he’d failed to consider before.”How often do you conduct these tours, Officer Velasquez?” Tom interrupted.Velasquez came to a stop outside a formidable looking metal door. Hisexpression was one of genuine surprise as he looked over his shoulder.”Never. You’re the first one I’ve brought here. Why do you ask?””No special reason. All of this information makes you sound like a tourguide.””It’s funny you should say that. My first job after getting out of theMarine Corp was as a studio Tour Guide. I believe in knowing everythingthere is to know about anything I’m involved with. Does that bother you?””This is just fucking great,” Tom thought to himself. He shook his head andlooked out across the desolate loading dock. “He’s a cop… and a formerMarine. This boner is never going to go down.”Truer words had never gone unspoken. Everything he did from the moment theystepped through the door seemed calculated to keep Tom hard. He hadn’trealized the full extent of the cop’s actions until he was standing in themiddle of what used to be the booking room watching him turning on lights.Velasquez was pushing him with a word here, a phrase there and a seeminglyinnocent gesture thrown in for good measure. Toward what Tom could onlyguess and fantasize.”Come on in here while I change. It’s the old locker room,” Velasquez saidguiding him toward a door marked Authorized Personnel Only.His hand lingered on Tom’s shoulder, then slid down his back until itstopped just a couple of inches from his belt and a whole new level ofinvolvement. Tom gritted his teeth trying to will his whopper woody back toparade rest as they started through the door.Once inside, Tom left Velasquez to change his clothes unm*****ed and setout on a self guided tour around the room. He peered down the rows of metallockers and poked his head into the white tile shower stalls. Thanks inpart to the lingering smell of old cock sweat and the effects of an alreadyover-stimulated libido, he could easily imagine them filled with wet, nakedmen laughing and joking above the steady hiss of water.>From there, they’d walk back to their lockers. Some would be wrapped in atowel. Others would be naked… their damp cocks flopping in the steamyair… balls swinging from front to back” right to left.Some would be coming on duty and would don their uniforms for the firsttime that day. Others would be finishing their watch and would put theiruniform away still smelling of whatever surprises the day had provided.There’d be locker room talk about wives, k**s, girlfriends and barroompickups. They’d discuss Lana Turner’s knockers and the gams on that streetwalker that worked the corner of Sixth and Hill, but they’d never speculateon how well hung Tyrone Power was.Back in the late twenties, around the time that it was built, therewould’ve been snide, some might say bitchy, remarks about a bunch ofpansies, including William Haynes, being arrested in PershingSquare. Nobody would ask why the cops were even bothering them. Thatwouldn’t happen for another sixty years.The subject of all the Gay men who disappeared into the shadows out of fearwould be studiously avoided. Many of them would end up in this verybuilding watching their futures being destroyed with the rap of a gavel.”Talk about your sexual depressant,” Tom thought to himself as he wanderedback to check on Officer Velasquez.Tom had gone completely soft long before he reached the end of the row oflockers. Officer Velasquez looked up and grinned as Tom peered around thecorner and cleared his throat. The hot young cop was down to a very wellfilled jockstrap but hadn’t gotten around to pulling on the white tank tophanging from the locker door.Seeing the cop astride the scarred bench, jockstrap clad and gleaming withsweat, should have brought Tom’s erection roaring back to life butdidn’t. He ambled over to the next row of lockers to wait.”Screw it,” Tom muttered softly. “Don’t do that to yourself.””Sorry to take so long,” Velasquez called out. “My uniform has to make itthrough another shift. I’ll be just a second.””Take your time,” Tom called out nonchalantly. “There’s lots to see overhere.”Truthfully, there was nothing new to see on either side of the bank oflockers. He’d seen well filled jock straps numerous times in the AthleticClub locker room, and just as many banged up lockers with names scrawled inblack marker pen.Tom thought that perhaps Velasquez had wanted him to see him likethat. Maybe it was all some kind of test to see how he’d react. If so, whatdid he think he was going to do: drop to his knees and beg for theprivilege of sucking his cock””Not fucking likely,” he thought. Under other circumstances he just mighthave taken the bait, but not this time.If Velasquez was playing games, Tom was having no part of it. He was pastthat stage in his sexual development and had no desire to relive theexperience. He had better things to do: things like examining a shortlength of bench that had been dinged and scarred by three generations ofhandcuffs and dildo-shaped Billy clubs.Velasquez appeared, fully dressed, from around the corner. Tom’sdisinterest seemed to have a galvanizing effect on Officer Velasquez.”All ready to do some exploring?” he asked brightly.”Lead the way,” Tom replied while silently asking himself the question ofthe hour; “What the hell am I doing?”He’d been asking himself that question a lot, and was no closer to ananswer than he’d been that first morning of jury duty. Had he been so takenwith the stud cop and what he might be packing between his legs that he wasignoring something more significant”Granted, there’d been a guard at the parking lot entrance, but what if thetwo of them were in on a plot to bash an unwitting fag? The old buildingwas the ideal spot for a mugging. If the intention was for him to notsurvive the ordeal, who’d be the wiser?His neighbors saw a guy in a uniform, and that could describe half the guyshe went out with. That, and the knowledge that there was an entire cityblock over their heads to hide the body, led him to wonder why he hadn’tthought twice about accepting the invitation.Tom hadn’t experienced such paranoia since his d**g dabbling years at MountSan Antonio College. He missed the good old days when you met someone andhad his pants down around his ankles inside of ten minutes: never thinkingof ulterior motives.A long corridor with a low ceiling and walls painted institutional greenled to a giant holding cell, roughly forty feet on a side. Velasquezstepped up to the bars and stared into the gloomy interior.”This is where they kept the perverts before taking them upstairs to thejail,” he said tensely.”Uh oh,” Tom said to himself. “Here it comes.”Officer Velasquez’s hands gripped the bars tightly, pressing his chestagainst the cold steel. The friendly demeanor was gone: his voice an icyecho in the cavernous room.”Imagine what it was like to be crowded in here with fifty other guys likecattle waiting to be slaughtered. Imagine having to endure the jokes andthe taunting of people who went out of their way for a glimpse of what aqueer looked like. Imagine what it was like being looked at as inferior tomurderers and r****ts.””Every minority group has its stories of degradation and discrimination,”Tom replied stepping up to the bars. He was unsure of where his line ofthought was headed.Velasquez turned from the dingy cell without comment, pausing to lookdeeply into Tom’s eyes before continuing down the hall. Conversation becamesporadic and tense after that.The two men advanced through a maze of corridors and rooms that seemed topush them forward and in circles at the same