Fair Game

I'd passed the cop about a mile back. He'd been standing there, arms folded, next to his police regulation Harley in a pull-in at the side of Route 10. Now he'd reappeared in my rear view mirror, getting closer by the second. Every now and then, the sunlight caught on his dark glasses and dazzled me. He followed for a couple of miles while I kept an eye on the speedo. Then he came up alongside and made a circling motion with his hand.

Shit! What was his game?

I pulled over to the breakdown lane and watched him in the mirror as he followed in behind me, stopping about ten metres away. I saw him dismount, take off his gloves and walk slowly toward my car.

He leaned down to look through the window and again made a circular motion, smaller this time, with his index finger. I ran the window down and he looked in. His helmet bore the emblem - California Highway Patrol. The patrolman adjusted his glasses, but didn't remove them. His steady chewing revealed glimpses of even, white teeth.

"Good afternoon, sir. You havin' a nice day?"

"I am, officer. But I get the feeling you're about to change all that." He didn't answer, but I knew he was giving me the once over behind those shades. I could feel it, feel him playing with me, keeping me guessing.

"You know what speed you were doing back there, coupla miles, sir?"

I reply that I didn't, although I was pretty sure I had been driving well within the speed limit. And I'm damn certain he didn't know for sure. He was only guessing, because when I passed him he had not been holding a speed gun.

"You know the law of this State, sir?" I didn't answer. He continued. "When I clocked you back there, you were doing fifty-five. Did you realise you were in a fifty zone?" His dark glasses stared at me, got me fidgety. From what I could see of his face, he was nicely tanned, good looking, mid to late twenties.

"I'm sorry, officer, but I feel sure you're mistaken."

For the first time he actually smiled, showing those perfect teeth. It was a smug grin.

"You saying an officer of the law's not competent enough to judge the speed of a passing automobile, sir? Is that what you're saying, sir?"

"How the hell could you know? You didn't clock me back there."

"You think a court of law would believe your word over an officer, that what you're saying here, sir?"

"No, of course not. I..."

"Sir, can I see your driver's license?" I complied and handed it to him. He casually flipped through it. "Sir, can I ask you to step out of the car, please?"

I got out of the car. He was a couple of inches shorter than me, but he held himself well, had good physique. Suddenly he pushed me back against the car.

"Hey, what is this?"

"Just put your hands on your head, sir... and keep your legs apart."

Then he frisked me, but I never carry a gun and though he should've discovered that fact within seconds he continued to feel my body.

"Are you playing some kind of game with me here, officer?" I ask.

"Would you like me to, sir?" His face was right in mine now. I could smell spearmint on his breath.

I felt him bring his thigh up between my legs, forcing it into my groin.

"I said, would you like me to?" He ground his thigh against my cock, got me hard. The cop grinned in that knowing, smug way of his and dropped his hand to my crotch. I gasped as he squeezed my balls.

"Play what," I croaked.

He eased his grip on my balls and started stroking the erection in my pants.

"Anything you like," he said. Then he squeezed my balls again and said: "How fast were you going back there, sir?"

"Fifty-five miles per hour, officer."

"Correct. What do you think I should do?"

"Write me a ticket, officer."

He gripped harder, forcing a sharp intake of breath into my lungs. "Is that what you want me to do, sir?"

"Yes, officer."

He finally let go, wrote the ticket and told me to get back in the car.

"Standard charge, sir," he said, handing me the slip. "You don't have to pay it right here and now. You have 14 days, from which time interest will be added on a daily basis." The patrolman tucked the ticket pad into his breast pocket. "It's been nice meeting you, sir. Just be mindful of the law next time." I felt him looking at me again,

behind those mysterious glasses. "Have a nice day now," he added.

He went back and remounted the Harley. I could see him in the side mirror, settling into the saddle, arranging his clothing. He started the engine, gunned it a couple of times and let it tick over. I felt sore about the fine, the unfairness of it. The way he'd got me to admit to it even though I wasn't guilty. The way he'd made me lick ass. Funny thing, I was still hard from the frisking.

At that point I had expected him to ride off into the sunset and I'd be shot of him. I could just drive away in my own time. But he didn't. I couldn't be sure, but it looked to me like he was stroking himself, something in his hand. He just sat there doing it while the Harley purred beneath him. I knew he was looking at my reflection in the side mirror. He pulled on his leather gloves, real slow and pointed. He motioned with his finger to come over. My heart beat in my ears. I wanted to resist, but the cop, while having really bugged me about the ticket, was very good looking. He was a hot guy all right. And I wanted him.

I got out the car and walked toward him. When I got there he was sitting nonchalantly, with his gloved hands flat on his thighs. His pants were open at the fly and his cock looked like an ivory tower. What a beauty. I stopped about six feet from him and just stared in awe. My breath came in quick gasps. I could see his considerable erection pulsing. The sight of it made my guts melt -- I mean, it was just beautiful, man. There was an arrogance about him, an insolence in his jutting pose that drew me to him, making my own hardness constricting and painful. His cock looked nice and greasy. Just how I liked it.

"If you want, you can pay for the ticket right now, sir," he says. "That is... if you've a mind to."

He stroked slowly along the length of his cock, wrapping the glove's leather around it. Then he offered his hand to me. We were on the same frequency all along. I knew it. He knew I knew it. I took three paces forward so that I was right alongside him. I took the gloved hand and brought it to my nose. I could smell his cock on the leather.

He said: "It was just a hunch, but I was right about you, sir, wasn't I?" I nodded and licked the palm of the glove, all around and between the fingers, tasting him. The Harley throbbed beneath him and I could feel the wafts of warm air coming from its purring engine. I took his cock into my mouth, hot and salty, nice prime meat - the best. He gently pushed down on my head, forcing more of himself into me. I heard a car approaching and hesitated for a moment.

He said: "It's okay, we're safe. Nobody's gonna stop for a cop," And he was right. The car slowed right down as it passed, but then speeded up again. I wondered fleetingly if anyone in the car had seen what we're up to. And then I was right back on him again, this time taking him all the way down.

And very soon he was blowing his load into me, hips twitching while the leathered fingers twisted strands of my hair. He tasted so damned good that I cleaned him right off. I'd hoped he could reciprocate, but he looked beat. When he finally got himself together again, he said:

"Jesus, sir, I just got to tell you that was really something... well, anyhow - consider the fine paid. I wasn't going to submit that ticket anyhow."

A call came through on the radio. He had to be somewhere fast. I felt kind of let down that he wasn't able to return the compliment.

He pulled up the zipper of his pants, eased the Harley off its stand and blipped the throttle. "Thank you, sir," he said. "Maybe next time I can... well, you know..."

He turned the Harley around, stopped for a moment and looked at me, adjusting his shades.

"Have a really nice day. I mean it. And remember me to your folks." He opened the throttle wide and the ground reverberated under my feet. And without looking back, he was gone.

THE END