This tale is purely fiction; any allusion to real people, alive or dead, is purely happenstance. I have not had time to finish anything lately. I finally finished something. This story contains some coerced bi-sexual activity, including male to male oral sex. I hope you enjoy it.
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It was a quarter to three am on Saturday morning when there was a loud, sharp bang on my apartment front door. The superintendent had not yet fixed our doorbell. The noise awakened me from an erotic dream. I had an erection due to this lewd dream I was enjoying immensely. I got up and groggily stumbled down the hall from my bedroom in just my thin Mario brothers print pajama pants and opened the door. There was a wet spot from my leaking cock on my childish pajama bottoms. It was late October, and there was a slight chill in the air. A blonde female police officer was there with my roommate in handcuffs, in her uniform, his hands secured behind his back. His blue jeans fly was halfway down. The officer looked sexy in her police blues. She was a tall and muscular Amazon-like woman, yet powerfully feminine. Her black nametag read Stevens in white engraved letters.
"What is going on, officer?" I asked. She looked down at my cock, tenting my silly pajamas, and licked her lips.
"Does this 'perpetrator' live here?" she asked. I noticed someone ripped my roommate's clothes.
"Yes, he is my roommate, John," I said
"He tried to drive while drunk away from the strip club, and I decided to bring him home rather than arrest him," Officer Steven's explained. John looked like he was about to pass out.
"Thanks, he is not a bad guy; he just seems trashed," I said.
"He is quite drunk, but that is no excuse for driving under the influence," Officer Stevens said.
"What do you need from me?" I asked. I noticed her uniform was really tight over her large breasts. Her nipples were standing proud through her bra and her blue uniform blouse.
"I was going to let him go if he was willing to co-operate, but he is too smashed," She said.
"Co-operate how?" I asked. She looked down at my erection again.
"I will let you tuck him in for the night if you come down to the station and fill out some forms. He damaged a pole in the club's lot," she said.
"Why can't you put him in the holding cell, and he can fill out the forms for you when he sobers up?" I asked.
"Just do as I order you," she said as she drags John into our apartment.
She places him face down on the floor, and he is out. John was not quite five foot ten and athletic with brown curly, usually unkempt, just slightly messy hair. John was a charmer, like his father. His father owned a large appliance store chain. John's charm often was as much a liability as an asset.
John had a bad drinking problem, and I was worried he would flunk his senior year. He had started drinking with the rest of us, just socially playing quarters and beer pong. It was all mild enough for all of us as freshmen, but now John was out of control. John's father put a lot of pressure on John. His father was pushing John to the future he wanted for his son. John was not happy with his father's choice for him. John had no passion for the appliance business. I figured his binge drinking might be a way to rebel against his father's plan.
John's dad had scored us this great apartment from a friend of his, Nigel, and the rent was cheap enough for us to get out of the dorms. We had lived here our junior year and this year as well. Finals were coming up, and John did way more drinking than studying. He was a business major, and the courses were getting progressively more difficult as John reached his last year. She takes the handcuffs off John.
"You might as well leave him there. He is dead to the world anyway." I said. The tall female officer scowled at me. She was taller than me.
"What is your name?" Officer Stevens asked.
"Eugene," I said.
I hated my name.
"No, Eugene, you will help me tuck him in," she said as she pulled him to his feet. She put his arm over her shoulder. I put his other arm over my shoulder. We dragged him to his room, spinning him on an angle to pass through the narrow hall, and we let him fall onto his bed. John was a lady's man and went out with a lot of women. He usually only used them for sex and never called them after that.
"Now undress him and tuck him in," she ordered.
I undid his belt and pulled his pants off; John's tiny prick was hard; it barely made a lump in his boxers. I pulled his ripped t-shirt over his head and tried to put him under the covers.
"Not so fast, take off his shorts," she ordered.
I pulled down his shorts and exposed his four-inch penis. The harsh officer laughed at John's lack of endowment.
"That explains why he has the Camaro," She said as she laughed cruelly.
John's butthole gaped opened as if something massive had violated him.
"I want to see if that little toy pistol can even shoot, jack him off for me," she said.
"No, I will not," I said. That was a huge mistake.
"I wanted to play with him some more, but he passed out. So you will do as his replacement," the forceful woman ordered.
"No," I said. Officer Stevens grabbed me and pinned my arm in the standard police hold, slamming me over the bottom of John's bed on my face. She cuffed my hands behind my back.
"Now, you will have to use your mouth," she said.
I am not gay, so she must be joking,
I thought.