time. One room, however, was adead end. Officer Velasquez shined his flashlight into the tiny windowlesscubicle.”They uncovered this room after the 94 quake. There was some bad shit thatwent down in there… back in the old days… stuff they didn’t want thepublic to know about. They hid it behind a false wall back in the latefifties.”Tom shined his flashlight against the back wall and shuddered. The brownsmears on the dirty green paint left little doubt as to the nature of theirdirty little secret. With all of their faults, the LAPD had at least madethat much progress.”Suddenly jury duty doesn’t seem so bad… considering the alternative,” hemuttered as he backed away.”No shit,” Velasquez responded softly. The beam from his light traced anarc across the ceiling and back down the narrow corridor. “We’ll go thisway.””Right behind you, Ossifer Sir.”The tour made its way upward. Tom observed Officer Anthony Velasquezintently from a respectful distance. There was something that went beyondhow great he had looked in his LAPD blues that fascinated him: somethingthat made getting into his pants less important than getting into his head.The oppressive weight of the building began to lift the moment they emergedat the north end of the ground floor. The grime encrusted windows kept thevast marble clad lobby in a state of perpetual twilight that not even thepowerful beams of their heavy flashlights could overcome. The old place hadendured a lot of years of indifference and neglect.A threadbare carpet of paper, sluggish dust bunnies and broken glasscrunched flatly beneath their feet as they crossed the lobby in a straightline toward the long bank of elevators. It was an odd contrast to the lowerlevels where each sound constantly doubled back on itself and walking morethan twenty feet in a straight line was out of the question.Officer Velasquez stopped to examine a sheet of paper wedged between themetal track and the marble floor outside elevator Number Five. He playedhis flashlight across what appeared to be random doodles and stuck thewadded paper into his back pocket. The door slid open and they stepped intothe gloomy interior.Velasquez punched the eleventh floor button and joined his companion at theback of the car. Tom’s stomach remained nailed to the ground floor as thedoors shut and they began the slow, lurching upward climb..Tom was no Humphrey Bogart, and Velasquez sure as shit wasn’t Mary Astor,but the old fashioned arrow pointer edging its way across the dial towardthe right side reminded him of one of those black and white detectivemovies from the forties. There’d be a fifteen minute trial on one of theupper floors in which a surprise revelation from an unexpected source wouldeither convict or exonerate the accused man. His heart began to race.”God, I’m getting delirious,” Tom thought to himself. Only the heat fromVelasquez’s arm as they were repeatedly jostled and bumped against eachother could distract him from thinking too much. He had a rabid dislike ofriding in creaking old elevators inside neglected old public buildings withsomeone he barely knew.The tour began with the actual jail at the very top and worked its way downfloor by floor. They passed through the old law library, still heavy withthe acidic aroma of old books and silver fish, to the cafeteria that wouldsmell of fish and meat loaf for as long as the building remained standing.There were stops at office doors that bore the ghostly outline of famousnames in legal history. The doors were locked, but Tom was assured thatanything worth seeing had long since been removed.What little light there was came from a couple of widely spaced fluorescentlights and from between the slowly turning blades of the giant vent fans ateither end of the wide empty hall.”Shit!”They’d come to a set of double doors marked “Superior Court A – Room900″. Finding them locked, Anthony cursed softly as he searched for the keyon a ring as big as his fist. Tom stood by patiently until the doors flewopen with a flourish.”Another court room? ” Tom asked as he followed him inside. “Haven’t youhad enough court rooms for awhi…”Tom fell silent as he looked over the cop’s shoulder. Compared to the onethat stretched out before them, the court rooms across the street were woodpaneled toilet stalls with foam padded seats. The flag poles behind thejudge’s bench were empty, and the city seal was missing from the wall butother from that, it looked as if court had simply recessed for the day.”This is impressive,” Tom said easing past the handsome cop. “How long didyou say you’ve been a museum curator?”The cop pushed the giant doors closed. “It’s not as anal as itappears. There’s been talk about using it to take some of the load off theCriminal Courts Building.””And in your spare time you come in and tidy up?” Tom offered as hestrolled across the last row of the spectator gallery. “I’ve imagined youassuming a lot of positions, but on your knees with a scrub brush wasn’tamong them.”It was a lot less subtle than he’d intended. Velasquez followed him downthe row, brushing dust from the bench seat as he went along.”I don’t do any of this,” he countered. “City workers do it all. I justcome in to make sure it’s been done right. What kinds of positions have youimagined me assuming?””Say what?””I asked what kinds of positions…””I… uh… You know…The usual,” Tom replied shakily. He stepped over thebar and approached the defense table. Was it his imagination or were theyplaying cat and mouse? If so, what part was he playing?Velasquez advanced toward the witness stand with the same self-assuredstride he’d shown across the street. He turned and leaned against the darkpolished wood of the judge’s bench. Bathed in the diffused light of thefloor to ceiling windows to his right, one thing was certain; the cop knewhow to present himself.”Define usual positions.””You know… On your knees… Holding a gun… Getting ready to shoot,” Tomblurted out.Thankfully, nothing came to mind that involved his being on his back withhis legs in the air. Tom felt that he was already knee-deep in doubleentendres. He wiped a thin film of perspiration from his forehead and saton the edge of the table.”Really? I don’t get to use it as often as some of the other guys,”Velasquez repled. An enigmatic smile playing across his full kissable lips.Tom’s eye dropped to the rising bulge behind the buttons of the policeman’sfaded 501s. Earlier conservative estimates of size would have to be revisedupward to allow for double digit inflation.”I’ve heard that a… gun… should be used…”Velasquez trapped and held him prisoner with his incredible green eyes. Hisright hand slid downward from his waist band. His thumb disappeared betweenthe third and fourth buttons.”Were you ever in the military?” he asked, stroking the lurking b**st inhis basket.”N… No. Why do you ask?” Tom stammered.”We had a saying in the Marines. ‘This is my weapon. This is my gun. One isfor killing. The other’s for fun.’ Which one are you talking about?””You left your holster downstairs… in the locker and I’m strictlynon-violent,” he whispered hoarsely. He wanted to say more but his throathad gone dry.Velasquez pushed away from the polished mahogany witness stand and slowlyapproached the table. Tom’s erection, now unencumbered by the whims ofpropriety, gleefully charged down his left thigh and was once again pushingpainfully against the inner seam of his pants. Velasquez stepped betweenTom’s legs as he spread them to relieve the pressure.”Nice gun you’ve got, buddy. You up for some target practice?” hewhispered, rubbing his hand up and down the length of Tom’s swollen, rockhard cock.As you might imagine, Tom was pretty fucking confused. The guy liked him;that much was obvious from the way he pressed their crotches together. Thequestions that came to mind centered on the word “why”. Why on the ninthfloor of the Hall Of Justice? Why not some place private where there was aguaranteed supply of lube?Los Angeles was as well known for its good looking men as it was for smog,freeways and earthquakes. Why had he been signaled out? He’d been told thathe was quite a good looking guy in his own right. As a strapping 6’4″, 190pound blonde with blue eyes and a big dick he embodied, at least on paper,a sort of Tom of Finland ideal. In real life he was just a regular guy.Thankfully, Velasquez didn’t seem to agree. Who was Tom to turn down suchan appealing invitation when there were men going to bed celibate and hornyall over the city?Tom couldn’t remember the exact words that came to mind as the silence ofthe ninth floor enveloped them, but he was sure they weren’t “stop or I’llshoot” or “fire when ready”. He was positive that he didn’t say: “don’tshoot until you see the whites of their eyes”. He was looking right intothe cop’s eyes and so far there was only a small sticky spot near the tipof his dick. He still hadn’t popped his load.It didn’t really matter what was said. What did matter was the fact thatweeks of fantasies hung in the balance: fantasies that could come toglorious reality or go down in a hail of misfired bullets.The prospect of touching Velasquez for the first time threw Tom’s braininto overload. How would he remember the sensation when he wasn’t sure thateven his ever vigilant scanners could be trusted.He could say that touching the cop’s skin was like running his fingersacross a silk sheet at the height of passion but decided that it soundedtoo much like Barbara Cartland on a poppers rush. Thinking of the cop’schest in terms of being as being smooth as that of a young boy weirded himout. It was also inappropriate and probably i*****l.Given the intensely sexual nature of the situation, he wasn’t particularlysurprised when his thoughts turned to jerking off. He thought of a day inthe not too distant past when he was especially horny and spent an entirerainy afternoon engaged in a marathon masturbatory orgy. He remembered thesound of the rain falling on the leaves of the tree outside his window andhow the sound brought out the sexually insatiable b**st in him.Most of all he remembered laying on the bed in the cool gray light watchinga pool of cum run down his chest and collect in his navel. Touching it,savoring its perfection made him forget all about the cum towel. Maybe thatwould be how he’d remember the first time that he placed a trembling handon Velasquez’s muscular chest: touching perfection.He buried his face in the crook of the cop’s neck and inhaled deeply. Hisnatural scent and the heady aroma of clean sweat made him dizzy with lustas he worked his way down his right shoulder and back.Some people say that the first kiss is the toughest, even if the reasonsare unclear. You can suck his cock dry or fuck him senseless. You can shoveyour tongue, your finger or even your fist up his ass and he won’t raise asingle objection but for some the kiss is the last great frontier.For all his bravado, Velasquez was no exception. He resisted as their lipsbrushed on their way to some other less threatening spot. Ears? Noproblem. Neck or throat? Ditto. Shoulders? Don’t stop Dude. Lips? Later,amigo: or so he thought.Tom was on his way to the other side when Velasquez’s full, kissable lipscame within snapping distance. He grabbed the back of his head and pulledhim relaxbet yeni giriş forward. The cop shook his head and tried to pull away but Tom’s gripwas too strong.”I don’t kiss,” he whispered, urgently pulling at as many buttons as he waspushing.”Yes you do,” Tom countered.”No,” he insisted. “Not for a one shot… Oh fuck.””Again with the guns? What makes you think this is a one shot fuck? Tommumbled as he pulled his fly open and shoved his hand inside.Tom wrapped his strong fingers around the cop’s prodigious piece. Velasqueztook a deep ragged breath and let it out slowly.”What makes… you think… it isn’t?” he asked with a surprised gasp.”Because you didn’t go to all this trouble just for a quick blow job. Hehad something else in mind,” Tom replied.”Maybe I like to do it in exotic places,” Velasquez offered while shovingTom’s pants down around his knees.Tom found himself sitting on the edge of the table. The wood felt coolagainst his naked butt as he leaned back. That was when it hit him.”You’ve never kissed another guy, have you?””Sure I have,” Velasquez protested: albeit lamely. “I’ve done it lots oftimes with…””I know: with lots of guys. Every one of them was a meaningfulrelationship, huh?”It was a mystery to Tom why he was copping an attitude instead of afeel. Officer Velasquez’s defensiveness told him everything he needed toknow, yet he was compelled to go on. Officer Velasquez was a true romanticadrift in a world of quickie blow jobs. Something that he’d read aboutD. H. Lawrence came to mind. It described the great author as being asexual idealist trapped in a repressed age. If his instincts were right thehunky cop was about to be set free.”No, but…”Tom stroked himself but was careful not to get carried away. Already sohard that it actually hurt, there was a point that had to be made.”Uh huh. See I don’t like games unless I’m in on the rules and I don’t liketo be kept in the dark. Up to now, that’s exactly what’s been happening soI’ll tell you what I’m going to do. If all you had in mind was getting yourrocks off, I’ll put this back in my pants and we’ll finish the tour as ifall of this never happened. No hard feelings. It’s your call, OfficerVelasquez.”Velasquez stepped out of his pants and stretched out on top of him. Hisface hovered above Tom’s as his eyes searched for a hint ofdeception. Yeah, it was that obvious.Frankly, Tom was as surprised at his own candor as Velasquez appeared tobe. He clamped one hand around a bulging tricep, the other around the backof his neck and started to pull him forward.”You won’t find it. Stop wasting time,” Tom said as he closed the distance.Let the records show that Officer Anthony Ruben Velasquez’s first ever kissby another man took place on the defense table in Superior Court A, Room900, on the afternoon of July the third at approximately two in theafternoon.Tom’s sense of vindication was immediate. Once his reservations were put torest, it was like a flood gate had been opened. Suddenly the hunky cop wasall over him, his tongue probing and pushing against Tom’s in a first kissneither one wanted to end.Not surprisingly his jockstrap, having been stretched to capacity,relinquished its hold and his huge uncut whopper joined Tom’s in the warmstill air of the courtroom. Now with their cocks pressed together, skinagainst skin as they rolled across the table, nothing else mattered.The intermittent rain of keys and coins falling from his pockets remindedTom that his pants were still down around his ankles and there were thingsthat he might need rolling beneath the chairs. Anthony closed his eyes andtook a deep breath as Tom pulled out from under him and slid from thetable.”What’s wrong?” Velasquez asked. Confusion clouded his strong, masculineface as Tom stood with his boner waving in the still air.”Not a thing. I’ll be with you as soon as I get my pants off,” he saidpointing to the jumble of fabric covering his shoes.Velasquez glanced at the floor, then scrambled off the table and dropped toone knee to help him undress.”Let me give you a hand with that.””How cool is this?” Tom thought to himself as the cop untied his bootlaces. “The man of my dreams is at my feet… on his knees with his bighairy balls swinging beneath a big uncut dick bobbing up and down betweenhis powerful legs. All I have to do is stand here and enjoy the show. Howmany writers would kill for such inspiration?”Free at last from the last remnants of his sartorial respectability Tompulled him, slowly, to his feet. Never once did their bodies losecontact. Never once did he doubt that his fortitude was being tested asVelasquez dragged his silky smooth chest upward: first against his crotch,then rising slow and unhurried over his stomach until Tom could his heartbeating against his own. A dazzling ray of white light streamed in from thesouth end of the room as their lips met.”Jesus,” Tom croaked. “You should come packaged with a vial of Nitrotablets. That trick could give a lesser man heart failure.””You liked that, huh? Don’t expect it too often. It’s hell on the knees,”he replied as he led Tom back to the Prosecution table.Tom no longer knew what to expect. The shy, reserved officer of the law wasgone. In his place stood a man who, based on early estimates, could sendeven the best of lovers back for a refresher course. This, in turn, led tothe question of whether he’d ever existed at all.Tom stretched out on the gleaming oak surface and closed his eyes while thehandsome cop arranged his legs and himself between them. When he lookedagain, Velasquez was flat on his stomach. All he could see was his headpoised above his erection.Their eyes met as Velasquez grasped Tom’s quivering, quaking column of cockflesh (don’t ya love euphemisms”) and grinned. The time had come.”Buckle up and spread your legs, big guy. You’re in for the ride of yourlife,” Velasquez said with a low, sensual growl.Buckle up? No sweat. Spread his legs? How far? Tense with anticipation anddriven to the edge of total abandon by lust unparalleled in the annals ofsexuality, Tom would have done anything asked of him.As it turned out, the hard part was upholding a measure of dignity onceVelasquez got behind the wheel. In no time at all, Tom’s universe wasturned inside out and backward.Most guys who engage in public sex or as in their case, semi-public sex,get right down to business with none of the usual preliminaries. In thisrespect, Velasquez was no different. He began at the perineum, that littlepiece of sexual paradise between the balls and the butt hole, and lapped atthe hyper-sensitive flap of skin until waves of pleasure totally engulfedTom’s brain.”God, Velasquez. It feels so fucking good,” Tom cried out, mindless of whoelse might be around to hear.”Call me Mphmphmph,” the officer replied from between Tom’s spread legs.”What?””I said to call me Anthony,” he repeated. “My name’s Anthony.””Anything you say… Anthony. Just don’t stop eating my hole.”Velasquez… Anthony… responded to his words of encouragement byredoubling his efforts at turning him into a mindless prisoner ofsex. While clouds of dust, raised by the beating of Tom’s fists on thetable drifted toward the ceiling, Anthony’s tongue plunged into Tom’stwitching bung hole.”Do it Anthony!” Tom roared as his butt cheeks were pried apart. “Eat myass!”It felt good to give himself over to this man: to just lay back and enjoythe ride while his tongue did all the work. Tom had been tongued before,but never with such a level of expertise.Even in the old days, back when sex could be as adventurous as you couldstand, it was rare to find someone willing to go down that particular roadwith such eagerness. Whether he was a throwback to those hedonistic timesor he’d just been repressed for too long,there was something about Tom thatinspired Anthony Velasquez to act out his impulses with total abandon.Anthony went from eating ass to sucking cock without missing a stroke: soto speak. One minute Tom was writhing breathlessly on the edge of the tablewith his legs d****d over the cop’s wide shoulders, mulling over the eroticpossibilities of chin stubble on tender skin. The next thing he knew,Anthony’s warm mouth engulfed the head of his rigid, dripping cock and theacoustical tile ceiling erupted into a galaxy of shooting stars.Tom felt compelled to raise his head and witness the spectacle. As aveteran of numerous blow jobs, Tom was aware of the enormous “turn-on”potential in seeing his favorite external body part being serviced by sucha hot man. The simple act of watching it slide into the horny cop’s mouthuntil it bumped against the back of his throat flipped every switch on theboard. As for the way it looked as it emerged, glistening with saliva; itmade his heart race.”Okay. This is it,” he thought to himself, placing his hand on the back ofVelasquez’s head and urging him on. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”As if reading his mind, Anthony looked up from between his legs andwinked. He paused just long enough for his tongue to pass over and aroundthe hyper-sensitive corona.”That’s it, Anthony. Suck my big cock.”Tom grinned once it became clear that it was to be a wet suck, with equalmeasures of saliva and eagerness. He liked his blow jobs wet. He likedseeing the little rivulets of spit running down the length of his shaft andcollecting in his pubic hair. He liked the way that it felt when a breezewhispered over his moist prick. The soft slurping sound it made as it slidbetween Anthony’s soft lips was like music to his ears. The steady up anddown movement lulled him into a trance-like state where he heard onlybells.It seemed as if the carilloneur had no sooner begun his lengthy bell solothan he heard Anthony speak and opened his eyes. Anthony stood over himholding his big beautiful boner just inches from his face. Tom blinkedonce, swallowed twice and opened his mouth wide.”You want to give it a shot?” Anthony’s voice was low and insinuating as herubbed it teasingly across Tom’s sweaty forehead.”I’ll do more than that,” Tom growled, swinging his legs over the side ofthe table. “Get up here and spread ’em. I’m gonna eat me some cop butt.”Anthony looked dubious as the two men changed places. He wasn’t accustomedto taking orders from a civilian. He’d always been, in every aspect of hislife, a take charge sort of guy. Whether it was making a bust or making agood appearance on the witness stand, Anthony was used to people doing whathe wanted them to.Now he was the one with his knees shoved up around his ears with his tight,smooth butt cheeks spread wide. Tom forced his tongue into his puckeredhole.”Oh fucking hell!” Tony rasped as Tom buried his nose in the under side ofhis balls and pushed his tongue upward into mostly unexploredterritory. “That’s so fucking hot!””Haven’t had a lot of action down in these parts, huh?” Tom asked frombehind the erect cock that blocked his view of the cops face like a talltree swaying in the breeze.”Not like that… I mean not the way you do it.””Then you’ve been with some pretty stupid people who didn’t know what theywere missing.””I’ve never gotten to know any of them well enough to… I… OhJesus… Screw that. Don’t stop.”For Tom, things were turning out to be too good to be true. Anthony was theembodiment of every fantasy that his overactive brain could conceive. Theway he filled out a uniform was not to be believed. He was experienced, butnot so much so that he’d become jaded. He could still be impressed.Across the board and without exception, absolutely everything about thisguy excited him: from the way his crotch smelled (a given) to the peculiarway he breathed. At some point Tom realized there were two extra intakes ofbreath for every long one and even that was sexy. It may seem like a prettyodd thing to find exciting, but it made him mortal because a deity doesn’thave irregular breathing.He was also intelligent, sensitive and above all was a man ofconvictions. That alone was enough to inspire Tom to try that muchharder. If it turned out that Anthony was available and looking for someoneto share his life with, it might as well be him.”Me’teme en el culo,” Anthony whispered.”Huh?””Put your finger up my ass,” he repeated in English. “Just go easy.”Tom wet his right index finger and placed it against the puckered butthole, moving it in a tight little circle to relax the muscles and prepareit for what was to follow. Anthony moaned and spread his legs wide.”Go ahead” I can take it.”The question was whether or not Tom could. He spat on his finger again,repositioned myself and pushed inward while swallowing the groaningofficer’s cock down to the base. They’d have heard his surprised yell atthe front gate if not for the thick concrete walls.”Damn!” he screamed. “Suck my cock, man. Suck it hard!” He was practicallydoubled back with pleasure.As a long time practitioner of the oral arts, Tom came to the tableequipped with a long repertory of cock sucking routines. While most werehighly specialized and usable only on those for whom they were named, a fewwere easily adaptable to a wide number of recipients.Based on his reaction, Tom pegged Anthony to be a Number 47: the Joe-Bobknob-job. For the record, Joe-Bob was a Fresno motorcycle mechanic who alsohad a big, uncut torpedo-shaped dick. Like Officer Velasquez, J.B. loved tobe finger fucked while being sucked off.Number 47 required a bit more concentration than most. It involved exertinga tighter grip around the base, extra tongue action along the shaft, morethan the usual amount of suction at the head and a steady in and outprostate assault. Like any well executed routine, timing and coordinationwere all important.He’d seen a lot of beautiful sights up to that moment, but not one was asexhilarating as the sight of Anthony laying on that table bathed in a shaftof filtered sunlight. Tom loved the way that he played with his nipples,slowly rolling them between his thumb and forefinger while staring,trance-like, at the ceiling. All the tensions and anxieties of his job weregone from his face.”So what do you think?” Anthony asked after a long time.”About what?””This table. Think it’ll hold both of us?””Hard to say. It looks sturdy enough,” Tom replied. He peered underneath.”Then get your ass up here.””If it falls, do I get to sue the city?””Nope. Just me… and you’ll have to take it out in trade… but it’d beworth it for another shot at sucking your cock.””Slide over.”Tom extracted his finger from the stud cop’s butt. Even if the legs gaveout, assuming they didn’t break their necks in the fall, it would take ahell of a long time for him to work off a twenty million dollar lawsuit. The table creaked ominously but held firm as Tom stretched out at hisside, ready for round three.There are times when it’s just plain stupid to waste time on formalitiesand Tom figured this to be one of them. Officer Velasquez groaned softly ashe took up where he left off and drew his cock back into his mouth where,as far as he was concerned, it belonged. He attacked his friend’s genitalswith seemingly boundless exuberance, determined to drain every last drop ofcum from Anthony’s nuts by the time they were finished.Anthony took a more leisurely approach. His innate sense of what madepeople tick was proving to be especially useful in determining what threwTom’s switches. He knew that Tom wasn’t so impressed with his big dick thathe’d be content with having it waved in his face while jerking himself off.Anthony wasn’t lying when he said there’d been others. His past waslittered with mouths without faces. He’d left them where he found them:lurking behind glory holes in restroom stalls and in the alleys behind barsin towns where nobody knew who he was.Who was this man between his legs: the one sucking on his dick like there’dnever be a second chance? What was it about Tom that made him open himselfup in ways he’d never thought possible? Was it the way he’d caught on tohis bullshit game playing and had called him it or was that just anotherpart of the mysterious something that had first caught his attention thatday in the courtroom?Anthony slid his tongue back and forth along the sensitive underside ofTom’s rigid shaft before engulfing it in long, unhurried strokes. He wasdetermined to have the answers if he had to keep him there all day.The taste of Tom’s sweat churning in his mouth made it hard toconcentrate. Now and then Anthony would have to stop and savor it, allowingit to settle on the back of his tongue like a fine wine. He loved the wayit mingled with the sweet pre-cum that oozed from his beautiful cock withevery stroke.”I think it’s time,” Anthony declared as he sat up, stretched and slidtoward the end of the table. He sounded as if he’d just reached a verdict.Tom laid back and stared at the water stains on the frescoed ceiling whilecollecting his thoughts. They were down to the main event. Pretty soonthey’d both cum and maybe go their separate ways.”Keanu Reeves has pee stains on his tunic,” Tom observed.”What?””The guy in the mural… above the jury box. He looks like Keanu Reeves andhe’s got a big ‘ol pee stain on his crotch.”Anthony strained to see what Tom was talking about. “That’s Zeno ofCitium. He founded the Stoic school in… Hey! Are you bullshitting me?”Aside from making absolutely no sense whatsoever, Tom couldn’t say what hewas thinking at the time. The thing about Keanu Reeves essentially justpopped out: as did his reply to his understandably baffled question.”Maybe you should think about it first,” he said sounding as if he wastrying to talk him out of it.Anthony sidled around the table, his massive dick bouncing seductively,until he was standing at Tom’s side. He wrapped his big hand around hisfriend’s slightly deflated dick and gently stroked it back to fullerection.”Why would I want to do that?””Keep that up and it’ll be a moot point. Let me ask you something and Iwant you to tell me the truth: no bullshit. Is this going to be your firsttime taking it up the ass?”Hearing it in those terms made him wince, but Anthony resolutely stood hisground. He might back up but he clearly wasn’t going to back down.”I said I’ve done it with lots of guys. Why do you keep asking me that?””No,” Tom interrupted. “You said you’ve kissed a lot of guys and we bothknow what a load of horse shit that was: don’t we?””Okay. So I’m not as experienced in as many things as you are. That doesn’tmean that I’ve never done it, You got something against inexperience?”Tom saw it as a good sign that Anthony was grinning. It was especiallyencouraging given the fact that he was on the defense when he should havebeen on Tom’s dick.”God, I sincerely hope not. I’m just afraid that you might be getting intosomething more than you bargained for.”Anthony bent over, swiped his tongue across Tom’s engorged cock head andhelped him to a sitting position between his legs. He pulled him tightly tohis chest until their crotches were pressed tightly together.”I’m a cop, Tom,” he began with the same authoritative voice he’d used onthe witness stand. “I’ve been shot at, swung at, poked at with lethalobjects and threatened by a little old lady d**g pusher in a motorizedwheelchair. One guy even tried to run me down with his truck. If he hadn’tbeen so drunk that he lost control, we might not be having thisconversation. By now I’ve got a pretty good picture of life as it reallyis.”Tom planted a lingering kiss on Anthony’s left nipple and slid his handsdownward from his lats to his hips. He wondered why he was trying to makehim change his mind. Had he lost his or was he still haunted by that lastfirst time encounter that quickly went south once things started to feelless than pleasurable””It’ll probably hurt,” he said rubbing his cheek against the broad, smoothchest.”Don’t worry about that. I’d be surprised if it didn’t but I hear it’sworth it.””You bet your ass it is.””That’s right. I’m betting my ass on it.”Faced with such determination, what choice did he have but to agree? Ifworse came to shove, at least he was unarmed.”Okay,” Tom sighed. “Climb up here and get on your…””Uh-uh,” Anthony replied backing away and shaking his head. “By the witnessstand. See, I’ve got it all worked out in my head. We’ll start there andthen we’ll do it in the jury box. After that we can try it up in theJudge’s seat… though I don’t think we can sit down. Then we can…””You must have reinforcements waiting in the next room. How long do youthink I can do this?””I don’t know,” he replied. “An hour or so?””This really is a fantasy,” Tom laughed. “I’m already close no thanks toyou.”Officer Velasquez just grinned as he retrieved what Tom presumed to beprecautions from his Levis. Seeing the cop’s muscular naked butt in motionas he walked toward the front of the room renewed Tom’s determination.”I believe in you,” Anthony called out over his shoulder.Tom cast a wary glance at the solidly shut double doors and started acrossthe well relaxbet giriş to where Anthony waited patiently. “Screw it,” he thought. “If heisn’t worried, why should you care?” It was a point worth repeating as henegotiated the cavernous room.The old institutional linoleum tile, made brittle by the passage of time,crunched loudly beneath his feet as he closed the gap. He hesitated everycouple of steps, looking as if he was afraid the noise would attractattention of the wrong people.His concern wasn’t for himself but rather for Anthony. What if the guy atthe gate decided to come looking for him? What would happen if he walked inand found his friend with a dick up his ass?On the other hand, Anthony wasn’t a fool. If he was confident that, in abuilding designed to hold thousands, they were the only two people hewouldn’t argue the point. He reached Anthony’s side with a renewedconfidence and a determination to bury his cock as far up the policeman’sass as human physiology would allow.”Took ya long enough,” the cop whispered. His boots clumped loudly, liketwo cannon shots, as he spread his legs and planted his feet solidly on thefloor. He pressed the palms of his hands flat against the oiled walnutbench and took a deep breath. He was ready.Tom’s hard-on lurched at the glorious sight of Anthony’s butt, glisteningwith sweat. It was being offered freely. It was calling to him: begging himto come out and play. He stepped forward and placed his dripping tool inthe cleft between the cop’s round butt cheeks, afraid that any sudden movewould make him cum across Anthony’s broad, muscular back.Anthony moaned softly as he slipped a condom into his hand. “Put your cockin my ass,” he urged. “Do it now! Please… do it.”Tom carefully unrolled the rubber over his hypersensitive dick and waitedfor the urge to shoot his load to subside. He wrapped his arms aroundAnthony’s chest and with one hand toyed with his nipple. The other, havingdeveloped an agenda of its own, continued downward and wrapped itselfaround the hard, fleshy appendage jutting from between his legs.After what felt like an eternity to both men, Tom was ready. He placed thehead of his cock against the cop’s sphincter. It was warm to the touch andopened so that he could have seen the pink lining if he’d looked thatclose.”Okay.. here we go,” Tom whispered as the walls relaxed, then swallowed thefirst two inches of his prick. “Damn, Velasquez,” he declared. “I’m reallyinside of you”Anthony exhaled loudly and pushed back. “Don’t stop. Keep going. I’m fine.”Tom needed no convincing. He grasped Anthony’s narrow hips and forcedhimself the rest of the way in.The walls of Anthony’s butt hole tightened around the invader, holding himin a strong embrace. He bore down hard until Tom’s hairy nut sack restedagainst his. It felt so right, the moment as perfect as anything he couldhave hoped for or imagined.”God! You’re so hot… and tight,” Tom panted.Anthony grunted in response. He stared at the intricate designs in thewood, feeling Tom’s fleshy pole slide in and out and thinking of how muchlife was like a slab of wood. Hadn’t their lives been like a grain pattern:two ragged lines running parallel to each other until they met outside ofthe County Courthouse?As a cop, he had to be so careful and watch every word: check everyemotion. It had been that way on that morning when he was standing on thecorner waiting for the light to change.The sight of the tall blonde man in the dark, double breasted pin stripesuit took his breath away, yet there was no way that he could approachhim. The days when a cop in uniform could stop a citizen for no reasonother than to be friendly were long gone.Tom’s thick mushroom shaped cock head slid over Anthony’s prostate, coaxingout a long strand of pre-cum. It whipped back and forth like a glisteningrope and flew into the podium. “Hell,” Anthony thought to himself. “I’malready close.”He gritted his teeth and, in a concerted effort to forestall theinevitable, forced himself to think of something other than the hardreaming being administered to his butt. He thought of the day when heentered the courtroom and saw Tom in the jury box.He was no longer dressed like a lawyer, having abandoned the suit in favorof a blue shirt that complimented his eyes. Velasquez had been unable toresist taking a furtive glance as he crossed the well on his way to thewitness stand.As a cop, he had to be observant and notice little details, but this hadnothing to do with his being an officer of the law. It was physicalattraction, pure and simple.Tom rested his head on Anthony’s muscular back as he pounded away at hisabused ass. He kissed him between the shoulder blades, sending a chill downthe cop’s spine.”You doing okay?” he asked with genuine concern. “Want to rest for awhile?””No. I like feeling you inside of me.””Just say the word,” Tom replied, thrusting upward as he gripped Anthony’sshoulders.His concern validated Officer Velasquez’s first impression: that Tom wasunlike anyone he’d ever met. He was also a damned good sex partner.”Tom,” he said tightening his sphincter. “I’ve never…I mean, you’re thefirst.”Tom stopped pumping. “Really? I thought you had so much experience.””I lied… at least about that part. And… uh… also the kissing.”The cop sounded so contrite over having been less than truthful that Tomalmost laughed. He bit his lip to keep from breaking up and spoiling themood.”Why the sudden need to confess? You want me to pull out?””God no! Hell, I don’t want you to stop… ever.””I’ve got a confession too,” Tom replied with a soft laugh. “I ain’tSuperman and I can’t hold back forever. In fact, from the way that bigpinga of yours is leaking, I’d say that you aren’t far from it either.”Anthony looked down at the hand wrapped around his rock hard penis. Tom’sfinger and thumb were slick with pre-cum.”Kinda looks that way. Guess you’d better go for it.””Anything you say, officer.”Tom remanded the big, uncut dick back into Officer Velasquez’s custody andwithdrew enough to adjust the condom. Then, with a grunt, he rammed hiscock deep into the cop’s twitching hole. Anthony’s surprised yellreverberated throughout the room, through the heavy oak doors and down thehall.”Oh fucking shit!””You want it hard?””Yeah.””Tell me.”The cop was slow to comprehend what Tom was asking him to do. The assaulton his prostate, the slap of skin on skin and the smell of raw sex thatseemed all pervasive had lulled him into a state of blissful oblivion. Helooked back over his shoulder, his eyes glazed.”Huh? What?”Tom allowed his hands to roam lovingly over Anthony’s body as he consideredhis next move. A lot was riding not only on what he said, but also on whathe did and how well he did it. He sensed that while unlikely, it was notimpossible that Anthony could be put off of Gay sex by virtue of whattranspired that afternoon. If he learned anything from the trial, it wasthat people do unexpected things when events don’t happen exactly asplanned.There’d always be other new things to explore in the bedroom but gettingfucked for the first time was strictly a one shot deal for the handsomecop. Anthony could never again truthfully claim to have a virgin ass.Whack.”Tell me what you want,” he growled.The situation called for total control. He slapped the cop’s perfectupturned ass just hard enough to raise an angry red handprint that faded asquickly as it appeared.Whack.Anthony sensed that all of the sexual fantasies he’d ever had were about tocome true if he played it right. It was like getting three wishes, and thegenie in the bottle was a hot, sexy man… one that he trusted… who wasready to do anything he asked. If the genie wanted him to talk dirty,that’s what he’d do.Whack.”I want you to fuck the shit out of me,” he said deliberately choosing hiswords. “Fill my ass with your big cock… Stretch my virgin hole. Ohyeah… that’s what I want. Slap my ass. Plow my butt. Cram that fuck toolup there.”It felt good to say it and, having done so, Anthony felt as if a giantweight had been taken from his shoulders. Now that the door was open, thewords that he’d always hoped to say came rushing out. Getting fucked andloving it didn’t make him feel like any less of a man. He could be a realkick-ass cop and still enjoy taking it up the butt. The thought made hisdick jump and his heart race.Whack.”Tighten it for me,” Tom commanded.Whack.The slapping was something that Anthony didn’t care for: at least in thebeginning. He was about to mention it when another one connected and hisanus constricted and relaxed in response to the sharp sting. Hearing Tom’smoan of pleasure he decided that maybe he could get to like it.Whack.”Oh yeah. Slap my hot ass. Fuck it hard.”The cop’s obvious enthusiasm was as reassuring as it was exciting. Tom wasabout to comply when Officer Velasquez gently but firmly pushed himaway. Tom’s greasy cock emerged and disengaged with a soft “plup”.”What’s going on?” Tom asked. “Something wrong?”Anthony turned and drew him into a long, passionate kiss. “Not a thing,” hereplied once they came up for air.”Then what are you… Where are you going?”Anthony had already circled behind the bench and was climbing thestairs. “Come on up,” he said once he’d reached the top. “I’ve got thisempty hole that needs filling.”It took only a few seconds of watching Anthony’s uncut cock displacing hugevolumes of air as it waved over his head to understand. Tom watched awestruck as a strand of shimmering pre-cum trailed from its tip in the stillair. The slender thread lengthened and broke away, spiraling downward tothe floor.”Hold that thought,” Tom whispered hoarsely.Feeling as if every passing second was an eternity in exile from paradise,he raced to join his friend.Anthony turned and carefully stretched out across the gavel scarred desk,his fingers fondling and caressing his hairy nut sack. He spread his legsand fingered his greasy pink void that waited to be filled.The wait was slightly longer than he’d expected. The arresting sight ofAnthony’s long fingers sliding in and out of his moist hole, stretching andpreparing it for the hard fucking that was to come, rendered Tomimmobile. For several breathless moments, he stood beneath the ghostlyoutline of the scales of justice watching as the cop opened himself up.”Come on, you big fucking stud. Put that big cock in my virgin hole.”Tom glanced down at the erection jutting out from between his legs. Henoted the small amount of clear fluid that had seeped from the rubber’sreservoir tip, covering the head before becoming trapped by the tight latexsleeve. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so hard and so reluctantat the same time. He didn’t want it to end.”Please do it Tom,” he moaned as he slipped another finger inside andgently stroked the inner lining.This brought Tom to his senses. He stepped forward, hoping that enough luberemained inside Anthony’s hole to make the insertion an easy one. A boardcreaked beneath his feet as he closed the gap and positioned his prong atthe entrance. He took a breath and pushed.Both men gasped as the walls parted and his cock disappeared, riding on atrail of heat liquefied slime and goo. “Oh fucking shit!” Anthony cried outas it collided with his prostate. “That feels so good!”Tom wanted to respond but couldn’t. Looking deeply into Anthony’slust-filled eyes had turned his thought processes to gibberish. He gruntedas he gradually picked up the pace.For Anthony, the world had become a kaleidoscope of sounds andsensations. There was the desk, hard and unyielding beneath his poundingfists. There was the sound of his own voice as he urged Tom on with wordshe never thought he’d say.Outside and nine floors below, the world was going about its business. Theroar of traffic from the nearby freeway gave way to his own heavybreathing. With a single turn, the wail of sirens racing down Temple Streetfaded away as the gentle slap of Tom’s nuts against his butt took centerstage. For however long it took, it was all about them.”Lo pegaron adentro allí,” he yelled. “Ram it in me. Make me your fuckpig. Harder! Harder! I’m so close, man. Let me cum with your dick inside myass. Just this once, okay?”Tom nodded his concurrence. He’d wanted to cum with him, but what elsecould he do?Sweat poured from his body, drenching both of them. He was consideringlicking it off when Anthony’s prick suddenly erupted in a hands-free surgethat sent spunk flying everywhere. Most of it landed in places that thecleaning crew would be hard pressed to reach if the building was returnedto service.”Son of a fucking bitch! I’m not even touching it!” Anthony screamed. “Fuckthe cum out of me! My ass is yours, Papi. Use it!”Tom dutifully fucked like a man with a mission. Fortunately, his mind hadcleared in time to afford him a memorable view as each powerful thrustsummoned up new reserves of jizz. He’d never seen so much coming out of oneman.”Damn, Velasquez,” he croaked as a ribbon of semen landed across the bridgeof the cop’s nose with a wet splat.A blanket of creamy white spunk covered Anthony’s chest, abdomen and crotchby the time his prick stopped erupting. He lay back, breathless and drainedas Tom slowed to a stop. He looked deeply into Tom’s eyes and winked.”That was fucking awesome,” he whispered. “Thanks for indulging me. I thinkyou really are the Man of Steel.”Whether his stamina came from a lifetime of (mostly) healthy living or hissporadic study of tantric sex, Tom was still as hard as he’d been at thestart. He smiled wanly as he slowly backed out, afraid that any sudden movewould set off a potentially unsafe chain reaction within the sensitivewalls of Anthony’s ass. He was very, very close.Anthony slid from the desk and, sensing his friend’s predicament, led Tomto the wall. The paneling was scarred and dented by seventy years ofbailiff’s key rings and carelessly moved judge’s chairs, but it was coolagainst his warm backside as he leaned against the dark wood.The cop, dripping with cum and sweat drew the tall blonde man withbrilliant blue eyes in his arms while turning him around. He wedged hissemi erect cock between Tom’s butt cheeks and pulled him tightly againsthis chest.”Got any preferences?” Officer Velasquez whispered. His left hand restedbriefly on Tom’s long, flat stomach before moving upward.Between the warm rush of Anthony’s breath on the back of his neck and thefat, uncut cock dry humping his butt crack, any suggestions that Tom mighthave offered were reduced to disjointed, inarticulate mumbling.”No… I don’t… Uh… I mean I… Huh?””I asked how you wanted to cum.”Tom’s knees threatened to go out from under his as a shiver raced up anddown his spine. Unable to do anything else, he sagged into the cop’s strongarms.”Hell, I don’t care. Surprise me.”Tom looked down and sighed contentedly as Anthony wrapped his big fistaround his hard, greasy dick and began stroking it. It felt better than hecould ever have imagined in a lifetime of dreams and fantasies.”Gonna jack you off,” Anthony whispered. “Gonna make you shoot your loadall over the fucking courtroom.””Do it,” Tom replied urgently.”You like having a cop make you cum?””Fuck yes!” Tom gasped.”Gonna make you cum now,” Anthony rasped as the strokes grew inurgency. “Tonight I’ll make you cum with my big cock up your tightass… Gonna fuck that hot man’s butt. You want that? You want me to fuckyour ass?”Given the intensity of the moment, Tom would have agreed to just aboutanything the sexy cop had to offer. He’d never had anything that big upthere and a long time since he’d trusted anyone enough to even getclose. It might take some serious effort to accomplish, but he had only tolook at that muscular tattooed arm flogging away between his spread legs toknow how much he wanted it.”Yes. I want you to fuck my ass, Velasquez. I want to feel you movinginside of me.”Anthony tightened his grip. “Tonight I’m gonna fuck my man’s tightass. Gonna do it, man. I’m gonna fuck him… make his ass mine. Usted nuncadeseará cualquier persona pero me.”Tom liked the sound of that: of being “his man”. He liked the thought ofVelasquez taking ownership of his ass and offering his own in return. Itmade his nuts draw up in their sack as they prepared to unload intoAnthony’s hand. He was ready to cum, and the man of his dreams was going tomake it transpire.It happened suddenly, just as it had with Velasquez.”Oh fucking hell!” Tom screamed as semen rushed from the tip of hiscock. It quickly covered Anthony’s hand with a milky white glove thatdripped on to the scuffed wood floor.”That’s it,” Anthony whispered urgently as his friend twisted and strainedin the crook of his arm. “Give your man what he wants. Give me your hotload. Go with it and let me do the work”His words were like a warm breeze in Tom’s ear: a breeze that flowed downthe back of his neck and over his shoulders. Tom nodded and gripped thesinewy forearm pressed tightly against his rib cage. It was nice havingsomeone else in control. It felt good to know that the hand that was sodeftly jerking him off belonged to someone like Anthony.It was long after his breathing had returned to normal and the hand wrappedaround his cock had milked out the last drops of cum, that Tom could eventhink of moving. He felt safe and secure. For all that he cared his buttcould stay pressed against Anthony’s cock for the rest of the afternoon.Somewhere in the vast labyrinth of hallways, the metallic echo of anelevator rising on dusty cables brought the two men back to reality.”Uh oh,” Tom muttered softly. “We’re not alone.””It’s probably the cleaning crew. They won’t be coming up here.”Tom winced as his foot slid on a puddle of cum. “Speaking of coming, shouldwe be cleaning up after ourselves just in case?”Officer Velasquez glanced at the floor. “I guess so. You go and get dressedwhile I grab a rag and wipe this up.”Tom reluctantly broke the seal and started down the steps, carefullyavoiding the tiny pools of semen that dotted the platform. He came to thethird step and turned around. Velasquez was still leaning against the walland staring at the mess they’d made.He returned and pressed his crotch against the sexy Latino cop’s slowlydeflating dick.”Thank you. That was amazing…””It was my pleasure.””About me taking it up the ass…””Don’t sweat it,” Velasquez replied shaking his head. “People say a lot ofthings that they don’t mean when they’re about to cum.””You’re not trying to back out of it, are you?””Hell no. But I thought…”Tom guided the cop’s hands to his butt. “You thought wrong. I don’t haveanything against doing it in exotic places, but I’m also a realist. Itain’t gonna be easy taking that big nightstick of yours up the ass. Call mecrazy, but I want to have a real bed, a full bottle of poppers and a gallonof Elbow Grease at hand before I try.””Poppers? Aren’t they i*****l?” Velasquez asked sternly, sounding every bitlike the cop that he was.”So’s fucking in a public building.””Only if there’s someone around to see,” Velasquez replied with amischievous grin. He pulled him closer, gently squeezing Tom’s firm buttand thinking of how great it was going to feel.Later, after he was dressed and was waiting for Velasquez to finish wipingthe cum from city property, Tom stood at one of the floor to ceilingwindows overlooking the Criminal Courts Building. Off to the right, hecould see the now quiet intersection where he first spotted OfficerVelasquez. Tom smiled broadly when he thought of all the additions he’d bemaking to Velasquez’s file by the time the long Fourth of July weekend wasover.EPILOGThings don’t always go as we sometimes hope they will. The Fourth of Julyweekend went without a hitch, as did the three months that followed.Anthony turned out to be as sexually creative in the bedroom as he was onthe ninth floor of the Hall Of Justice.Toward the end of October, however, Tom started having second thoughtsabout the future of their relationship. It had come about so quickly andintensely that he hadn’t the chance to question whether or not he was cutout to be the “spouse” of a Cop.He needed what he referred to as “viewing room”. If the attraction was partof the fantasy, maybe it would be better to cut their losses than to runthe risk of a more painful breakup later on. Though devastated, Anthonyagreed to pull back and, for seven and a half weeks, was as miserable asTom.They reconciled just in time for Christmas when Tom decided that life holdsno promises. He could no longer imagine a life without Anthony.As a reminder of just how tentative life can be, Anthony was shot whileresponding to a robbery in progress. Tom spent Christmas Eve in thehospital waiting room. While not a religious man, he did a lot of prayingto Saint Michael, the patron saint of policemen, that night.Anthony will always insist that his rapid recovery was due in no small partto Tom’s unwavering love and support. Tom disagrees, preferring to givecredit where credit is due: to Anthony’s voracious appetite for life andhis stubborn refusal to let the bad guys win.Their’s is a love story that began with a file entry on a busy street andcontinues as a work in progress. It will no doubt continue to evolve andgrow in spite of the setbacks.END (ENTER)SAVE?YES (ENTER)PLEASE WAITDONE

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